The Golden Dream - Robert Michael Ballantyne (best biographies to read .txt) 📗

and the bear sit--the one at the top, and the other at the foot of the oak-tree-- looking at each other. As darkness came on, the form of the bear became indistinct and shadowy; and the captain's eyes waxed heavy, from constant staring and fatigue, so that at length bruin seemed, to the alarmed fancy of the tree'd mariner, to be twice the size of an elephant. At last the darkness became so deep that its form mingled with the shadows on the ground, and for some time the uncertainty as to its actual presence kept the prisoner wakeful; but soon his eyes began to close, despite his utmost efforts to keep them open; and for two hours he endured an agonising struggle with sleep, compared to which his previous struggle with Black Jim was mere child's-play. He tried every possible position among the branches, in the hope of finding one in which he might indulge in sleep without the risk of falling, but no such position was to be found; the limbs of the tree were too small and too far apart.

At last, however, he did find a spot to lie down on, and, with a sigh of relief, lay back to indulge in repose. Alas! the spot was a myth--he merely dreamed it; the next moment he dropt, like a huge over-ripe pear, to the ground. Fortunately a bush broke the violence of his fall, and, springing up with a cry of consternation, he rushed towards the tree, expecting each instant to feel the terrible hug of his ursine enemy. The very marrow in his back-bone seemed to shrink, for he fancied that he actually felt the dreaded claws sinking into his flesh. In his haste he missed the branch, and fell violently forward, scratching himself terribly among the bushes. Again he rose, and a cold perspiration broke out upon him as he uttered an involuntary howl of terror, and once more leaped up at the limb of the oak, which he could just barely see. He caught it; despair nerved him, and in another moment he was safe, and panting violently among the branches.

We need scarcely say that this little episode gave his feelings such a tremendous shock that his tendency to sleep was thoroughly banished; but another and a better result flowed from it,--the involuntary hubbub created by his yells and crashing falls reached listening and not far-distant ears.

During their evening meal that day, Ned Sinton and his comrades had speculated pretty freely, and somewhat jocularly, on the probable result of the captain's hunting expedition--expressing opinions regarding the powers of the blunderbuss, which it was a shame, Larry O'Neil said, "to spake behind its back;" but as night drew on, they conversed more seriously, and when darkness had fairly set in they became anxious.

"It's quite clear that something's wrong," cried Ned Sinton, entering the tent hastily, "we must up and search for him. The captain's not the man to lose his way with a compass in his pocket and so many landmarks round him."

All the party rose at once, and began to buckle on belts and arm, while eagerly suggesting plans of search.

"Who can make a torch?" inquired Ned.

"Here's one ready made to hand," cried Maxton, seizing a huge pine-knot and lighting it.

"Some one must stay behind to look after our things. The new-comers who camped beside us to-day are not used to mining life, and don't sufficiently know the terrors of Lynch law. Do you stop, Maxton. Now then, the rest of you, come along."

Ned issued from the tent as he spoke, and walked at a rapid pace along the track leading up the valley, followed closely by Tom Collins, Larry O'Neil, and Bill Jones--all of whom were armed with rifles, revolvers, and bowie-knives. For a long time they walked on in silence, guided by the faint light of the stars, until they came to the flat rock which had formed the captain's dinner-table. Here they called a halt, in order to discuss the probability of their lost comrade having gone up the ravine. The question was soon settled by Larry, who discovered a few crumbs of the biscuit lying on the rock, and footprints leading up the ravine; for the captain, worthy man, had stepped recklessly into the little stream when he went to fill his pannikin, and his wet feet left a distinct track behind him for some distance.

"He can't have gone far up such a wild place as this," said Tom Collins, while they moved cautiously along. "Kindle the torch, Ned, it will light us on our way, and be a guide to the captain if he's within sight."

"It will enlighten enemies, too, if any are within range," replied Ned, hesitating.

"Oh, no fear," rejoined Tom, "our greatest enemy is darkness; here, Jones, hand me your match-box."

In a few seconds the torch flared forth, casting a broad glare of light on their path, as they advanced, examining the foot of precipices.

"Give a shout, Larry," said Ned.

Larry obeyed, and all listened intently, but, save the echo from the wild cliffs, no reply was heard.

Had the captain been wide-awake at the time, he would, doubtless, have heard the friendly shout, but his ears were dull from prolonged watching. It was thought needless to repeat the cry, so the party resumed their search with anxious forebodings in their hearts, though their lips were silent.

They had not proceeded far, however, when the noise occasioned by the captain's fall from the tree, as already described, struck upon their ears.

"Och! what's that?" exclaimed Larry, with a look of mingled surprise and superstitious fear.

For a minute the party seemed transformed into statues, as each listened intently to the mysterious sounds.

"They come from the other side of the point ahead," remarked Ned, in a whisper. "Light another torch, Larry, and come on--quick!"

Ned led the way at a run, holding one of the torches high above his head, and in a few minutes passed round the point above referred to. The glare of his torch immediately swept far ahead, and struck with gladsome beam on the now wakeful eye of the captain, who instantly greeted it with one of his own peculiarly powerful and eminently nautical roars.

"Hooroo!" yelled Larry, in reply, dashing forward at full speed. "Here we are all right, capting, comin' to the rescue; don't give in, capting; pitch into the blackguards--"

"Look out for the grizzly-bear," roared the captain, as his friends advanced at a run, waving their torches encouragingly.

The whole party came to a dead halt on this unexpected caution, and each cocked his piece as they looked, first into the gloom beyond, and then at each other, in surprise and perplexity.

"Halloo! captain, where are you?" shouted Ned.

"And where's the bear!" added Tom Collins.

"Right in front o' you," replied the captain, "about fifty yards on. The bear's at the bottom o' the tree, and I'm a-top of it. Come on, and fire together; but aim _low_, d'ye hear?"

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Bill Jones, as if he were answering a command on shipboard, while he advanced boldly in the direction indicated.

The others were abreast of him instantly, Ned and Larry holding the torches high in their left hands as they approached, step by step, with rifles ready for instant use.

"Have a care," cried the captain; "I see him. He seems to be crouchin' to make a rush."

This caused another halt; but as no rush was made, the party continued to advance very slowly.

"Oh! av ye would only shew yerself," said Larry, in a suppressed tone of exasperation at being kept so long in nervous expectation.

"I see him," cried Ned, taking aim.

The rest of the party cried "Where!" aimed in the same direction, and the whole fired a volley, the result of which was, that Captain Bunting fell a second time to the ground, crashing through the branches with a terrible noise, and alighting heavily at the foot of the tree. To the surprise of all, he instantly jumped up, and seizing Ned and Tom as they came up, shook them warmly by the hand.

"Och! are ye not shot, capting?" exclaimed Larry.

"Not a bit; not even hurt," answered the captain, laughing.

The fact was, that Captain Bunting, in his anxiety to escape being accidentally shot by his comrades, had climbed to the utmost possible height among the tender top branches of the oak. When the volley was fired, he lost his balance, fell through the tree, the under branches of which happily broke his fall, and finally alighted on the back of the grizzly-bear itself, which lay extended, and quite dead, on the ground.

"Faix we've polished him off for wance," cried Larry, in the excess of his triumph, as he stood looking at the fallen bear.

"Faix we've done nothing of the sort," retorted Tom Collins, who was examining the carcase. "It's been dead for hours, and is quite cold. Every bullet has missed, too, for the shot that settled him is on the side next the ground. So much for hasty shooting. Had bruin been alive when we fired, I'm inclined to think that some of us would not be alive now."

"Now, that's wot I wos sure of," remarked Bill Jones. "Wot I says is this--w'en yer goin' aloft to reef to'sails, don't be in a hurry. It's o' no manner o' use tryin' to shove on the wind. If ye've got a thing to do, do it slow--slow an' sure. If ye haven't got a thing to do, in coorse ye can't do it, but if ye have, don't be in a hurry--I says."

Bill Jones's maxim is undoubtedly a good one. Not a scratch had the bear received from any one of the party. The bullet of Black Jim had laid him low. Although hurriedly aimed, it had reached the animal's heart, and all the time that Captain Bunting was struggling to overcome his irresistible tendency to sleep, poor bruin was lying a helpless and lifeless body at the foot of the oak-tree.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN.


AH-WOW SAVED FROM AN UNTIMELY FATE--LYNCH LAW ENFORCED--NED SINTON RESOLVES TO RENOUNCE GOLD-DIGGING FOR A TIME, AND TOM COLLINS SECONDS HIM.

Ah-wow sat on the stump of an oak-tree, looking, to use a familiar, though incorrect expression, very blue indeed. And no wonder, for Ah-wow was going to be hanged. Perhaps, courteous reader, you think we are joking, but we assure you we are not. Ah-wow had just been found guilty, or pronounced guilty--which, at the diggings, meant the same thing--of stealing two thousand dollars' worth of gold-dust, and was about to expiate his crime on the branch of a tree.

There could be no doubt of his guilt; so said the enlightened jury who tried him; so said the half-tipsy judge who condemned him; and so said the amiable populace which had assembled to witness his execution. It cannot be denied that appearances went very much against Ah-wow--so much so, that Maxton, and even Captain Bunting, entertained suspicions as to his innocence, though they pleaded hard for his pardon. The gold had been discovered hid near the Chinaman's tent, and the bag containing it was recognised and sworn to by at least a dozen of the diggers as that belonging to the man from whom the gold had been