CHAPTER I
The Sierra Nevadas of California are very wide and very high. Kingdomscould be lost among the defiles of their ranges. Kingdoms have beenfound there. One of them was Bright's Cove.
It happened back in the seventies. Old Man Bright was prospecting. Hehad come up from the foothills accompanied by a new but stolid Indianwife. After he had grubbed around a while on old Italian bar and hadsucceeded in washing out a little colour, she woke up and took a slightinterest in the proceedings.
"You like catch dat?" she grunted, contemptuously. "Heap much overdere!"
She waved an arm. Old Man Bright girded his loins and packed hisjackass. After incredible scramblings the two succeeded in surmountingthe ranges and in dropping sheer to the mile-wide round valley throughwhich flowed the river--the broad, swift mountain river, with thesnow-white rapids and the swirling translucent green of very thickgrass. They were very glad to reach the grass at the bottom, but alittle doubtful on how to get out. The big mountains took root at thevery edge of the tiny round valley; the river flowed out of a gorge atone end and into a gorge at the other.
"Guess the sun don't rise here 'til next morning," commented Old ManBright. The squaw was too busy even to grunt.
In six years Old Man Bright was worth six million dollars, all takenfrom the ledges of Bright's Cove. Of this amount he had been forced tolet go of a small proportion for mill machinery and labour. He had alsoinvested twenty-five thousand dollars in a road. It was a steep road,and a picturesque. It wound in and out and around, by loops, lacets, andhairpins, dropping down the face of the mountain in unheard-of gradesand turns. Nothing was ever hauled up it, save yellow bars ofbullion--so that did not matter. Down it, with a shriek of brakes, acloud of dust, a clank of harness and a rumble of oaths, came diversmatters, such as machinery, glassware, whiskey, mirrors, ammunition, andpianos. From any one of a dozen bold points on this road one could seefar down and far up its entire white, thread-like length. The tinycrawling teams each with its puff of dust crawling with it; the greattumbled peaks of the Sierras; the river so far below as to resemble alittle stream, the round Cove with its toy houses and its distantant-like industry--all these were plainly to be seized by a glance ofwhatever eye cared to look.
As time went on a great many teams and pack trains and saddle animalsclimbed up and down that road. Bright's Cove became quite a town. OldMan Bright made six millions; other men aggregated nearly four millionsmore; still others acquired deep holes and a deficit. It might beremarked in passing that the squaw acquired experience, a calico dressor so, and a final honourable discharge. Being an Indian she quitecheerfully went back to pounding acorns in a _metate_.
In the fifth year of prosperity there drifted into camp two men,possessed of innocence, three mules, and a thousand dollars. Theyretained the mules; and, it is to be presumed, at least a portion of theinnocence.
The thousand dollars went to the purchase of the Lost Dog from BarneyFallan. The Lost Dog consisted quite simply of a hole in the groundguarded by an excellent five stamp-mill. The latter's existence couldonly be explained by the incurable optimism of Barney Fallan--certainlynot by the contents of the hole in the ground. To the older men of thecamp it seemed a shame, for the newcomers were nice, fresh-cheeked,clear-eyed lads to whom everything was new and strange and wonderful,their enthusiasm was contagious, and their cheerful command ofvernacular exceedingly heart-warming. California John, then a man in hisforties, tried to head off the deal.
"Look here, son," said he to Gaynes. "Don't do it. There's nothin' init. Take my word."
"But Fallan's got a good stamp-mill all ready for business, and theledge----"
"Son," said California John, "every once in a while the Lord gets toexperimentin' makin' brains for a new species of jackass, and when heruns out of donkeys to put 'em in----"
"Meaning me?" demanded Gaynes, his fair skin turning a deep red.
"Not at all. Meanin' Barney Fallan."
Nevertheless the Babes, as the Gaynes brothers were speedily nicknamed,paid over their good thousand for Barney's worthless prospect with theimposing but ridiculous stamp-mill. There they set cheerfully to work.After a week's desperate and clanking experiment they got the machineryunder way and began to run rock through the crushers.
"It ain't even ore!" expostulated California John. "Why, son, it's onlycountry rock. Go down on your shaft until you strike a pan test, anyway!You're wasting time and fuel and--Oh, hell!" he broke off hopelessly atthe sight of the two cherubic faces upturned respectful but unconvinced.
"But you never can tell where you will find gold," broke in Jimmy,eagerly. "That's been proved over and over again. I heard one fellow sayonce that they thought they'd never find gold in hornblende. But theydid."
California John stumped home in indignant disgust.
"Damn little ijits!" he exploded. "Pigheaded! Stubborn as a pair ofmules!" The recollection of the scrubbed red cheeks, the clear,puppy-dog, frank brown eyes, the close-curling brown hair, forced hislips to a wry grin. "Just like I was at that age," he admitted. Hesighed. "Well, they'll drop their little pile, of course. The only rayof hope's the experience that old Bible fellow had with them turkeybuzzards--or was it ravens?"
The Babes pecked away for about a month, full of tribulation andquestions. They seemed to depend almost equally on optimism and chance,in both of which they had supreme faith. A huge horseshoe was tackedover the door of the stamp-mill. Jimmy Gaynes always spat over his rightshoulder before doing a day's work. They never walked under the shortladders leading to the hoppers. Neither would they permit visitors totheir shafts. To California John and his friend Tibbetts they interposedscandalized objections.
"It's bad luck to let another man in your shaft!" cried George. "I'm nohigh-brow on this mining proposition, but I know enough for that."
"Bad as playing opposite a cross-eyed man," said Jimmy.
"Or holding Jacks full on Eights," supplemented George, conclusively.
"You're about as wise as a treeful of owls," said California John,sarcastically. "But, Lord love you, I ain't cherishin' any very burnin'ambition to crawl down your snake hole."
The Babes used up their provisions; they went about as far as they couldon credit; they harrowed the feelings of the community--and then, in avery mild way, they struck it. Together they drifted down the singlestreet of the camp, arm in arm, an elaborate nonchalance steadying theirsteps. Near the horse trough they paused.
"Gold," said Jimmy, oracularly, to George, "is where you find it."
"Likewise horse sense," quoth George.
Whereupon they whooped wildly and descended on the astonished group. Toit they exhibited yellow dust to the value of an hundred dollars. "Andmore where that came from," said they.
"What kind of rock did you find it in?" demanded Tibbetts, after he hadrecovered his breath from the youngsters' enthusiastic man-handling.
"Oh, a kind of red, pasty-looking rock," said they.
"Show us," demanded the miners.
"What?" cried Jimmy, astounded, "and give Old Man Luck the backhand slapjust when he's decided to buy a corner lot in the Gaynes Addition? Noton your saccharine existence!"
"But we'll show you some more of this to-morrow Q.M.," said George.
They bought drinks all round, and paid their various bills, and departedagain feverishly to the Lost Dog whence rose smoke and clankings. Andnext day, sure enough, they left their work just long enough to exhibitanother respectable little clean-up of fifty dollars or so.
"And we're just getting into it!" said George, triumphantly.
California John and all the rest of his good friends rejoicedexceedingly and genuinely. They liked the Babes. The little strike ofthe Lost Dog quite overshadowed in importance the fact that old manBright's "Clarice" had run into a fabulously rich pocket.
The end of the month drew near. The Lost Dog had produced nearly eighthundred dollars. The Babes waxed important and talked largely of theirmoneyed interests.
"I thin
k," said Jimmy, importantly, "that we will decide to keep threehundred dollars to boost the game; and nail down the rest where mothswon't corrupt. Where do you fellows salt your surplus, anyway?"
"There's an express goes out pretty soon," someone explained, "with theclean-up of the Clarice. We send our dust out with that; and I reckonyou can fix it with Bright."
They saw Bright, but ran up against an unexpected difficulty. Old ManBright received them with considerable surliness. He considered himselfas the originator, discoverer, inventor, and almost the proprietor ofBright's Cove and all it contained. Therefore, when he first heard ofthe new strike, he walked up to the Lost Dog to see what it looked like.The Babes, panic stricken at the intended affront to "Old Man Luck,"headed him off. Bright had not the least belief in the reason given. Hesurveyed them with disfavour.
"I can't take your package," he told them. "Send it out yourself."
"And that old skunk has cleaned up a hundred thousand this month!"complained Jimmy, pathetically, to the group around the horse trough."And he won't even take a pore little five hundred package of dust outto some suffering bank! I suppose I'll have to cache it in a tomato canfor Johnson's old billy goat to chew up."
"Bring it over and I'll shove it in with mine," suggested CaliforniaJohn.
So it was done. The express, carrying nearly four hundred pounds of golddust, set forth over the steep road. In two hours the driver andmessenger sailed in, bung-eyed with excitement. They had been held up bya single road agent.
"He come out right on that point of rocks where you can see the wholevalley," said the driver in answer to many questions, "right where theheavy grade is and the thick chaparral. We was busy climbing; and he hadus before we could wink. Made us drop off the dust and 'bout face. Hewas a big, tall feller; and had a sawed-off Winchester. Once, when westopped, he dropped a bullet right behind us. He must have watched usall the way to camp."
The camp turned out. As the men passed the Lost Dog someone yelled tothe Babes. George, covered with mud, came to the door of the mill.
"Gee!" said he. "Lucky we saved out that three hundred. I'm powerfulsorry for that suffering bank. I'll join you as soon as I can get Jimmyup out of the shaft." Before the party had gone a mile they were joinedby the brothers boyishly eager over this new excitement.
The men toiled up the road to where the robbery had taken place. Plainlyto be seen were the marks of the man's boots. The tracks of a singlehorse, walking, followed the man.
"He packed off the dust, and he had an almighty big horse to carry it,"pronounced someone.
They followed the trail. It led a half mile to a broad sheet of rock.There it disappeared. On one side the bank rose twenty or thirty feet.On the other it fell away nearly a hundred. On the other side of thesheet of rock stretched the dusty road unbroken by anything more recentthan the wheel-tracks of the day before. It was as though man and horsehad taken unto themselves wings.
Immediately Bright took active charge of the posse.
"Stand here, on this rock," he commanded. "This road's been tracked uptoo much already. You, John, and Tibbetts and Simmins, there, come 'longwith me to see what you can make out."
The old mountaineers retraced their steps, examining carefully everyinch of the ground. They returned vastly puzzled.
"No sabe," California John summed up their investigations. "There's theman's track leadin' his hoss. The hoss had on new shoes, and the robberdid his own shoeing. So we ain't got any blacksmiths to help us."
"How do you know he shod the horse himself?" asked Jimmy Gaynes.
"Shoes just alike on front and back feet. Shows he must just have tackedon ready-made shoes. A blacksmith shapes 'em different. Those tracksleads right up to this rock: and here they quit. If you can figger how ahorse, a man, and nigh four hundredweight of gold dust got off thisrock, I'll be obleeged."
The men looked up at the perpendicular cliff to their right; over thesheer precipice at their left; and upon the untracked deep, white dustahead.
"Furthermore," California John went on, impressively, after a moment,"where did that man and that hoss come from in the beginning? Not fromup this way. They's no fresh tracks comin' down the road no more thanthey's fresh tracks goin' up. Not from camp. They's no trackswhatsomever on the road below, except our'n and the stage outfit's."
"Are you sure of that?" asked Jimmy, his eyes shining with interest.
"Sartin sure," replied California John, positively. "We didn't take nochances on that."
"Then he must have come into the road from up the mountain or down themountain."
"Where?" demanded California John. "A man afoot might scramble down inone or two places; but not a hoss. They ain't no tracks either side themuss-up where the express was stopped. And at that p'int the mountain isstraight up and down, like it is here."
They talked it over, and argued it, and reexamined the evidence, butwithout avail. The stubborn facts remained: Between the hold-up and thesheet of rock was one set of tracks going one way; elsewhere, nothing.