The Cave of Gold<br />A Tale of California in '49 by Everett McNeil (summer books txt) 📖

in a piece of buckskin, thrust it into one of his pockets. "Wal, th' excitement is all over now, boys, an' you can return tew y'ur downy couches an' soft pillers. I reckon thar won't be no more owl hootin' tew-night, leastwise not from that bird," and Ham chuckled.

All now returned to the camp and to their blankets; and Ham resumed his watch in the dark shadows under the big tree.

Ham was right. There was no more owl hooting that night. But the finding of that finger had brought uneasy thoughts to all. Evidently they had not succeeded in throwing their cunning enemies off the trail. And now, here they were within a few hours' march of Lot's Canyon, of the Cave of Gold, and with the scoundrels still hot on their track! What was to be done? How could they now hope to throw Ugger and his men off their trail, when all their efforts so far had been in vain? Indeed, how had Ugger and his men been able to keep on their trail, through all the maze of mountains and forests and winding gulches and twisting ravines through which they had been passing? That was a great mystery to all—to all, except Pedro.

CHAPTER XXIV IN LOT'S CANYON

The next morning, just as they were about to start on their way Mr. Conroyal called the little company together.

"You all know what happened last night, and what it means," he said. "In spite of all our efforts to throw them off, that Ugger gang apparently are still on our trail. Now, Dickson says that we can make Lot's Canyon this afternoon; but, if we do, them skunks will be sure to follow us and to find it, too. Under such circumstances what shall we do? Shall we try again to fool them, by not going straight to the canyon to-day and see if we can't slip into it to-night without being seen? Or, shall we defy them, and march straight for the canyon, without any effort to hide our trail?"

"That last plan hits my bull's-eye," declared Ham emphatically. "If they want tew foller, let 'em foller. If they want tew fight, we'll give 'em all th' fight they want," and Ham's lips closed grimly. "I'm tired of tryin' tew dodge th' dirty sneakin' murderin' pack of cowards any longer. I gives my vote for marchin' as straight tew Lot's Canyon as th' good Lord an' Dickson can take us."

"Bully for Ham!" shouted Bud enthusiastically. "I vote with Ham," and he sprang to Ham's side.

"So do I," and Thure followed him.

"Me, too," and, with a laugh, Mrs. Dickson took her stand by the side of the boys.

And, with a cheer, all the others joined her.

"Reckon that means, straight for Lot's Canyon. Lead on," and Mr. Conroyal turned to Dickson.

Until about noon the trail wound around great hills of rocks, and in and out of deep gulches and rocky defiles, and over high ridges of rock; and then, just as the sun was nearing the meridian, it entered a broad mountain-enclosed valley, some six or seven miles long by about two miles wide. Near the upper end of the valley a tall pinnacle of rocks shot up into the sky, like a church steeple, at the head of what looked like an almost precipitous mass of rocks that rose many hundreds of feet above the level of the valley.

"See that rock?" and Dickson pointed triumphantly to the steeple-like rock at the head of the valley.

"Shore, not bein' blind," Ham answered. "What might it be doin' thar?" and he grinned.

"That rock," and Dickson paused to glance around the circle of faces that now surrounded him, "stands within half a mile of the Devil's Slide, which is the only way down into Lot's Canyon. Boys, we should be in Lot's Canyon in two hours!"

"Hurrah!" yelled Thure.

"Hurrah!" echoed Bud.

"Come on," cried Mr. Conroyal. "The sooner we get there the better. Pedro, see if you can't liven up them pack-horses a little."

"Si, si, señor," and Pedro began hurling volleys of Mexican oaths at the pack-horses and running from one to another of them, striking with his whip and urging with his voice, until the patient animals were moving as fast as the safety of their packs would permit.

Pedro appeared to be in unusually good spirits that day. All the gloom of the day before had vanished with the dawning of the morning of the night of the hooting owl.

In an hour and a half, so eagerly did they press forward, our little company had passed the steeple-like pinnacle of rocks; and in another fifteen minutes they had climbed to the top of a ridge of rocks, and were looking down a steep, narrow declivity, cut by the wonderous hand of nature, in a precipitous wall of solid rock that rose from the bottom of a canyon five hundred feet below them. The smooth floor of the declivity was not over a dozen feet wide and shot downward at an angle of about forty-five degrees.

"Gosh! I don't wonder Stackpole called that Th' Devil's Slide," and Ham's eyes stared down the steep slope of the declivity. "Ain't thar no other way of gettin' down thar intew that thar canyon?" and he turned to Dickson.

"Not that I know of," Dickson answered. "That was the way Stackpole and I went. It is not as difficult as it looks. The rock is not slippery, and, by being careful, a man can get down all right. But the horses! I don't know about them," and he glanced a little dubiously toward the six horses.

"We'll have to use ropes on them," declared Mr. Conroyal. "Two men to a horse. Get out the ropes."

In a few minutes five strong ropes had been secured from the packs, and preparations were immediately begun for helping the horses down the slide.

There were ten men in the company, including Pedro, and this enabled them to start all the pack-horses at the same time down the declivity. The method of procedure was simple. The middle of a strong rope some thirty feet long was placed under the neck of a horse and across the breast and fastened there, so that it could not slip down. Then two men took hold of the rope, one at each end, and, by walking a little behind and on opposite sides of the horse, they were in position to hold back the animal, should he start to slide or get to going too fast. In this way and with very little trouble, for the footing down the declivity was much better than they expected it would be, they soon had the six horses safely down the Devil's Slide.

All now stood at the bottom of a deep canyon, with walls of nearly perpendicular rock rising on both sides from five hundred to a thousand feet above their heads. The bottom was strewn with rocks of all shapes and sizes, and little clumps of trees and bushes grew here and there.

"This," and Dickson glanced a bit dramatically around him, "is Lot's Canyon. The white pillar of rock, called Lot's Wife on the map, is about a couple of miles farther up the canyon, and near it stands the Big Tree, and close by that tree, according to the map, should be the hidden entrance to Crooked Arm Gulch. And it must be well-hidden too; for, when I was with Stackpole, we couldn't find a sign of a gulch near the Big Tree, although I remember we looked especially sharp for it right there, because the Indian had told Stackpole that it was near a big tree and that was the biggest tree we could find in the canyon. I hope we have better luck."

"Let us hurry and get to the Big Tree," cried Thure impatiently. "I am sure that, if there is any entrance to any gulch there, some of us can find it. Come on," and the excited boy, with Bud by his side, started up the canyon.

Rex and Dill and Mr. Dickson at once joined the two boys, and the five hurried eagerly forward, leaving the others to come on more slowly with Pedro and the horses.

The canyon was from one hundred to two hundred feet wide at the bottom, and twisted and wound along between its gigantic walls of rock, like a huge serpent. Doubtless in some far distant age it had been the course of a mighty river; but now not a drop of water flowed along its rocky bottom and evidently had not for hundreds of years.

"Looks like a mighty good place for grizzlies," commented Rex, as they hurried along over the rough rocks of the bottom.

"And there has been one here not many minutes ago," supplemented Dill, pointing to the bark of a tree that had been freshly torn by the sharp claws of some powerful animal.

"And there he is!" cried Thure, as they made a sudden turn around a huge point of rocks, projecting a few feet out into the canyon, and came face to face with a huge male grizzly not a hundred feet away.

The grizzly appeared to be very greatly astonished at this sudden invasion of man into his hitherto undisputed realm of rocks, and a little offended. With a deep bass-drum-like "huff, huff," he reared his huge body up on his hind legs, and, turning his wicked little eyes on them, uttered a deep warning growl, as much as to say: "Now, if you men will turn right around and go back, I will not harm you."

"Shall we shoot?" asked Thure, cocking his rifle.

"No, not if the brute will get out of our way," answered Rex. "We have no time to fool with grizzlies," and, cocking his own rifle, he started straight toward the grizzly.

The growl of the bear deepened, and he made no sign of giving way to the intruders.

"All right, old man," and Rex stopped and threw his rifle to his shoulder. "Stand ready to fire, if my bullet fails to bring him down," he warned, as his eye glanced swiftly along the rifle barrel.

But Rex Holt was one of the best rifle shots in California, and knew exactly where to send his bullet in order to make it instantly fatal; and there was no need of a second shot, for almost at the instant of the crack of his rifle, the huge beast, with a deep startled, "huff," and a staggering leap toward them, tumbled sprawlingly to the ground, as if all his tough muscles had been suddenly turned to hot tallow, and with a few quiverings, the great frame lay still.

"No time to bother with him now. Let him lay there for the present. Come on," and Rex, pausing by the side of the grizzly only long enough to assure himself that the monster was dead, hurried on up the canyon.

For half an hour longer they struggled on over the broken rocks that covered the bottom of the canyon; and then they came to where the canyon made an abrupt turn, and, widening out a little, ran straight ahead for half a mile or more.

The moment they made this turn and looked up the clear stretch of canyon, all uttered a shout of triumph. Some two hundred yards from them and near the east wall of the canyon grew a huge oak tree; and, perhaps a hundred yards farther up the canyon, stood a tall pillar of white rock.

"The Big Tree!" yelled Thure exultingly, starting on the run for the tree.

"Lot's Wife!" shouted Bud, racing along after Thure.

Rex and Dill and Dickson hastened after the excited boys; and, in a few minutes, all stood beneath the giant branches of the great oak.

The tree was some seventy-five feet high and nearly as broad as it was high; and its huge trunk grew so close to the wall of the canyon that the ends of its great limbs on that side had been pressed tight up against the rocks.

"Well, we are here at last!" Thure's face was flushed and his eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Now, for the hidden entrance to Crooked Arm Gulch!" and his eyes turned eagerly to the walls of the canyon.

The wall of the canyon near the tree, so far as their eyes could judge, was a solid mass of cracked and seamed rocks, that sprang from the bottom of the canyon almost straight upward for five hundred or more feet. There did not appear to be break or opening of any kind, nor did it look as if there ever had been such an opening.

For half an hour the two boys and Rex and Dill and Mr. Dickson searched excitedly up and down the wall of the canyon near the tree, without one of them finding the first sign of an entrance to the