The Golden Dream by Robert Michael Ballantyne (speld decodable readers TXT) 📖

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"There you are," cried the man, exultingly, lifting up a handful of the heavy and shining mixture; "fifteen dollars at least in two shovelfuls. I'll sell ye the claim, if ye like, for two hundred dollars."

"I would give it at once," said Ned, feeling at the moment deeply troubled on account of his poverty; "but, to say truth, I have not a farthing in the world."

A peculiar grin rested on the faces of the miners who looked on as he spoke, but before he could inquire the cause, Tom Collins stepped forward, and said:

"That's a first-rate claim of yours. What did ye say was your charge for it?"

"Three hundred dollars down."

"I'll tell ye what," rejoined Tom, "I'll give you _six_ hundred dollars for it, if you take out another shovelful of dirt like _that_!"

This remark was greeted by a general laugh from, the bystanders, which was joined in by the Yankee himself as he leaped out of the hole, and, shouldering his shovel, went off with his friends, leaving Ned and some others of his party staring at each other in astonishment.

"What _does_ it all mean?" he inquired, turning to Tom Coffins, whose laughing countenance shewed that he at least was not involved in mystery.

"It means simply that we were all taken for green-horns, which was quite a mistake, and that we were to have been thoroughly cheated--a catastrophe which has happily been prevented. Maxton and I determined to let the rascally fellow go as far as he could, and then step in and turn the laugh against him, as we have done."

"But explain yourself. I do not yet understand," repeated Ned, with a puzzled look.

"Why, the fact is, that when strangers arrive at the diggings, full of excitement and expectation, there are always a set of sharpers on the look-out, who offer to sell their claims, as they often say, `for a mere song,' and in order to prove their worth, dig out a little dirt, and wash it, as you have just seen done; taking care beforehand, however, to mingle with it a large quantity of gold-dust, which, of course, comes to light, and a bargain is generally struck on the spot, when the sharper goes off with the price, and boasts of having `done' a green-horn, for which he is applauded by his comrades. Should the fraud be detected before the completion of the bargain, as in our case, he laughs with the rest, and says, probably, he `warn't so 'cute as usual.'"

"Och, the scoundrels!" cried Larry; "an' is there no law for sich doin's?"

"None; at least in most diggings men are left to sharpen their own wits by experience. Sometimes, however, the biter is pretty well bitten. There was a poor Chilian once who was deceived in this way, and paid four hundred dollars for a claim that was scarcely worth working. He looked rather put out on discovering the imposture, but was only laughed at by most of those who saw the transaction for his softness. Some there were who frowned on the sharper, and even spoke of lynching him, but they were a small minority, and had to hold their peace. However, the Chilian plucked up heart, and, leaping into his claim, worked away like a Trojan. After a day or two he hit upon a good layer of blue clay, and from that time he turned out forty dollars a day for two months."

"Ah! good luck to him," cried Larry.

"And did the sharper hear of it?" inquired the captain.

"That he did, and tried to bully the poor fellow, and get his claim back again; but there was a strong enough sense of justice among the miners to cause such an outcry that the scoundrel was fain to seek other diggings."

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Note 1. "Dirt" is the name given among miners, to the soil in which gold is found.


CHAPTER ELEVEN.


GOLD-WASHING--OUR ADVENTURERS COUNT THEIR GAINS, AND ARE SATISFIED--THE "R'YAL BANK O' CALYFORNY" BEGINS TO PROSPER--FRYING GOLD--NIGHT VISIT TO THE GRAVE OF A MURDERED MAN--A MURDERER CAUGHT--THE ESCAPE AND PURSUIT.

Having escaped from the Yankee land-shark, as has been related, our adventurers spent the remainder of the day in watching the various processes of digging and washing out gold, in imbibing valuable lessons, and in selecting a spot for their future residence.

The two processes in vogue at Little Creek at that time were the _pan_ and the _cradle_ washing. The former has been already adverted to, and was much practised because the ground at that time was rich in the precious metal and easily wrought; the extreme simplicity, too, of the operation, which only required that the miner should possess a pick, a shovel, and a tin pan, commended it to men who were anxious to begin at once. An expert man, in favourable ground, could gather and wash a panful of "dirt," as it is called, every ten minutes; and there were few places in Little Creek that did not yield half-a-dollar or more to the panful, thus enabling the digger to work out gold-dust to the value of about twenty-five dollars, (five pounds sterling), every day, while occasionally he came upon a lump or nugget, equal, perhaps, to what he could produce by the steady labour of a week or more.

Many of the more energetic miners, however, worked in companies and used cradles, by means of which they washed out a much larger quantity of gold in shorter time; and in places which did not yield a sufficient return by the pan process to render it worth while working, the cradle-owners obtained ample remuneration for their toil.

The cradle is a very simple machine, being a semicircular trough, hollowed out of a log, from five to six feet long by sixteen inches in diameter. At one end of this is a perforated copper or iron plate, with a rim of wood round it, on which the "dirt" is thrown, and water poured thereon by one man, while the cradle is rocked by another. The gold and gravel are thus separated from the larger stones, and washed down the trough, in which, at intervals, two transverse bars, half-an-inch high, are placed; the first of these arrests the gold, which, from its great weight, sinks to the bottom, while the gravel and lighter substances are swept away by the current. The lower bar catches any particles of gold that, by awkward management, may have passed the upper one. Three men usually worked together at a rocker, one digging, one carrying the "dirt" in a bucket, and one rocking the cradle.

The black sand, which, along with the gold, is usually left after all the washing and rocking processes are completed, is too heavy to be separated by means of washing. It has therefore to be blown away from the gold after the mass has been dried over a fire, and in this operation great care is requisite lest the finer particles of gold should be blown off along with it.

The spot fixed on as the future residence of our friends was a level patch of greensward about a stone-cast from the banks of the stream, and twice that distance from the lowest cabin of the colony, which was separated and concealed from them by a group of wide-spreading oaks and other trees. A short distance behind the spot the mountains ascended in steep wooded slopes, and, just in front, the cliffs of the opposite hills rose abruptly from the edge of the stream, but a narrow ravine, that split them in a transverse manner, afforded a peep into the hills beyond. At evening, when the rest of the vale of Little Creek was shrouded in gloom, this ravine permitted the last beams of the setting sun to stream through and flood their encampment with rosy light.

Here the tent was pitched, and a fire kindled by Tom Collins, he being intrusted with the command of the party, whose duty it was to prepare the camp. This party included Bill Jones, Maxton, and the vaquero. Ned, the captain, and Larry O'Neil went, under the guidance of McLeod, to select a claim, and take lessons in washing.

"This seems a likely spot," said the Scotchman, as he led his new acquaintances down to the stream, a few yards below their encampment. "You may claim as much ground as you please, for there is room enough and to spare for all at the Creek yet. I would recommend a piece of ground of ten or twelve feet square for each to begin with."

"Here is a level patch that I shall appropriate, then," said Ned, smiling at the idea of becoming so suddenly and easily a landed proprietor--and to such an extent.

"I suppose we don't require to make out title-deeds!" remarked the captain.

"There's _my_ title dade," cried Larry, driving his pick into the earth.

"You are right, Larry," said McLeod, laughing, "no other deed is required in this delightfully-free country."

"Ah! thin, it's quite to my taste; sure I niver thought to see the swate spot where I could pick out me property an' pick up me fortin' so aisy."

"Don't count your chickens quite so fast," said Ned, "may be it won't be so easy as you think. But let us begin and ascertain the value of our claims; I vote that Larry shall have the honour of washing out the first panful of gold, as a reward for his enthusiasm."

"A very proper obsarvation," remarked the Irishman, as he commenced work without further delay.

In the course of ten minutes part of the layer of surface-earth was removed, revealing the bluish-clay soil in which gold was usually found; the pan was filled with this "pay-dirt," as it was called, in contradistinction to the "surface-dirt," which didn't "pay," and was taken down to the stream, where Larry washed it out under the eye of McLeod; but he did it clumsily, as might be expected, and lost a considerable amount of valuable material. Still, for a first attempt, it was pretty well done, and his companions watched the result with feelings of excited earnestness, that they felt half-ashamed to admit even to themselves. There was mingled with this feeling a sort of vague incredulity, and a disposition to ridicule the idea that they were actually endeavouring to wash gold out of the ground; but when Larry's panful began to diminish, and the black sand appeared, sparkling with unmistakeably-brilliant particles of reddish-yellow metal, they felt that the golden dream was in truth becoming a sober reality.

As the process proceeded, and the precious metal began to appear, Larry's feelings found vent in abrupt remarks.

"Och! av me tshoo eyes--musha! there it is--goold intirely--av it isn't brass. Ah ye purty little stars!--O Larry, it's yerself as'll buy yer owld mother a pig, an' a coach to boot. Hooroo! Mr Scotchman, I misremimber yer name, wot's that?"

Larry started up in excitement, and held up between his fore-finger and thumb what appeared to be a small stone.

"Ha! friend, you're in luck. That's a small nugget," replied McLeod, examining the lump of gold. "It's worth ten dollars at least. I have worked often two or three weeks at a time without coming on such a chunk as that."

"Ye don't mane it! eh! Och! give it me. Hooray!" and the Irishman, seizing the little lump with trembling eagerness, rushed off, shouting and yelling,