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

/> "Do you know," said Ned Sinton, as they sat down on a rock in one of the inner chambers to rest, "this place recalls vividly to my remembrance a strange dream which I had just before leaving England."

"Indeed!" said Tom; "I hope you're not a believer in dreams. Don't, I beseech you, take it into your head that it's going to be realised at this particular moment, whatever it was."

"It would take a very strong amount of belief indeed to induce me to expect the realisation of _that_ dream. Shall I tell it you?"

"Is it a very ghostly one?" inquired Tom.

"No; not at all."

"Then out with it."

Ned immediately began the narration of the remarkable dream with which this story opens, and as he went on to tell of how the stout old gentleman snuffed gold-dust, and ultimately shot up to the roof of the cave, and became a golden stalactite, Tom Collins, whose risible tendencies were easily roused, roared with laughter, until the vaulted caverns echoed again. At the end of one of these explosions, the two friends were struck dumb by certain doleful and mysterious sounds which proceeded from the further end of the inmost chamber. In starting to his feet, Tom Collins let fall his torch, and in the convulsive clutch which he made to catch it, he struck the other torch out of Ned's hand, so that instantly both were left in the profoundest darkness, with their hearts beating like sledge-hammers against their ribs.

To flee was their first and natural impulse; but to flee in the dark, over rough ground, and with very imperfect ideas as to the position of the cave's outlet, was dangerous.

"What _is_ to be done?" ejaculated Tom Collins in a tone that indicated the perturbation of his heart too clearly.

At that moment Ned remembered that he had a box of matches in the pocket of his hunting-coat; so, without answering, he drew it forth, struck a light, and re-ignited the torches.

"Now, Tom," he said, "don't let us give way to unmanly fears. I have no belief whatever in ghosts or spirits, good or evil, being permitted to come in visible or audible form to frighten poor mortals. Every effect has a cause, and I'm determined to find out the cause of these strange sounds. They certainly proceed from animal lungs, whether from man or beast remains to be seen."

"Go ahead, then, I'll follow," said Tom, whose courage had returned with the light, "I'm game for anything that I can see; but I confess to you that I can _not_ stand howls, and groans and darkness."

Notwithstanding their utmost efforts they failed to discover the cause of the mysterious sounds, which seemed at times to be voices muttering, while at other times they swelled out into a loud cry. All that could be certainly ascertained was, that they proceeded from the roof of the innermost cavern, and that the centre of that roof was too high to be discerned by torch-light.

"What shall we do now?" inquired Tom.

"We shall go to the summit of the hill above this cave, and see what is to be seen there. Always look at both sides of a mystery if you would fathom it; come along."

In a few minutes they stood in open air, and once more breathed freely. Mounting their horses, they ascended the steep slope of the hill above the cave, and, after some trouble, reached the summit. Here the first thing that met their gaze was a camp-fire, and near to it several men engaged in harnessing their horses to a large waggon or van. The frantic haste with which they performed the operation convinced Ned that he had discovered the cause of the mysterious voices, and that he and Tom had been the innocent cause of frightening the strangers nearly out of their wits. So engrossed were they with their work, that our travellers advanced within the circle of light of their fire before they were discovered. The man who first saw them uttered a yell, and the whole party turned round, seized their rifles, and, with terror depicted on their countenances, faced the intruders.

"Who comes here?" shouted one.

"Friends," answered Ned, laying down his rifle and advancing.

Instantly the men threw down their arms and resumed the work of harnessing their horses.

"If ye be friends," cried the one who spoke first, "give us a hand. I guess all the fiends in the bottomless pit are lo-cated jist below our feet."

"Listen to me for one moment, gentlemen," cried Ned Sinton. "I think I can relieve your minds. What have you heard or seen?"

At these words the men stopped, and looked inquiringly at their questioner.

"Seen! stranger, we've seed nothin', but we've _hear'd_ a sight, we have, I calc'late. We hear'd the imps o' darkness talkin' as plain as I hear you. At first I thought it was somebody at the foot o' the hill, but all of a suddent the imps took to larfin' as if they'd split, jist under my feet, so I yelled out to my mate here to come an' yoke the beasts and git away as slick as we could. We wos jist about ready to slope when you appeared."

Ned now explained to them the cause of their alarms, and on search being made, a hole was found, as he had anticipated, close at hand among the bushes, which communicated with the cavern below, and formed a channel for the conveyance of the so-called mysterious sounds.

"And now," said Ned, "may I ask permission to pass the night with you?"

"You're welcome, stranger," replied he who seemed to be the chief of the band--a tall, bearded American, named Croft, who seemed more like a bandit than an honest man. His comrades, too, six in number, appeared a wild and reckless set of fellows, with whom one would naturally desire to hold as little intercourse as possible; but most men at the Californian diggings had more or less the aspect of brigands, so Ned Sinton and his companion felt little concern as to their characters, although they did feel a little curious as to what had brought them to such a wild region.

"If it is not taking too great a liberty," said Ned, after answering the thousand questions put to him in rapid succession by his Yankee host, "may I ask what has brought you to this out-of-the-way valley?"

"Bear-catchin'," answered the man, shortly, as he addressed himself to a large venison steak, which a comrade had just cooked for him.

"Bear-catching?" ejaculated Ned.

"Ay, an' screamin' hard work it is too, I guess; but it pays well."

"What do you do with them when caught?" inquired Tom Collins, in a somewhat sceptical tone.

"Take 'em down to the cities, an' sells 'em to fight with wild bulls."

At this answer our travellers stared at the man incredulously.

"You're strangers here, I see," he resumed, "else you'd know that we have bull and bear fights. The grizzlies are chained by one leg and the bulls let loose at 'em. The bulls charge like all possessed, but they find it hard to do much damage to Caleb, whose hide is like a double-extra rhinoceros. The grizzlies ginerally git the best of it; an' if they was let loose, they'd chaw up the bulls in no time, they would. There's a great demand for 'em jist now, an' my trade is catchin' 'em alive here in the mountains."

The big Yankee stretched out his long limbs and smoked his pipe with the complacent aspect of a man who felt proud of his profession.

"Do you mean that you seven men catch fall-grown grizzly-bears alive and take them down to the settlements?" inquired Ned in amazement.

"Sartinly I do," replied the bear-catcher; "an' why not, stranger?"

"Because I should have thought it impossible."

"Nothin''s impossible," replied the man, quietly.

"But how do you manage it?"

Instead of replying, the Yankee inquired if "the strangers" would stay over next forenoon with them.

"With much pleasure," answered Ned, not a little amused at the invitation, as well as the man's _brusque_ manner.

"Well, then," continued the bear-catcher, shaking the ashes out of his pipe, and putting it into his hat, "I'll let ye see how we do it in the mornin'. Good-night."

So saying, he drew his blanket over his head and resigned himself to sleep, an example which was speedily followed by the whole party.


CHAPTER TWENTY.


GRIZZLY-BEAR-CATCHING IN THE MOUNTAINS--NED AND TOM DINE IN THE MIDST OF ROMANTIC SCENERY, AND HOLD SAGACIOUS CONVERSE--THE STRANGE DEVICES OF WOODPECKERS.

Just as day began to peep on the following morning, the camp was roused by one of the bear-catchers, a Mexican, who had been away to visit the bear-trap during the night, and now came rushing in among the sleepers, shouting--

"Hoor-roo! boy, him cotch, him cotch! big as twinty mans! fact!"

At first Ned thought the camp was attacked by savages, and he and Tom sprang to their feet and grasped their rifles, while they sought to rub their eyes open hastily. A glance at the other members of the camp, however, shewed that they were unnecessarily alarmed. Croft leisurely stretched his limbs, and then gathered himself slowly into a sitting posture, while the others arose with various degrees of reluctance.

"Bin long in?" inquired Croft.

"No, jist cotched," answered the Mexican, who sat down, lit his pipe, and smoked violently, to relieve his impatient feelings.

"Big 'un?" inquired Croft, again.

To this the Mexican answered by rolling his eyes and exclaiming "Hoh!" with a degree of vigour that left his hearers to imagine anything they pleased, and then settle it in their minds that the thing so imagined was out of all sight short of the mark.

The excitement of the man at last fully roused the sleepy crew, and Croft sprang up with the agility of a cat.

"Ho! boys," he cried, proceeding to buckle his garments round him, "up with you. Ketch the hosses, an' put to. Look alive, will you? grease your jints, _do_. Now, strangers, I'll shew you how we ketch a bar in this lo-cation; bring yer rules, for sometimes he breaks his trap, an' isn't there a spree jist!"

We need scarcely remark, that the latter part of this speech was made to Sinton and his comrade, who were drawing the charges of their revolvers and reloading.

"Is the trap far off?" inquired Ned.

"Quarter of an hour, or so. Look sharp, lads."

This exhortation was unnecessary, for the men had already caught three stout horses, all of which were attached to an enormous waggon or van, whose broad wheels accounted for the tracks discovered in the valley on the previous evening.

"That's his cage," said the bear-catcher, replying to Ned's look of inquiry. "It's all lined with sheet-iron, and would hold an ontamed streak o' lightnin', it would. Now, then, drive ahead."

The lumbering machine jolted slowly down the hill as he spoke, and while several of the party remained with the horses, Croft and our travellers, with the remainder, pushed on ahead. In less than twenty minutes, they came to a ravine filled with thick underwood, from the recesses of which came forth sounds of fierce ursine wrath that would have