The Cave of Gold<br />A Tale of California in '49 by Everett McNeil (chapter books to read to 5 year olds .TXT) 📗
- Author: Everett McNeil
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"Well, I should not be surprised if we had that pleasure before long," and Bud's face hardened. "If the old miner told them of the Cave of Gold and the skin map, and he said he did, they sure will be on the lookout for the party with the map; and it wouldn't take much inquiring for them to find out that it was us that brought the dead miner home; and then, I reckon, it won't take them two minutes to guess what started us so sudden-like for the mines. I sure hope they won't find us until we get to our dads and Rex and Dill and Hammer Jones. I'd feel safe enough then. You see, we are guarding not only our lives, but also the Cave of Gold; and the finding of that cave means a lot to all of us."
"It sure does," Thure agreed. "Luck has been against both of our dads lately; and, well, we've just got to find that Cave of Gold; and we are going to find it, in spite of all the broken noses and pockmarked faces in the world. But, it won't do to sit here talking all night. We must get all the sleep we can. Who will stand guard first?"
"I will," Bud answered, picking up his rifle and rising; "so get into your blanket and asleep as quick as you can. It must be almost midnight now."
"All right," and Thure began rolling himself up in his blanket. "Wake me in about two hours, and I'll stand guard the rest of the night. We want to be on our way as soon as it is light enough to see. Good night," and in five minutes Thure was as dead to his surroundings as the log near which he lay.
Bud picked up his blanket and moved off into the dark shadows of the low-hanging branches of an evergreen oak and out of the light of the camp-fire, where he could watch, seeing but unseen.
The night had grown dark and cool—all California nights are chilly; and Bud wrapped his blanket around him and, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, looked out into the darkness surrounding the lone camp-fire. In the distance a coyote was making the night hideous with his demoniacal howlings. From a near tree came the lonesome hoot of an owl. All else was still, save from all around came the mysterious sounds of the wilderness at night, suggestive of the low whisperings and talking of uneasy spirits.
But all this was commonplace to Bud. He had often spent the night out in the open, had often stood guard by a lonely camp-fire, when darkness was all around and only the weird voices of the night were heard; and he gave little thought to these things. He was very tired and very sleepy and it took about all the thought power he had to compel himself to stay awake.
An hour past. There had not been a suspicious sound nor movement; and Bud began to feel more secure, began to relax some of his vigilance, began to close his eyes now and then for a brief moment, began to lean more comfortably against the trunk of the tree—then, suddenly, he straightened himself up with a jerk, his eyes wide open, his cocked rifle held ready for instant use. Sure he had heard a sound, a sound that did not belong to the night, a thud like the fall of some heavy body on soft ground, and coming from the direction of the camp-fire! For a moment he stared, tense with excitement, toward the camp-fire, now glowing dully; but he saw nothing unusual, heard nothing unusual. Thure still lay by the side of the log, his form showing faintly in the dull light. The horses were grazing quietly—he could just distinguish their forms through the darkness. They showed no alarm.
"Queer! I certainly heard something fall; and right near! Well, I reckon I had better make sure that everything is all right with Thure," and Bud very cautiously stepped out from the shadows of the tree and, moving softly, crept up to where Thure lay. His deep regular breathing told him that he was sound asleep and that all was well with him.
"Must have been dreaming," he muttered in disgust, and returned to his station under the tree; but he did not close his eyes again.
There were no other suspicious sounds during the remainder of his watch, nor during the watch of Thure; and the dawning of morning found both boys and all their belongings safe and sound.
"Did you see or hear anything suspicious during your watch?" was Bud's first query, when Thure awoke him the next morning.
"No. Why?" answered Thure. "Did you?"
"Well, I—I don't know," and Bud jumped to his feet and began looking sharply around over the ground near the camp-fire.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation and, bending quickly down, picked up a large flat stone that was lying between the log, near which Thure had slept, and the camp-fire.
"I—I don't remember of seeing this stone here last night," and he turned it over curiously; and then uttered another exclamation that brought Thure to his side on the jump.
The stone was flat, some three inches thick, nearly round, and, possibly, a foot in diameter. One side was nearly white and smooth; and the astonished eyes of the boys read, rudely written on this side, evidently with a piece of charred coal, these ominous words:
LEVE THE MAP TO THE MINERS CAVE UNDER THIS STON NEAR YOUR CAMP FIRE WHEN YOU BRAKE CAMP IN THE MORNING AND NEVER TELL NOBODY WHAT THE MINER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE CAVE—OR WELL GIT YOU THE SAME AS WE GOT THE MINER—LIFE IS WURTH MOREN GOLD AND YOULL NEVER LIVE TO GIT THE GOLD.
Under these words were the red prints of two thumbs—one the mark of a huge thumb and the other the mark of a much smaller thumb—as if their owners had covered their thumbs with blood and then pressed them against the stone, in lieu of signatures.
For a full two minutes the two boys stood staring at these words, their faces whitening and their eyes widening.
"How—how did this get here?" Thure was the first to speak.
For answer Bud leaped to the log, by the side of which Thure had slept, and, bending over it, looked closely at the ground on the other side.
"Right from behind this log!" he exclaimed, after a moment's scrutiny of the ground. "The fellow that threw that stone crept up behind this log and then got up on his knees and tossed the rock to where we found it. You can still see the prints of his knees and toes in the ground. I thought I heard a sound like the fall of something heavy during my watch; but I was half asleep when I heard it," and Bud's face flushed a little; "and when I couldn't see anything suspicious or find anything suspicious or hear any more suspicious sounds, I concluded I had only fancied I had heard the sound. But that is sure no fancy," and his eyes glared at the stone, which Thure still held.
"And I was sound asleep right on the other side of that log at that very moment!" and Thure's weather-bronzed face whitened a little. "No more logs for bedfellows for me!"
"Yes, and he must have been lying right on the other side of that log, when I bent over you to see if you were all right," added Bud. "If I'd been only smart enough to look, it might have saved us from a lot of trouble," and Bud's lips tightened grimly.
"Better as it is," Thure declared. "Now, we've had our warning and nobody hurt; but, if you had discovered the fellow behind the log, they'd have got you, sure, and, probably, me, too. Both were doubtless on hand; and would have shot you before you could have done anything, if you had discovered one of them. Now, I reckon, if they had found the camp unguarded, they were intending to have a try for the map then and there—and they would have got it! Well, what do you think about doing as they ask, and leaving the map under the stone? It seems from what that stone says—"
"What!" and Bud turned in astonishment to Thure. "Give up that map to a couple of the biggest cowards and cut-throats in California? I'd sooner give them every drop of blood in my body. I—"
"Well, you need not get so rambunctuous over it," laughed Thure. "But," and his face sobered, "I reckon that that there is no idle threat," and he pointed to the flat stone, which now lay on the ground at his feet; "and I fancy the sooner we get to our dads the better it will be for us. Not that I'd be afraid of those two skunks," he added hastily, "if they'd come out in the open, where one could see them; but I do not care for any more creeping upon a fellow in the dark, when he's asleep," and he glanced shudderingly toward the log. "But, there is no use of talking any more about it. Let's get busy. We must make Sacramento City to-night sure."
In a very short time breakfast was eaten, the horses saddled and bridled and packed, and the two boys ready to mount and to start on their way again.
"Now, for our answer to that there message," and Thure picked up the flat stone and dropped it into the camp-fire. "I reckon that will tell them what we think of their threat; and that we're too old to be scart like little school boys," and he sprang on the back of his horse. "Now for Sacramento City!" and the two boys, with watchful eyes glancing all around them, resumed their lonely journey toward the new city on the Sacramento.
CHAPTER VII CAUGHT IN THE FLOODIn July, 1849, the tide of gold-seekers had not yet set in at its greatest flow. It was too early in the year for the thousands of emigrants coming across the plains and the mountains to the east or for those journeying by ship from the more distant parts of the world to have reached the Eldorado of their golden hopes; but from every inhabited part of California and the region to the north, from Mexico and the Pacific coast southward and from the nearer islands of the Pacific a constant stream of gold-seekers had been flowing into the gold regions for nearly a year. Those coming by ship landed at San Francisco; and from there reëmbarked in smaller boats and were carried up the Sacramento River to Sacramento City, the nearest point to the mines reached by boat, or made the journey overland on horseback, or with mule- or horse- or oxen-drawn wagons, or even on foot. Many of the Mexicans and a few of the South Americans came overland, while nearly all of those coming from Oregon territory, whither many emigrants had gone from the States during the past few years, made the journey southward to Sacramento City the same way they had crossed the great plains and the mountains, when they had sought new homes in the Great Northwest a few years before—that is, by way of the prairie-schooner, afoot and on horseback, traveling in small companies for mutual protection.
All of these different streams of inflowing gold-seekers were too far south for Thure and Bud to strike until they were nearly to Sacramento City, except that from Oregon, flowing from the north; and they hardly expected to find this stream still flowing, since those regions were supposed to have been already drained of all their gold-seeking inhabitants. But, hardly had they ridden an hour on their way that morning, when, on coming to the top of a low ridge of hills and looking down into the valley beyond, they saw half a dozen white-topped wagons, accompanied by a number of men, some on horseback and some afoot, a couple of miles ahead of them and about to pass over another ridge of hills.
"Hurrah!" yelled Thure, at sight of the wagons and the men. "I'll bet a coon skin that they are bound for Sacramento City and the gold-diggings, too. Come, let's hurry up our horses and see if we can't overtake them. I'll feel a lot safer when we're in with that crowd," and his keen eyes glanced swiftly over the valley in front of them. "There are too many places along this trail, where them skunks could hide and shoot us without our getting a shot back at them, to suit me. But they will hardly venture to take a shot at us, while we are with a crowd of armed men like that. Hurrah! Come
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