Gold

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE CAMP ON THE PORCUPINE

  We should all have liked to start right in digging, but Bagsbystrenuously opposed this.

  "You-all have a rich diggings yere," said he; "and you want to stay awhile and git the most there is out of them. And if you're going to dothat, you've got to get a good ready. You've got make a decent camp, anda stockade for the hosses at night; and if you want yore grub to lastyou more than a month there's got to be some reg'lar hunting and fishingdone."

  "That'll take a week!" cried Johnny impatiently.

  "Or more," agreed Bagsby with entire complacence. "You can bull at itand go to t'aring up the scenery if you want to; but you won't lastlong."

  Unpalatable as this advice seemed, with all the loose gold lying about,we ended by adopting it. Indeed, we added slightly to our self-imposedtasks by determining on the construction of cradles. Yank had figuredout a scheme having to do with hollowed logs and canvas with cleats thatwould obviate the need of lumber. We deputed Johnny to help him. Bagsbyand Vasquez were to hunt and fish for the general benefit, while therest of us put up a stockade, or corral, and erected a cabin.

  I must confess the labour was pleasant. We had plenty of axes, and fourof us were skilled in their use. Personally I like nothing better thanthe exercise of swinging a keen blade, the feeling of skillful accuracyand of nicely adjusted effort. We felled dozens, hundreds, of tall youngpines eight inches to a foot in diameter, and planted them upright in atrench to form a stockade. Then we ran up a rough sort of cabin of tworooms. Yank, somewhat hampered by Johnny, finished his cradles, andturned in to help us. Bagsby and Vasquez brought in several deer and anelk, and trapped many quail and hares. We fared royally, workedhealthfully in the shade of our trees, and enjoyed huge smokes andpowwows around our fire of an evening. Every night we drove the horseswithin the enclosure; and slept heavily.

  Always in the background of consciousness lay the gold, the incrediblyabundant gold. It coloured our dreams, it gilded our labour. As we drewto the end of our construction work, I really believe we experienced aslight, a very slight, feeling of regret that this fine flavour ofanticipation was so nearly at an end. However, I noticed that though wecompleted the house at three of the afternoon, we none of us showed anydisposition to wait for the morrow. We promptly lugged one of Yank's logcradles to the border of the stream and put in two hours washing.

  The results were most encouraging, for we gained in that short timenearly two ounces of flake gold.

  That evening we reviewed our situation carefully. The older heads of theparty--Yank, Bagsby, Don Gaspar, and Missouri Jones--overruled our youngdesire to jump into things headlong.

  "If this camp is going to get on right," said Yank, "we got to make someprovision for working right. Somebody's got to be in camp all the time,that's sure--to cook some decent meals, do the odd chores, and keep aneye on the stock." Bagsby nodded emphatically at this. "And somebody'sgot to rustle game and fish. Yere's nine husky men to eat. If we leaveone man in camp and two to hunt, we have six left for gold washing.That's three to a cradle, and that's just right."

  We came to that, too; and so settled into our routine. Bagsby was theonly permanent office-holder among us. He was unanimously elected theofficial hunter. The rest of us agreed to take turn about at the otherjobs. It was further agreed to increase our chances by utilizing thecradles at two totally different kinds of diggings. One we located onthe bar to wash out the shingle. The other we carried to a pointopposite the dry ravine in which I had found my three little nuggets.

  Don Gaspar had worked like a nailer at the construction although he wasutterly unskilled. Now at the end of the week he was worn out, althoughhe stoutly maintained he was as good as ever. This high-bred, energeticgentleman we had all come to admire, both for his unfailing courtesy andhis uncomplaining acceptance of hardships to which evidently he hadnever been accustomed. Exactly why he underwent the terrible exertionsincidental to gold finding I have never quite fathomed. I do not believehe needed money; and I never saw one of his race fond of hard physicalwork. Indeed, he was the only member of his class I ever met who wouldwork. The truth of the matter probably lies somewhere between anoutcropping of the old adventurous _conquistadore_ spirit and thefascination of the golden metal itself, quite apart from itsdollars-and-cents value. Unanimously we voted in Don Gaspar as campkeeper for the first week. We wanted to give him a rest; but I do notthink we pleased him. However, he bowed to our decision with his usualgracious courtesy. As hunting companion for Bagsby we appointed MissouriJones, with the understanding that every two days that office was tohave a new incumbent. Johnny, McNally, and I took charge of the drywash, and the rest of the party tackled the bar. Of course weall--except Bagsby--were to share equally.

  Unless the wash should prove very productive we would have the worst endof it, for we had to carry the pay dirt down to the stream's edge. Forthe purpose we used the pack-sacks--or _alforjas_, as the Spaniardscall them. Each held about sixty or seventy pounds of dirt. We foundthis a sweaty and stumbly task--to stagger over the water-smoothedboulders of the wash, out across the shingle to the edge of the stream.There one of us dumped his burden into the cradle; and we proceeded towash it out. We got the "colour" at once in the residuary black sand.

  All morning we laboured manfully, and discovered a brand new set ofmuscles. By comparison our former toil of mere digging and washingseemed light and pleasurable exercise.

  "If this stuff don't run pretty high," grunted McNally, wiping the sweatfrom his eyes, "it's me voting for the bar. We can't stand all day ofthis."

  He heaved the contents of his pack-sack into the cradle, and shook itdisgustedly. Suddenly his jaw dropped and his eye widened with sopoignant an expression that we both begged him, in alarm, to tell uswhat was the matter.

  "Now, will you look at that!" he cried.

  We followed the direction of his gaze, but saw only the meadow, and thehorses feeding in it, and the thin smoke beyond, where Don Gaspar wasbending his proud Castilian spirit to attend to fried steak andflapjacks.

  "Look at those horses!" cried McNally with growing indignation.

  "What's the matter with them?" cried Johnny and I in a breath.

  "Matter with them! Nothing!" cried McNally with comical disgust. "Thematter's with us." He rapped his knuckles on his head. "Solid, all theway through!" said he. "Why, save from nat'ral born human imbelicity,should horses be living like gentlemen while gentlemen are working likehorses!"

  We took the hint. That afternoon we saddled the pack-horses and ledthem, laden with the dirt, back and forth between the ravine and thecradle.

  All of us worked until rather later in the day than usual.... Thehunters, too, did not return until dark. We weighed the results of ourlabour with eager interest. From our cradle we had taken eleven ounces,while those working the bar had gained just over nine. That was a goodday's work, and we were much elated.

  "And most any time," exulted Johnny, "we'll run into a big pocket withthousands."