CHAPTER XXV.
MORE WORK IN THE GULCHES.
"They are going to lynch a fellow named Guardley!" ejaculated Earl. "Iwonder if it can be Jasper Guardley."
"It must be; it's not likely there is another Guardley up here--the nameisn't as common as all that," returned Randy. "Shall we go?"
Earl hesitated. There was something appalling in a lynching, to hismind. Yet he was curious to know more of the crime for which theprisoner was about to suffer.
"Yes, we might as well--if Fred will watch the camp," he answered.
"I'll watch it as well as I can," answered Fred. The work he had beendoing had tired him more than he would admit, and he was glad enough totake it easy. He knew Guardley, but took small interest in the man hisfather had sent up more than once for petty crimes.
In less than five minutes Earl and Randy were off, stalking over thehills and along Gold Bottom Creek as rapidly as their tired limbs wouldcarry them. Smedley's, a settlement of two-score of tents and one boardcabin where a few odds and ends could be bought, was nearly two milesdistance, yet they arrived there in less than half an hour--fast timewhen the state of the trails they had travelled was taken intoconsideration.
They found that the prisoner had been bound, hands and feet, and placedin the storeroom of the board cabin, a little shed in the rear, scarcelyeight feet by twelve and hardly high enough for a man to stand in. Tworough-looking miners were on guard, one with a gun, and the other withan old-fashioned horse-pistol over a foot long.
"What do you want?" demanded one of the miners of Earl, as the latterpushed his way forward through the fast-gathering crowd. "This ain't noplace fer a young rooster like you."
"I would like to see the prisoner, please," answered Earl. "I think Iknow him."
"You ain't the feller's pard, are ye?" demanded the second guard,suspiciously.
"No. I am from Maine, and I knew a Guardley up there who came to thesediggings. I wanted to find out if it was the same man."
"Say, is that Earl Portney?" came from within, and both Earl and Randyrecognized Jasper Guardley's voice. "If it is, I'd like to talk to him."
"Yes, Guardley," answered Earl. "What's the trouble?"
"I WOULD LIKE TO SEE THE PRISONER, PLEASE."--_Page 196._]
"Can't you come in and talk to me?"
"I'll come in if the guards will allow it," and Earl looked at the men.
"Go on in; but leave yer gun with me, if yer got one," was the reply,from the man who had first addressed Earl.
"I haven't any pistol," said the youth, and passed into the shed. Randywas about to follow, but the guard stopped him. "One's enough, my lad;you wait outside." And Randy fell back into the crowd, which keptincreasing every minute.
From those around him, Randy learned that Guardley was being held forthe theft of eighty ounces of gold dust, which had been buried by aminer, named Cozzins, under the flooring of his tent. Cozzins had missedhis gold that morning, and three other miners had testified to seeingGuardley sneaking around the place, in company with another man,presumably Tom Roland. Roland and the gold were both gone, and Guardleyhad been "collared" just as he was about to leave for Dawson City. Theminers around Smedley's had held a meeting, and it was likely thatGuardley's crime would cost him his life.
"For you see we ain't got no jails here," explained one miner. "An' toleave sech a measly critter run would be puttin' a premium on crime."
When Earl came out of the shed his face was very pale, and he was on thepoint of passing the guards without a word, when they stopped him."Well, wot did ye make out?" demanded one, laconically.
"He says he didn't take the gold--that the robbery was planned andexecuted by his partner. It is awful to think of taking his life."
"It's his own fault, lad--he should have thunk o' those things afore heconsented to help on the job."
"When will they--they--"
"Perform the ceremony? I reckon some time between now an' sunrise,onless the crowd changes its mind. They're goin' to talk it over agin ezsoon as Cozzins comes back. He's huntin' fer thet other rascal."
After this Earl joined Randy, who was anxious to hear what Guardley hadhad to say. The two walked some distance away.
"I believe Tom Roland stole the gold," began Earl, "but Guardley waswilling he should, and he remained on guard around the tent while Rolanddug it up, so he's just as guilty."
"But to take his life--" shuddered Randy.
"I hope they change their minds about that. And, by the way, we wereright about that money in Boston. Roland got that, and he had that lostletter, too. Guardley admitted it, although he didn't give me anyparticulars. He is trying to lay the blame of everything on Roland."
A shout interrupted the conversation at this point. Cozzins had comeback after an exciting but fruitless chase. At his appearance the scenetook on a new activity, and the would-be lynching party moved to thefront of the so-called store, where half a dozen flaring torches and twosmoking kerosene lamps lit up the weird scene. Here Cozzins told hisstory, and then Guardley was brought out, trembling in every limb. Hebegged over and over again to be let go, and his earnestness had itseffect even on the man who had been robbed. A talk lasting a quarter ofan hour followed, and then Guardley was given his choice of twosentences,--the one being that already pronounced, and the other being awhip-lashing on his bare back, and a drumming out of the camp, with thewarning that if he ever showed up there again, he was to be shot onsight. With a long sigh of relief he chose the latter punishment, andwas ordered to strip, while Cozzins prepared for his part in the affair,by hunting up the hardest and strongest rawhide dog-whip to be found.
"I don't want to see the whipping," whispered Randy; "let us go home.Poor Guardley! I guess Cozzins will make him suffer as he has neversuffered before!"
"I hope it teaches him a lesson to turn over a new leaf," answered Earl."But I'm afraid there isn't any reform to Guardley. He hasn't evenenough manliness to shoulder his share of the blame, but tries to put itall off on Roland. Come on." And they turned away without another word.Before they were out of hearing distance of the camp, a shriek rent theair, telling that Guardley's punishment had already begun.
The boys had expected their uncle to come back by Tuesday as told; butin the afternoon one of the miners, working down Mosquito Hollow,brought word from Dawson City that Mr. Portney could not get his lumberfor two or three days, and might be absent the remainder of the week inconsequence. So there was nothing to do but to keep on working at theclaims with the hand pans, and this Randy and Earl did, Fred helpingthem as far as he was able. The boy who had been so ill-treated and halfstarved was growing stronger rapidly, and he showed a willingness to doeven the most disagreeable things which was as astonishing as it wasgratifying.
Friday found the trio working up along a little split in the rocks onthe right bank of the gulch. The split was not over two feet wide bytwelve feet long, and it was filled with gravel and muck, with here andthere the nest of a field mouse among the tundra. Earl had suggestedclearing out the split, and he had gone in first to loosen the gravelwith his pick. About three loads of soil had been removed and carteddown to the gulch stream, and now Earl found the balance of the splitblocked by a huge rock.
"Doesn't seem to amount to much," he said, throwing down his tools tomop the perspiration from his brow.
"Let me go in there," suggested Fred, and caught up the pick. Swingingthe tool over his shoulder, he brought it down with all force at a spotwhere the rock showed a slight crack.
"Look out, or you'll break that pick!" called out Randy, when the fronthalf of the rock fell away, and Fred had to jump up to avoid having hisfeet crushed. As he made the leap, his eyes caught sight of a surface ofyellow half hidden by muck and moss. He struck at it with the pick, andout came a nugget nearly as big as his fist. He grabbed it up in atransport of delight.
"Look! look! A nugget! Oh, what a big fellow! How much do you think it'sworth?" he cried; and rubbed the muck off with his coat sleeve. "Itlooks
as if it was solid!"
"It is almost solid," said Earl, weighing the find in his hand. "It'sworth two or three hundred dollars at least." And then he added, by wayof a caution, "You'll have to remember, Fred, that this is my uncle'sclaim."
"Oh, I know that. But it ought to be worth something for finding it,"said Fred, wistfully.
"Certainly, we'll make it right."
"Of course we will," added Randy. "Let us see if there are any morenuggets in there. This may be a pocket, like the one I found on ProsperGulch." He went forward, but Earl was ahead of him, and was using thepick with all the speed and skill at his command. As the remainder ofthe rock came away, a mass of sand, gravel, and dirt followed.
"Here are four small nuggets," said Randy, picking them up."Fifty-dollar finds, every one of them."
Earl said nothing, although he heard the talk. He had espied a gleam ofdull yellow wedged in between the side of the split and a second rock.He tried to force the second rock out, and as it moved forward the gleamof yellow became larger and larger, until his hand could not havecovered it. He worked on frantically, hardly daring to breathe. At lastthe rock fell and the face of the nugget lay revealed, shaped very muchlike the sole and heel of a large man's shoe.
"What have you got?" asked Randy and Fred simultaneously, seeingsomething was up; but Earl kept right on, picking away below the find,and to both sides. It seemed to him the thing would never come out, andas he realized how large the nugget was, his hands trembled so he couldscarcely hold the pick. "I've struck a fortune!" he muttered, at last,in a strangely hoarse voice. "See if anybody is looking, Randy." Andthen the nugget came loose, and he clutched it in both hands and held itup,--a dull, dirty, yellowish lump, worth at least three thousanddollars!