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diff --git a/37943-0.txt b/37943-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6494ce2 --- /dev/null +++ b/37943-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8135 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37943 *** + + + + + THE GREAT PIKE'S PEAK RUSH + + OR + + TERRY IN THE NEW GOLD FIELDS + + BY EDWIN L. SABIN + + + "These mountains are supposed to contain minerals, precious stones + and gold and silver ore. It is but late that they have taken the + name Rocky Mountains; by all the old travelers they are called the + Shining Mountains, from an infinite number of crystal stones of an + amazing size, with which they are covered, and which, when the sun + shines full upon them, sparkle so as to be seen at a great + distance." + + --_From a Geography One Hundred Years Ago._ + + + NEW YORK + THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + COPYRIGHT, 1917, + BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY. + + + + +[Illustration: "NONE OF THAT, MR. IKE CHUBBERS!" REPEATED HARRY, STOUTLY +FORCING THE MUZZLE UPWARD] + + + + +TRAIL AND DIGGIN'S PEOPLE + + +OLD ACQUAINTANCES: + + TERRY RICHARDS Off to the Gold Fields + MR. AND MRS. RICHARDS His Parents + HARRY REVERE His Partner + GEORGE STANTON A Tender-foot + VIRGIE STANTON Also a Tender-foot + MR. AND MRS. STANTON Their Parents + SOL JUDY A "Forty-niner" + PINE KNOT IKE Not so Tough After All + THUNDER HORSE Bad Medicine + SHEP Ready for Anything + DUKE THE HALF-BUFFALO} Queer Wagon Mates + JENNY THE YELLOW MULE} + + +NEW ACQUAINTANCES: + + THE SICK BOY Who Shows His Gratitude + PAT CASEY With a Taste for Pie + LITTLE RAVEN White Man's Friend + LEFT HAND Official Interpreter + HORACE GREELEY New York Tribune Editor + JOURNALIST RICHARDSON Boston Journal Reporter + JOURNALIST VILLARD The Cincinnati Reporter + GREEN RUSSELL} The Original "Boomers" + JOHN GREGORY } + MCGREW THE WHEEL-BARROW MAN Who "Pushed" Across + + +And Certain Others of the Busy Folk That Thronged the Gulches and the +Young Denver City. + +PLACE AND TIME: The Pike's Peak Country of the Rocky Mountains, 1859. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. To the Mountains of Gold 1 + + II. The "Pike's Peak Limited" 15 + + III. Duke on a Rampage 29 + + IV. The Trail Grows Lonesome 39 + + V. Tough Luck for the Limited 53 + + VI. Just in Time 65 + + VII. Shep Does His Duty 75 + + VIII. The Trail Grows Lively 91 + + IX. Now Where Is the "Elephant"? 103 + + X. "Forward March" to Gregory Gulch 116 + + XI. "Rich at Last!" 126 + + XII. Panning the "Golden Prize" 138 + + XIII. Ready for Big Business, But * * * 147 + + XIV. Pat Casey Helps Out 161 + + XV. Horace Greeley Comes to Town 171 + + XVI. Two Tenderfeet Arrive 180 + + XVII. Another Call for Hustle 192 + + XVIII. Never Say Die! 201 + + XIX. To the Pound-a-Day 211 + + XX. Millions in Sight 224 + + XXI. Terry Makes a Deal 233 + + XXII. The "Virginia Consolidated" 241 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +DRAWINGS BY H. FISK. + + + PAGE + + "None of that, Mr. Ike Chubbers!" repeated Harry, + stoutly forcing the muzzle upward (frontis) + + "Terry flew to the cart ... flew back again with + the precious fluid" 65 + + "The giant sat down with an explosive grunt, and + Harry stood over, scarcely panting, revolver + dangling in hand" 167 + + "You dare to lay hand on this or interfere in any + way and I'll show you what a Californy Forty-niner + knows about protecting property" 245 + + + + +THE GREAT PIKE'S PEAK RUSH + + + + +CHAPTER I + +TO THE MOUNTAINS OF GOLD + + +"Twenty-five thousand people--and more on the way! Think of that!" +exclaimed Mr. Richards, Terry's father. + +It was an evening in early April, 1859, and spring had come to the +Richards ranch, up the Valley of the Big Blue, Kansas Territory. +Excitement had come, too, for Harry (Harry Revere, that is, the clever, +boyish Virginia school-teacher who was a regular member of the family) +had been down to the town of Manhattan, south on the Kansas River and +the emigrant trail there, and had brought back some Kansas City and St. +Louis papers. They were brimming with the news of a tremendous throng of +gold-seekers swarming to cross the plains for the new gold fields, +discovered only last year, in the Pike's Peak country of the Rocky +Mountains. + +"Do you suppose it's true, Ralph? So many?" appealed Mrs. Richards, +doubting. + +"Whew!" gasped Terry--the third man in the family. At least, he worked +as hard as any man. + +"I believe it," asserted Harry. "Manhattan's jammed and the trail in +both directions is a sight!" + +"So are Kansas City and Leavenworth, according to the dispatches," +laughed Terry's father. "People from the east are flocking across Iowa, +to the Missouri River, and the steamboats up from St. Louis are loaded +to the guards--everybody bound for the Pike's Peak country and the +Cherry Creek diggin's there. It beats the California rush of Forty-nine +and Fifty." + +"But twenty-five thousand, Ralph!" Mother Richards protested. + +"Yes, and the papers say there'll be a hundred thousand before summer's +over." + +"Oh, Pa! Can't we go?" pleaded Terry. + +"And quit the ranch?" + +"But if we don't go now all the gold will be found." + +"I think it would be sinful to leave this good ranch and go clear out +there, with nothing certain," voiced his mother, anxiously. "You know it +almost killed your father. He'd never have got home, if it hadn't been +for you." + +"That was when he was coming back, and we wouldn't need to come back," +argued Terry. "And he fetched some gold, too, didn't he?" + +"And hasn't recovered yet!" triumphed Mother Richards. "He couldn't +possibly stand another long overland trip--and I don't want to stand it, +either. Why, we're just nicely settled, all together again, on our own +farm." + +"Well, some of us ought to go," persisted Terry. "I'd a heap rather dig +gold than plant it.' + +"I notice you aren't extra fond of digging potatoes, though," slily +remarked Harry. "You say it makes your back ache!" + +"Digging gold's different," retorted Terry. "Besides, we've a gold mine +already, haven't we? The one dad discovered. If we don't get there soon +somebody else will dig everything out of it and we'll have only a hole." + +"That will be a cellar for us, anyway, to put a house over," mused +Harry, who always saw opportunities. + +"I don't lay much store on that claim of mine," confessed Terry's +father. "The country'll be over-run, and if the spot was worth anything +it's probably jumped, or will be jumped very quickly. And I don't +remember where it is." + +"But what a rush!" faltered Mrs. Richards, glancing through the paper. +"The news does say twenty-five thousand people about to cross the plains +and more coming. I do declare! I'm sure some of them will suffer +dreadfully." + +"Yes; they'll earn their way, all right," agreed Father Richards. "It's +a tough region, yonder at the mountains--and the more people, the +tighter the living, till they raise other crops than gold." + +"Then that's the reason why we ought to be starting--so as to get in +ahead," persisted Terry. "This ranching's awful slow, and it's toler'ble +hard work, too. Putting stuff in and taking it out again." + +"You can't expect to 'take stuff out' unless you do put some in, first, +can you?" demanded his father. "That's the law of life. But if you think +you can dodge hard work, go on and try." + +"Where?" blurted Terry. + +"Anywhere. To the Pike's Peak country. You have my permission." And his +father's blue eyes twinkled. + +"Oh, Ralph!" protested Terry's mother, aghast. "Don't joke about it." + +"Aw, I can't go alone," stammered Terry, taken aback. + +"I'm not joking," asserted Father Richards. "But he'll have to find his +own outfit, like other gold-seekers. Then he can go, and we'll follow +when we can." + +Mother Richards dropped the paper. + +"Ralph! Have you the fever again? Oh, dear!" + +Gold-fever she meant, of course. Father Richards smiled, and rubbed his +hair where it showed a white streak over the wound received when on +their road out from the Missouri River, a year ago, to settle on the +ranch, he had been knocked off his horse in fording Wildcat Creek, and +had disappeared for months. Only by great good fortune had Terry found +him, wandering in, through a blizzard, from the Pike's Peak gold fields; +and had brought him home in time for a merry Christmas. + +"Not 'again.' Don't know as I'd call it gold-fever, exactly. But I feel +a bit like Terry does--I want to join the crowd. It was the same way, in +coming to Kansas. We thought this was to be the West; and now there's +another West. This ranch can be made to pay--I'm certain it can if we're +able to hold on long enough and weather the droughts and grasshoppers +and low prices. But----" + +"Harry and Terry and I made it pay," reminded Mother Richards, with a +flash of pride. + +"Yes, you all did bravely. But you managed it by cutting and selling the +timber. The timber won't last forever, and the grasshoppers may! This is +rather a lonely life, for you, yet, up in here. Out at the mountains, +though, they've founded those two towns, Denver and Auraria, and +probably others; and I believe opportunities will be more there than +here." + +"Do you intend to sell the ranch?" asked Mrs. Richards, a little pale. +She loved the ranch, which she had helped to make. + +"We'll talk that over. I wouldn't sell unless you consented. It's your +place; you and Terry and Harry've done most of the work." + +"But you said I could go right away, Pa; didn't you?" enthused Terry. +"Then I'll take the wagon and Buck and Spot, and Shep--and Harry; +and----" + +"Hold on," bade his father. "Not quite so fast. I said you're to find +your own outfit. If we sell the ranch, you'll have to leave part of it +as a sample to show to customers. Those oxen are valuable. Oxen'll be as +good as gold, in this country. The rush across the plains will sweep up +every kind of work critter. If you take Buck and Spot, how'll anybody on +this ranch do the ploughing? And if you take the wagon, what'll become +of the hauling?" + +"And if you take Harry, who'll help your father and me?" chimed in his +mother. + +"Shucks!" bemoaned Terry. "There's the old mare, and the colt--and a +cow--and----" + +"And a half-buffalo, and a tame turkey, and a yellow mule twenty years +of age if she's a day," completed his father. "Buck and Spot beat the +lot of them put together. No, sir; I'll not spare those oxen, for any +wild-goose chase across to the mountains. But I'll tell you what you can +do. You can have Harry, and find the rest of your come-along." + +"Hum!" murmured Harry, who had been scratching his nose and looking +wise. "That sounds like a dare. Let's go outside, Terry." + +He rose. Terry wonderingly followed him. Within, Mother Richards gazed +dubiously upon Father Richards. + +"Are you really in earnest, Ralph?" + +"Yes; after a fashion. Terry can't make such a trip alone; he's too +young; but he'd be safe with Harry. Enough cultivating's done on the +ranch so I can manage for the next few months. That would give you and +me a chance to dispose of the place when we were ready--and it will sell +better with the crops showing. And besides, I agree with you that I'm +not quite in shape yet to stand the trip. By the time we were free to +go, those two boys would have the country yonder pretty well spied out, +and they'd send us back reliable information. Harry has a level head." + +"And maybe they'd be so disappointed they'd want to come back, +themselves!" hopefully asserted Mrs. Richards. "Terry'd be cured of his +gold-seeking fever. Anyway, they haven't gone, yet. They can't have the +oxen, and they can't have my cow, and if they took the old mare how'd I +ever visit my neighbors, and if they took the colt he's not heavy enough +for hard work, and the yellow mule won't pull alone, and Duke won't pull +at all, and you've refused them the wagon--and I sha'n't let them walk. +So I don't believe I'll worry." + +"Um--m!" muttered Father Richards, rubbing his hair. "I won't be +positive about all that. What Terry doesn't cook up, Harry will. They're +both of them too uncommon smart. I reckon they're into some scheme +already." + +And so they were. He resumed his reading of the papers. Mrs. Richards +proceeded to finish the evening housework. Suddenly they were +interrupted. Outside welled a frantic chorus of shouting and cheering +and barking and clattering. + +"For goodness' sake!" ejaculated Mrs. Richards; and they sprang to the +door. + +Harry, who walked with a slight limp because when a boy down in Virginia +he had hurt his foot, had beckoned Terry on, around the hen-house, out +of ear-shot of the cabin. Here he had paused, and scratched his long +nose again--a sure sign of mischief. Slender and smooth-faced and young +was Harry, but stronger than anybody'd think. The way he could ride +bareback, and could fell timber--whew! And that long head of his was a +mine in itself. + +"Shall we go?" he queried. + +"Will you, Harry? Do you want to go?" + +"Yes, I reckon I do. I always knew I was cut out for a miner instead of +a schoolmaster or a farmer." + +"How'll we go, then?" demanded Terry. "Thunder! We've nothing to start +with, 'cept our feet. Dad says we'll have to find our own outfit." + +"And one of the feet's a bad one," commented Harry. "I suppose we +_could_ walk, and carry our stuff--or carry part of it and come back for +the rest." + +"Five hundred miles?" cried Terry. "Aw, jiminy! We'd be the last in, if +we tried to carry stuff on our backs." + +"And we'd be the first out, if we didn't carry stuff," returned Harry. +"We'd be frozen out and starved out, both. Now, let's see." He scratched +his nose, and was solemn--save that his pointed chin twitched, and his +wide brown eyes laughed. "We can't have the oxen; and we mustn't take +the old mare or the colt, because they're a part of the ranch; or the +brindled cow, because she belongs to Mother Richards' butter and milk +department; or Pete the turkey, because he can't swim; so that leaves us +Jenny and Duke." + +"That old yellow mule, and a half-buffalo!" yapped Terry. "But they're a +part of the ranch stock, too, and besides----" + +"No, they're ours," corrected Harry. "Jenny's mine, and I'm hers. I +brought her in here--or, rather, she brought me in; in fact, we brought +each other. And Duke is yours. You rescued him from a life among the +wild buffalo--a rough, low life, the ungrateful brute!--and his mother's +disowned him since he learned to eat grass and hay, and nobody else +wants him. Jenny works for her keep, but he doesn't do a thing except +bawl and eat and sleep and pick quarrels with his betters. He's only an +idle good-for-nothing." + +"What do you aim to do, then?" questioned Terry, staring open-mouthed. +"Ride 'em? We can't have the wagon. You going to ride Jenny and make me +ride Duke? We'd both of us be split in two! I'd rather walk. I'd make +great time, wouldn't I, on that buffalo--and Jenny mostly moves up and +down in one spot! Your saddle's falling to pieces. It's just tied with +rope." + +"Hum!" mused Harry. "We'll hitch them." + +"What to?" + +"A wagon. I know where there are two wheels and an axle." + +"Where?" + +"In an old mud-hole. The front end traveled on, but the hind end +stayed." + +"Jenny won't pull single, and Duke won't pull at all." + +"Make 'em pull together, then." + +"What'll we do for the rest of the wagon?" + +"Make it." + +"Huh!" reflected Terry, trying to be convinced. "That'll be a great +outfit. Where'll we get our supplies?" + +"Maybe somebody'll grub-stake us, on shares. But no matter about that. +We'll learn not to eat when we haven't anything to eat. If," continued +Harry, "a couple of fellows our size, with a yellow mule and a +half-buffalo and two wagon-wheels, can't get through to the mountains, +I'd like to know who can! So it's high time we started. Come on." + +"What are you going to do first?" demanded Terry, bewildered by Harry's +sudden movement. + +"Educate Duke, of course. We'll put him and Jenny to the drag and give +them their first lesson. You be driving Duke in and I'll talk with +Jenny." + +Away hustled Harry, at his rapid limp, for a halter and Jenny, where in +a stall she was munching a feed of hay as reward after her trip to town. +With the interested Shep (shaggy black dog) at his heels, prepared to +help, Terry hastened into the pasture and rounded up Duke, the +half-buffalo, from amidst the other animals. Duke was now a +yearling--grown to be a sturdy, stocky youngster since Terry had +captured him and his brindled cow mother during the buffalo hunt with +the Delaware Indians last summer. + +Knowing Terry well, and tamed to everything except work, Duke submitted +to being driven out. In the ranch yard Harry was waiting with big, gaunt +Jenny, already attached by collar and traces to the drag. The drag was +only an old rail, heavy and spike-studded, used to uproot the brush when +the ranch land was cleared. + +It required considerable maneuvering to fit an ox-bow around Duke's +short neck, and yoke him to the drag. He seemed dumbly astonished. Jenny +laid back her long ears in disgust with her strange mate. + +"Be patient with him, Jenny," pleaded Harry. "He's only a boy, and part +Indian, while you're a cultured lady. I think," he said, to Terry, "that +I'll do the driving, for the first spell on this Pike's Peak trail." +Holding the lines attached to Jenny's bit (but Duke, ox-fashion, had no +lines), he fell a few paces to rear. "No," he added, "that won't answer. +You drive Duke and I'll drive Jenny. Get your whip." + +Terry stationed himself with the ox-whip at Duke's flank. Harry stepped +upon the drag, and balanced. + +"Gid-dap, Jenny!" he bade. + +"G'lang, Duke!" bade Terry. + +Jenny, sidling as far as she could in the traces, her ears flat, +started. Duke stayed. Consequently, Jenny did not get very far. + +"Duke! G'lang, Duke!" implored Terry, desperately, cracking his whip. + +"Pull, Jenny! Pull!" encouraged Harry, balancing on the drag now askew. + +Up went Jenny's heels, down went Duke's head, away went Harry on the +drag and Terry on the run. Shep, thinking it great sport, barked gaily. + +"Whoa, Jenny! Whoa now!" + +"Haw, Duke! Whoa-haw! Gee! Whoa!" + +And from the cabin doorway Father Richards clapped and shouted, and +Mother Richards called warnings. + +Harry was speedily thrown from the bouncing drag, but he clung to the +lines. Having careered, plunging and tugging and side-stepping, until +she was astraddle of the outside trace, Jenny stopped. Duke, who had +been bawling and galloping, half hauled, half frightened, stopped +likewise, the yoke crooked on his neck; and all stood heaving. + +"This'll never do," panted Harry. "Jenny's too fast for him--either her +legs are too long or his are too short. We'll have to train them singly +and hitch them tandem. That's it: tandem." + +"You mean one in front of the other?" wheezed Terry. + +"Yes." + +"Which where, then?" + +"Oh, Jenny for the wheel team and Duke for the lead team, I think," +decided Harry. "By rights, Jenny ought to have the lead, because she's +faster; and Duke ought to have the pole, because he's heavier. But Jenny +is quick-tempered with her heels, you know, and Duke is quick-tempered +with his head, so we'd best keep their tempers separated. We can teach +Duke to 'haw' and 'gee,' but Jenny's main accomplishment is simply to +'haw-haw.'" + +"Here comes George," announced Terry. "Now he'll 'haw-haw,' too." + +Through the gloaming another boy was loping in, on a spotted pony. He +was a wiry, black-eyed boy--George Stanton, from the Stanton ranch some +two miles down the valley. + +"Whoop-ee! Which way you going?" he challenged. "What is it--a show?" + +"Going to Pike's Peak," retorted Terry. + +"Tonight? With that team? Aw----!" + +"Pretty soon, though. We're practising." + +"Watch us, and you'll see us drive to the corral," invited Harry. "Let's +turn 'em around, Terry. Easy, now. I'll hold Jenny back and you hurry +Duke." + +"I'll help," proffered the obliging George. "Gwan, Duke." + +"Duke! Gwan!" ordered Terry. + +"Whoa, Jenny! Steady, Jenny!" cautioned Harry. + +With Harry hauling on the lines, George, pony-back, pressing against +Duke's shoulder, and Terry urging him at the flank, they all managed to +achieve a half circle. Duke, his eyes bulging with rage and alarm, +occasionally balked; Jenny flattened her ears and shook her scarred +head; but finally the corral bars were really reached. It seemed like +quite a victory. + +"First lesson ended," decreed Harry. "Too dark, and we're tired if they +aren't. We'll put 'em in together and they can talk it over." + +Released into the corral, neither Jenny nor Duke appeared to be in very +good humor. Duke rumbled and pawed, flinging the dirt; Jenny laid her +ears and bared her teeth. Suddenly Duke charged; whereat Jenny nimbly +whirled, and met him with both hind hoofs. Aside staggered Duke, to +stand a moment, glaring at her and rumbling; then he turned and stalked +stiffly to the other end of the enclosure. Jenny "hee-hawed" shrill and +derisive, and kneeling down, rolled and kicked; scrambled up, shook +herself, and began to nose about for husks. + +"Now they understand each other," remarked Harry. "They've agreed to +pull singly." + +"Say--are you fellows really going to Pike's Peak?" asked George. "With +that team?" + +"Yes, sir-ee. We're in training, aren't we, Terry?" responded Harry. + +"That's right. Dad said if we'd find our own outfit we could strike +out." + +"We've got the fever, too, sort of, down at our house," confessed +George. "That's what I rode up about. Now I guess I'd better go back and +tell the folks. Maybe I can join you," he added, waxing excited. + +"The more the merrier. That will make twenty-five thousand and three," +laughed Harry. + +"If I can't, I'll be coming later," called back George. + +"We'll locate a claim for you," promised Terry, grandly--as if he and +Harry were already on the way. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE "PIKE'S PEAK LIMITED" + + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," spoke Terry's father, finally. "I'll lend +you $100--'grub-stake' you, as they say, from the dust that I fetched +back last winter. That's half. And I'm to have half interest in whatever +you find." + +"Hum! This sounds like a good business proposition, if you mean it," +accepted Harry, scratching his nose. + +"Do you mean it, Dad?" cried Terry, overjoyed. "Supposing we find your +mine. Do we get half of that?" + +"That's part yours, anyway. But I don't think you'll find it unoccupied. +Doubt if you find it at all. You'll likely meet up with some of the +Russell brothers out there, though. You might ask Green Russell or +Oliver or the doctor if they have any recollection of my being along +with 'em, one of their Fifty-eighters, by name of Jones, and if they +remember where I got the dust. Yes, I mean it: you and Harry'll need +supplies, and you ought to have a little cash in hand besides." + +"But we can go to digging gold, the first day we get there, can't we?" +argued Terry. + +"You might be a bit awkward and break a pick or shovel, and want a new +one," remarked his father, drily. + +Anyway, the $100 was not to be sneezed at. To be sure, Harry, with Terry +assisting, had proceeded right ahead making ready. He was a wonder, was +Harry. He had brought the two wagon-wheels from the mud-hole, and (Terry +helping) had constructed a two-wheeled cart: had fitted a shallow body +on the axle-tree and attached a pair of long heavy shafts. Jenny was to +haul in the shafts, and the chains of Duke were to be run back to stout +eye-bolts. + +"You see," reasoned Harry, "some days when Jenny is tired and wishes to +stop, Duke will be pulling the cart and she'll have to come along +whether or no." + +Jenny's collar and Duke's wooden bow and single yoke (manufactured to +suit the case, from cast-off materials) were rough and ready, but no +worse than the rest of the harness. However, on the whole Harry was +rather proud of his work, and Terry was rather proud of Harry. Just now +they were engaged in stretching a canvas hood over the cart. + +As for Jenny, the yellow mule, and Duke, the half-buffalo--their days, +of late, had been exciting ones. While they were being trained to haul +tandem the ranch yard had resembled a circus-ring, much to the alarm of +Terry's mother, and to the entertainment of Terry's father and the +Stantons. + +George and Virgie (who was his little sister) came up, whenever they +could, to watch the preparation; and Mr. Stanton was considerably +interested, himself. But George was more than interested; he was +roundly sceptical--also, as anybody might see, envious. + +"Aw, you don't think you're ever going to get there with that +contraption, do you?" he challenged. "A rickety old cart, and an old +mule and a half-buffalo! You'll bust down." + +"I'd rather bust down than bust up," retorted Terry. + +"It'll take you a year. Look at how your wheels wobble." And George +added, somewhat oddly: "Wish I was going." + +"If it'll take us a year, you might as well wait and come on with your +own folks later," reminded Harry. "You'll probably travel in style, and +pass us." + +"That's right," hopefully answered George. "We'll pass you during the +summer. You see if we don't." + +"Said the hare to the tortoise," gibed Harry. "Terry and Jenny and Duke +and I may be slow, but we're powerful sure--if our wheels keep turning." + +He picked up a tar-pot and a stick, and stepped to the cart, on which +the hood at last had been stretched. + +"What you going to do now?" + +"Don't hurry me," drawled Harry. "This isn't a hurry outfit." On the +canvas he drew a letter. "What's that, Virgie?" + +"'P'!" + +"Right. And what's this?" + +"'I'!" + +"You're a smart girl--a smarter girl than your brother," praised Harry. +"Next?" + +"'K'!" + +"Next?" + +"'E'!" + +"Next?" + +"A--comma!" declared Virgie. + +"Oh, pshaw!" deplored Harry. "You go to the foot." And he finished the +word: "PIKE'S." He stepped back to admire the result. + +"Pike's Peak or Bust! That's what you ought to put on," yelped George. +"Pike's Peak or Bust! There was a wagon went down the valley yesterday +with that on it. And it had four wheels instead of two." + +"'Pike's Peak and No Bust,' is our motto," corrected Harry. He daubed +rapidly, until the words stood: "PIKE'S PEAK LIMITED." + +"I guess you're 'limited,'" sniggered George. "Anyway," he confessed, +loyally, "wish I was going with you. I'll trade you my pistol for a +share in your mine if you find one." + +"That old pistol with a wooden hammer?" scoffed Terry. "You come on out +and we'll give you a whole mine, maybe, if we have more than we can +work!" + +"I'll cook for you," piped Virgie. + +"All right, Virgie," quoth Harry. "George can shoot buffalo with his +pistol, and you can cook all he gets! You be ready tomorrow early, and +we'll take you aboard on our way down." + +"Do you start tomorrow?" blurted George. + +"Sure thing," asserted Terry. "Stop at Manhattan, is all, to get +supplies. Then we hit the trail for the land of gold." + +The painting of "PIKE'S PEAK LIMITED" had indeed been the final touch. +The start was set for the next morning immediately after breakfast. +That evening in the cabin they all tried to be merry and hopeful, but +Terry went to bed in the loft, where he and Harry slept, with a lump in +his throat after his mother's goodnight hug and kiss; and although he +dreamed exciting dreams of a marvelously quick trip and a row of +mountains blotched with precious yellow, he awakened to the same curious +lump. + +But Harry hustled about briskly, before breakfast, to feed and water +Jenny and Duke. Harry was always the first out. + + "Gold, gold, gold, gold! + Bright and yellow, hard and cold," + +he declaimed. "Eh, Jenny? Or should I say: + + "Jenny, Jenny! All pure gold! + Bright and yellow and hard to hold!" + +So Terry aided by carrying the stuff out, to be stowed in the cart. +After breakfast there was no delay. Presently Jenny and Duke stood +harnessed tandem, and rather wondering at the decisive manner with which +they were handled. They little knew that six hundred miles lay before +them. + +"All aboard for Pike's Peak!" announced Harry. "You're to walk behind, +Terry, for a piece, and pick up the wheels if they drop off. I'll +encourage Duke and Jenny not to look back. Good-bye, folks." + +"Good-bye, Mother. Good-bye, Father," repeated Terry. "Come on, Shep. +You're going. Of course!" + +Shep gamboled and barked. He was going and he did not care where, if +only he went. + +"We'll follow, in a month or two--as soon as we sell the place," called +Father Richards. "We and the Stantons, too, I guess. Get posted on the +country, and be careful. Good luck. Look up the Russells." + +"Yes, be very careful," enjoined Mother Richards. "Don't get lost, and +don't sleep in wet clothes, and don't fail to send word back often, and, +Terry, don't disobey Harry, and, Harry, don't you try to perform all the +work, and, both of you, don't have any disputes or quarrel with +_any_body, and don't omit to eat hearty meals----" + +"Oh, Mother Richards!" laughed Harry. "This is a _Do_ concern, not a +_Don't_. But we'll remember. You'll find us ready to trade you our gold +dust for a pan of good corn-bread. Good-bye. Gee-up, Duke! Step ahead, +Jenny! Whoop-ee! G'lang!" + +"Whoop-ee!" cheered Terry, stanchly, as now he trudged in the wake of +the creaking, lurching cart. "Hooray for the Pike's Peak Limited to the +gold mines!" + +They were on their way; they were real gold-seekers, bound for the +Pike's Peak country. In his cow-hide boots and red flannel shirt and +slouch hat, Terry felt that no one should make fun of their +rough-and-ready outfit. A half-buffalo, and a yellow mule, and a +two-wheeled cart with a regular prairie-schooner hood, and a tar-pot +hanging to the axle, indicated serious purpose. + +Black Shep loped happily from side to side, hunting through the weeds. +At the "near" or left of Jenny strode Harry, with a slight limp, a +willow pole in his hand to serve for occasionally touching up Duke. +Harry also wore cow-hide boots, trousers tucked in, and a battered +slouch hat, but a gray shirt instead of blue or red. However, a red +'kerchief for a tie gave him a natty appearance. + +"Duke! Hi! Step along!" he urged. And--"Not so fast, Jenny!" he +cautioned. Duke pulled steadily, keeping the chains fairly tight; Jenny, +her ears wobbling, but now and then laid back in protest at one thing or +another, slothfully dragged her long legs. Together they easily twitched +the lightly laden cart over the rutted road. + +George and Virgie were waiting in front of the Stanton ranch, to see the +gold-seekers pass. Mrs. Stanton waved from the ranch-house door, and Mr. +Stanton from the potato field. + +"Where are your guns?" demanded George, first crack, much as if he had +expected to see them heavily armed on this peaceful trail down to +Manhattan. + +"Got a shot-gun in the cart," answered Terry. + +"How'll you fight Injuns, then? Where are your mining tools--picks and +spades and things?" + +"Get 'em later." + +"Coming, Virgie?" hailed Harry. + +Her finger in her mouth, Virgie shook her head in its pink sunbonnet. + +"I can't. My mother needs me." + +"All right. Sorry. We need a cook. Duke! What are you stopping for? +Gwan! Hump along, Jenny!" And to creak of top and jangle of fry-pan and +tin plates and cups, and water bucket clashing with tar pot, the Pike's +Peak Limited pressed on. + +"We'll see you later, though," promised George, gazing after wistfully. +"Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, George." + +All down the valley people called and waved good-bye, for the word that +the "Richards boys" were going to Pike's Peak had traveled ahead. And +many a joke was leveled at Duke and Jenny and the two-wheeled cart +bearing its Pike's Peak sign. But who cared? Everybody seemed bent upon +following as soon as possible; and as Harry remarked: "We're doing +instead of talking!" + +Manhattan town was a day and a half, at walking gait. + +"No ranch house for us tonight," quoth Harry. "We'll start right in +making our own camp. And we'll have to start in with a system, too. +First we'll noon, for an hour, to rest the animals--not to mention +ourselves. My feet are about one hundred and ten degrees hot, already. +And we'll make camp every evening at six o'clock. If we don't travel by +system we'll wear out. There's nothing like regularity." + +So they nooned beside a creek; had lunch and let Duke and Jenny drink +and graze. That evening, promptly, they camped, near water. Harry had +elected to do the cooking and dish-washing, Terry was to forage for fuel +and tend to the animals. + +Jenny was staked out for fear that she would take the notion to amble +back to the ranch. Duke, who appeared to think much more of her than she +did of him, could be depended upon to stay wherever she stayed. Harry +boiled coffee, and fried bacon, and there was the batch of bread that +Mother Richards had baked for the first stages of the journey. + +When everything had been tidied up and the camp was ship-shape, in the +dusk they "bedded down," each to his coverings. Whew, but it felt good +to shed those hot boots! They also removed their trousers, and used them +and their coats for pillows. + +Harry sighed with luxury. + +"First camp--twelve miles from home," he said. + +"Wonder how many camps we'll make before we get there," proposed Terry. + +"Some forty, I reckon," murmured Harry. "Six hundred miles at an average +of fifteen miles a day--and there you are. But we have to make only one +camp at a time." + +"Hello!" cried a voice, through the dusk. + +Shep growled, where he was curled, but instantly flopped his tail, and +with a quick look in the direction of the voice, Harry called, gladly: + +"Hello yourself. Come in." + +"Hello, Sol," welcomed Terry. + +They sat up in their blankets. A horseman approached along the back +trail, and halted. He was a lean, well-built man, with long hair and +full beard, and sat erect upon a small but active horse. He wore a +peaked, silver-bound sombrero or Mexican hat, a black velvet Mexican +jacket half revealed under a gaily striped blanket over his shoulders, +tight black velvet trousers slashed with a white strip, and on his heels +jingling spurs. The saddle was enormous, and the bridle jingly and +silver-mounted. But he was no Mexican; he was Sol Judy, the American +horse-trader, who had been in California and on the plains, and was +counted as almost the very first friend made by Terry and his mother +when they had started in to "ranch it," a year ago, while waiting for +Mr. Richards to come home. And a very good friend Sol Judy had remained. + +"How's the Pike's Peak Limited by this time?" he queried, with a smile, +as he sat looking down. "On the way to the elephant, are you, and as +snug as a bug in a rug?" + +"'Light, 'light," bade Harry. "Have a cup of coffee, Sol. Wait till I +put on my pants." + +"No, no; thank you," declined Sol. "I've eaten and I'm going on +through." It seemed as though Sol was always bound somewhere else. "I +passed the ranch and stopped off a minute, and they told me you'd gone. +So I knew I'd probably catch you. I'm on my way, myself." + +"To the mines, Sol?" + +"Yes, sir-ee. Just got back; been in Leavenworth a short spell, and am +headed west again, for more of the elephant." + +"What elephant?" + +Sol laughed. + +"The big show. 'Seeing the elephant,' they call it, now, when they set +out for the Pike's Peak diggin's--because there are folks who don't +believe there is any such critter." + +"Did you see him, Sol?" + +"Well, you know we've seen a goose-quill or two containing a few +freckles from his hide." + +"What trail's the best?" queried Harry. + +"I went out by the Santy Fee Trail and came back by the Platte +government trail. But those are too long for you. I hear tell a lot of +people are going to try the trail straight west, up the Smoky Hill. If I +were you, though, I wouldn't tackle that. The water peters out. You'd do +better to cut northwest from Riley or Junction City, over the divide +between the Solomon and the Republican, and strike the Republican. Jones +and Russell, the Leavenworth freighters, are going to put on a line of +stages by that route, and they know what they're about. They've surveyed +a route already, and I shouldn't wonder if you'd find some of their +stakes. Anyway, the stages'll overtake you, and then you'll have their +tracks and stations. On the divide you'll keep to the high ground and +head the creeks and save a lot of trouble. Always travel high; that's my +notion. The fellows that try to follow the brush river-bottoms are the +ones who get stuck. You may have to make one or two dry marches, but you +can keep your water cask full." + +"What's doing out at the mines, Sol?" + +"Doing? There were about two hundred people there when I left. They'd +had a nice mild winter; only one cold snap at Christmas. They're all +collected at Cherry Creek; they've started two towns opposite each +other, near where the creek joins the Platte. The one on the west side +the creek they've called Auraria; the one on the east side was St. +Charles for a time, but now it's named Denver, after Governor Denver of +Kansas Territory. Auraria's the bigger, to date. What it'll be in a +month or two, can't tell. That's where they're all living, anyhow: in +Auraria and Denver. S'pose you've read in the papers that last fall they +held a meeting and set off the Pike's Peak country as 'Arapahoe County' +of Kansas, elected a delegate to the Kansas legislature, and another to +go to Washington and get the government to let 'em be organized as a new +separate Territory. He hasn't done much, though. Congress won't listen +to him. It's all too sudden. Proof of the elephant hadn't reached there +yet." + +"Are they digging lots of gold, Sol?" asked Terry, eagerly. + +"You could put all the gold I saw in two hands," declared Sol. "It's +mostly color, and flake gold washed from the creeks. They haven't got +down to real mining, and some of the people who counted on an easy time +at getting rich quick are plumb disgusted. What's been done since I left +I can't say. But the gold's in the mountains, and it'll take work to dig +it out." + +"How far are the mountains from the towns? How far's Pike's Peak, Sol?" +demanded Terry. + +"The real mountains are about forty miles, I judge; and that Pike's Peak +we're all hearing of is near a hundred. 'Cherry Creek' diggin's is a +heap better name for the place than 'Pike's Peak.' Pike's Peak is away +down south and there aren't any mines there, yet. Well, how's your +outfit behaving? Does the mule pull with the buffalo?" + +"First-rate," answered Harry. "They're used to each other." + +"That's good. Usually a mule's got no love for a buffalo. You want to +watch out when you get into the buffalo country or you'll have trouble, +sure, with one or the other of your critters. And I'd advise you to peg +along as fast as you can and keep ahead of the crowd or there won't be a +piece of fuel left as large as a match, to cook with." + +"Jiminy! That sounds like a rush," exclaimed Harry. "Then what the +papers say is true--about twenty-five thousand people." + +"Twenty-five thousand!" laughed Sol. "I've been at Leavenworth, and +Kansas City too, and every steamer from the south is loaded to the +stacks. You can't see the steamers for the people! Those two cities are +regular camps--streets jammed, merchants selling tons of supplies, +wagons and critters hardly to be bought for love or money, and the +country around white with wagons and tents of folks making +ready--waiting for a start. Same way up at Council Bluffs, where the +crossing is from Iowa into Nebraska to strike the Platte River Trail. In +a month the Platte Trail will be so thick you can walk clear from the +Missouri to the mountains on the tops of the prairie schooners. So you +do well to peg along early. The rush is begun." Sol reined up his horse, +preparing to leave. "Good luck to you, boys. I'll see you at the +mines." + +"We've got one waiting for us, maybe, you know, Sol," reminded Terry. +"And--" + +"All right," answered Harry. "We'll see you in the land of the elephant, +anyway. So long." + +And Sol galloped south, into the darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DUKE ON A RAMPAGE + + +Before noon of the next day Harry, in the advance guiding Jenny and +Duke, swung his hat and cheered. + +"Did you ever see the like!" he cried. "The rush has begun, all right." + +"I should say!" gasped Terry. + +They had arrived in sight of the town of Manhattan, just above the mouth +of the Big Blue, on the Kansas River emigrant trail from the east. The +prairie for half a mile around was alive with campers; the smoke from a +host of dinner fires drifted upon the clear air, and a great chorus +arose--shouts of men, cries of children, bawling of cows and oxen, +barking of dogs. + +"And this is only one trail from the Missouri," said Harry. "Hurrah! +Gwan, Duke, Jenny! Gwan!" + +As they proceeded down the valley road, for the town, presently they +struck the overflow of the encampment, and began to be greeted from +every side. Duke and Jenny apparently attracted much attention. + +"Whar you think you're goin', boys?" + +"Why don't you get astraddle an' ride?" + +"Is that a genuyine buff'lo?" + +"Who invented that rig?" + +"I'll trade you a cow for your mule, strangers." + +"When do you give your show?" + +And so forth, and so forth. Men laughed, women and children stared, dogs +barked, and Shep, bristling, took refuge under the cart. To all the +sallies Harry, and sometimes Terry, made good-natured reply, for this +was a good-natured crowd. + +Many wagons besides theirs bore signs. There were several with "Pike's +Peak or Bust," which evidently was popular. "To the Land of Gold" was +another favorite scrawl. One wagon announced: "Mind Your Own Business." +Another proclaimed: "From Pike County for Pike's Peak." And another: +"We're Going to See the Elephant--Are You?" + +As they entered the main road they turned in just ahead of a rickety +farm wagon with flimsy makeshift cotton hood, containing a strange +medley of children, women, household furniture, what-not. It was drawn +by a cow and a gaunt horse, a goat was led at the rear, a dusty, sallow +man trudged alongside. The wagon-hood said: "Noah's Ark." + +"How'll you swap outfits, strangers?" sung the man. + +"Nary swap," laughed Harry. + +"Whar you from?" + +"Up the Blue." + +"We're from Injianny," quavered one of the women, on the front seat. +"It's a powerful long way to the gold fields, isn't it?" + +"You've hardly started yet," replied Harry. "But just keep a-going." +And--"Whoa, Duke! Look out, there! Gee! Gee-up!" He thwacked Duke +smartly on the shoulder with the willow pole, and ran to his head. The +road before and behind was thronged with the travelers, and Duke, not +accustomed to so much confusion, had been waxing restive. He snorted, +his eyes bulged, his little tail jerked, and he made a side-ways jump at +an annoying dog. Out flew Shep, rolled the dog over and over until he +fled yelping, while with rapid commands Harry quieted Duke. Even Jenny +the yellow mule was showing symptoms of rebellion. + +"We'll never get into town, this way," panted Harry. "Let's drive around +and on to the river and unspan for noon. Then you watch Duke, and I'll +ride Jenny back in for supplies." + +So, picking their path, they began to circuit the little town. To do +this was considerable of an undertaking, for the tents and wagons and +people were scattered everywhere over the prairie, and Duke much +resented the shouts and laughter and smoke and barking dogs and the +incessant orders from Harry. His eyes bulged, he rumbled indignantly, he +shook his head, the froth dripped from his lips. + +On a sudden a mean little cur darted from one side and nipped him in his +heel--and this was the last straw. With a lunge and a kick away he +bolted, dragging the surprised Jenny until she also lost her temper, and +together they dragged the cart. + +Harry ran, shouting. Terry ran. Shep yapped excitedly. + +"Stampede!" + +"Look out for the buffalo!" + +"Hi! Hi!" + +"Head 'em off!" + +Women hastily clutched children, men waved their arms and hats. + +"Duke! Jenny! Whoa! Whoa!" vainly yelled Harry and Terry, following at +best speed in the wake of the lurching cart. + +Through among the camps galloped Duke and Jenny--Duke cavorting, Jenny +plunging, the cart bounding and skidding, the pails and cooking utensils +rattling, people scampering from the path; and Harry and Terry, in their +heavy boots, pursuing, wild with alarm. Something serious was likely to +result. + +There! A dinner group was shattered--away rolled the pot, and the fire +flew. There--down collapsed a tent, as the cart struck the guy-ropes! +Into a clearing burst the two animals--but straight for a wagon and ox +team facing them, beyond! The wagon had no hood, and its principal +occupants were a black-bearded, black-hatted, red-shirted man on the +seat and a large barrel in the box. + +Duke must have been seeing red, by this time. His head down, he charged +at the wagon, or oxen, or both. The man on the seat yelled; swung his +arm at Duke; swung his whip at his own team--tried to turn them; and +then, in a great panic, with a mighty leap landed asprawl and losing his +hat, legged for safety, his boot-tags flopping and his shaggy hair +tossing. + +"Ha, ha!" roared the spectators. And the man did indeed look funny. + +The yoke of oxen suddenly awakened to the danger, and sharply veered. +Duke just missed them, at an angle--he and Jenny both, but the cart +struck the rear of the wagon, tilted it, tilted the barrel, and there +stayed, locking wheels with it, while Duke and Jenny were brought to a +quick stand. + +Up raced Harry and Terry, to investigate damages. At the same time back +clumped the man, aglare with rage. + +"Oh, crickity!" gasped Terry. "It's Pine Knot Ike!" + +"Hyar!" he bellowed. He searched for his precious hat and clapped it on +his ragged locks. Now his hair and whiskers stood out all around his +face. "Hyar! I want to ask what you mean by rampagin' through a peaceful +collection o' citizens an' endangerin' the life an' property of a man in +pursuit of his lawful okkipation? I air mild, strangers; I kin stan' a +good deal, but now I air after blood. My name is Ike Chubbers, but most +people call me Pine Knot Ike, 'cause I air so plaguey hard to chaw. That +thar air your buffler, air it? Waal, I will now perceed to eat him." + +With that, Ike whipped a huge revolver from his belt--and instantly +Harry sprang like a cat for him--grabbed the arm--"None of that, Pine +Knot Ike!"--bang went the gun, and the bullet plinked somewhere, but not +into Duke. + +"None of that, Mr. Ike Chubbers!" repeated Harry, stoutly forcing the +muzzle upward. "You can't shoot any animal of ours. Besides, no damage +had been done." + +"Yes; you can't go shooting promiscuous through a camp like this, +friend," spoke somebody in the crowd that had gathered. "Those boys +aren't to blame for their stampede. Put your gun where it belongs." + +"Why didn't you stay with your wagon?" demanded somebody else. + +Pine Knot Ike slowly relaxed. Harry released his grip on the revolver, +and Ike glared around. His fierce black eyes came back to Harry, who +stood breathless but ready. + +"We have met before, stranger," he growled. "You air the schoolmaster +who nigh murdered me in this hyar very town. You know me, I reckon?" + +"I am the schoolmaster who made you dance, with your own revolver, after +you'd threatened to kill me if I didn't drink liquor for you," retorted +Harry. "Yes, I know you for a big bulldozer." + +And Terry well remembered the first encounter, last summer, between +Harry and Pine Knot Ike, when Harry not only had refused to drink but +had cleverly snatched Ike's gun and ordered him to dance as a penalty. +Yet Ike was as large in body as two Harry Reveres. + +"Haw, haw!" laughed the crowd. + +Ike glared around again. + +"I cherish no bad feelin's," he alleged. "I air a man o' peace. I air so +peaceful that I hain't bit a nail in two for nigh a full week. I mostly +drink milk." His breath did not _smell_ milky! "I air so peaceful that I +gener'ly lay down an' let folks walk on me. But I would ask if a +peaceful man pursuin' a lawful okkipation, on his way to build up a +civi-_li_-zation in them Rocky Mountings air to be run over by two boys +an' a wild buffler an' a yaller mule?" + +"Hey! Your whiskey's leakin'!" called a voice. + +And that was so. Pine Knot Ike exclaimed and leaped for his wagon. The +odor in the air had not been entirely from his breath. The bullet +intended for Duke had punctured the barrel near the top; and now the +wagon was dripping. + +Ike hastily clambered in. First he tried to stop the hole with his +thumb; next with his hat; and while the crowd hooted he shamelessly +stooped and glued his lips to the spot! + +"Haw, haw! There's his 'lawful okkipation'!" + +"That's his idee of 'civi-_li_-zation,' is it?" + +"Pity the hole isn't at the bottom instead of near the top," remarked +Harry, disgusted. "Come on, Terry." + +With a little help they freed the cart from the Chubbers wagon; and +driving the now quieted Duke and Jenny, proceeded on their way. Behind, +they heard Pine Knot Ike haranguing the crowd, proclaiming that he was a +"ruined man." But he seemed to get scant sympathy. + +Without more adventure they completed the half circuit of Manhattan +town, crossed the main road and between the road and the Kansas River +found a shady spot where they might noon comfortably. Duke was tied by a +fore-leg to a tree (they knew better than to tie him by the horns, for +he was strong enough to break any rope, that way); and after lunch +Harry rode Jenny bareback, down to town, for supplies. + +The road up-river was one line of outfits toiling onward under a cloud +of dust. They were interesting to watch. Was the whole United States +moving westward for the mountains? The constant procession +passed--wagons of all descriptions, men horseback and muleback, men, +women and children afoot; a party of men accompanying a push-cart hauled +by two of them in the shafts. The "Noah's Ark" wagon passed. And Pine +Knot Ike's wagon, with Ike swaying tipsily on the seat. And now a man +wheeling a wheel-barrow. But he did not pass, after all. He turned +aside, and deposited his laden barrow and himself under a tree near +Terry. + +He ate his lunch, and eyed Terry, Shep and Duke. + +"How'll you trade?" he asked. That was the customary challenge. + +"No trade," answered Terry, promptly. "Are you going clear to Pike's +Peak with a wheel-barrow?" + +"Yes, sir. I'll push across. I've got the best outfit of anybody. Only +my own mouth to feed, and don't need to look for grass. When I make a +dry camp I'm the only sufferer. I can set my own gait, too--can cover +twenty miles a day. Well, my name's McGrew. What's your name? Where you +from, where'd you get that buffalo, who's with you, and what trail do +you calculate on taking?" + +He seemed to be a very cheerful, plucky man, and Terry replied in +fashion as friendly. + +"My name's Terry Richards. My partner's Harry Revere--he's the same as a +brother. We're from up the Big Blue. This buffalo is half cow; I caught +him when I was hunting with the Delawares; his name is Duke. We're +thinking of taking the Republican trail." + +"Oh, you're the boys from the Big Blue, are you? I might have guessed. +I've heard about you." + +"Have you?" responded Terry, curious. + +"Yes. Sol Judy rode through last night and told me to keep an eye out +for you; but you seem able to take care of yourselves, all right, +judging from your little set-to with that whiskey peddler. I only wish +the shot had gone lower, but the chances are he'll empty his barrel +himself before he gets to the diggin's." + +"Which trail do you think you'll follow?" asked Terry, in turn. + +The wheel-barrow man scratched his head. + +"I travel light. Believe I'll tackle the Smoky Hill route, straight west +from Riley. It's shortest. Sol favors the Republican, on account of the +stages. The majority of the people are going by the Smoky, though, or by +the Santa Fe Trail--except those who are already striking the Republican +farther to the north of us. The California and Oregon Trail, up along +the Platte, of course will be the main trail." + +Harry returned with a sack of flour, a side of salt pork or sow-belly, +some sugar and coffee and beans, matches, a hatchet, and a few other +articles. His arms were filled, and Jenny was almost covered, much to +her disgust. She hee-hawed at Duke, and Duke stared wonderingly through +his matted forelock. + +"Best I could do," hailed Harry. "Never saw such a mob. The stores are +near cleaned out. I couldn't get picks or spades for love or money, but +I reckon we can find them at the other end, or maybe at Junction City +beyond Riley." + +"Well, I'll see you boys at the diggin's," spoke the wheel-barrow man, +rising and grasping the handles of his barrow. And away he trudged, to +skirt the procession on the dust-enveloped road. + +"He says he's going to try the Smoky Hill trail," informed Terry, +"because it's shorter." + +"It may do for him," answered Harry. "But the more haste the less speed, +for some of the rest of us. I believe we'd better take Sol's advice, and +break our trail across to the Republican until the stages catch up with +us." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE TRAIL GROWS LONESOME + + +Fort Riley was fifteen miles west. Progress was slow, on the crowded +road, and at six o'clock the "Pike's Peak Limited" was glad to draw +aside out of the dust and camp for the night near to a wagon labeled +"Litening Express." The owner was a heavy, round-faced German, with a +family of buxom wife, and of six girls ranging from big to little. He +had a chicken coop, a large cook stove set up for the evening meal, a +feather mattress, and an enormous bale of gunny-sacks that formed a seat +for him while he watched the supper-getting. + +Harry and Terry called easy greeting, and pretty soon he strolled over. + +"Iss dat a wild boof'lo?" he queried. + +"He was wild once, but he's tame now." + +"You are de boys who made dot man loose his whiskey, mebbe." + +"I guess we are," laughed Harry. It was astonishing, the speed with +which news traveled among the overlanders. + +"Dot was a goot t'ing. How far you say to dose gold mines, already?" + +"'Bout six hundred miles. What are you doing with all those sacks?" + +"I t'ink I poot my gold in dem, an' bring it back home." + +"That'll be quite a load, won't it?" smiled Harry. "You know gold weighs +mighty heavy." + +"I haf a goot team," replied the German, not at all worried. "I fill my +sacks, an' poot dem in my wagon, an' I come home in time for winter, an' +den I am rich. I will be one of de richest men in Illinois. Mebbe next +year I do it over." + +"A very fine plan," remarked Harry, gravely. And the German returned to +his own fire, much satisfied. + +"Jiminy! Is that the way?" blurted Terry, suddenly excited again. "We +ought to've brought sacks." + +"We've a sack of oats and a sack of flour, and I wouldn't trade 'em for +his sacks of gold--yet," retorted Harry. + +This night the flickering camp-fires of the other gold-seekers twinkled +all along the road. Fiddles were tuned up, to play "Monkey Musk," "My +Old Kentucky Home," "Yankee Doodle," and other tunes, and voices joined +in. What with the playing and singing, the barking of dogs and the +noises from cattle, sleep was difficult except for persons as tired as +were the "boys from the Big Blue." + +At Fort Riley, which was a new army post, with massive stone buildings, +near the juncture of the Smoky Hill River from the west and the +Republican River from the north, here forming the Kansas River, the +number of outfits lessened. Some struck north, some took a short cut +south for the Santa Fe Trail at the Arkansas River. + +At Junction City, beyond, the last of the white settlements, the route +of the remaining "Pike's Peak Pilgrims" again split. The main portion of +the travelers seemed to favor the new trail straight westward, up along +the Smoky Hill River, and on they toiled, to "get rich in a hurry." It +was the common report that the Smoky Hill River could be followed clear +to the mountains, but this, as Harry and Terry afterward heard, proved +untrue. + +Another portion turned off southward, for the Santa Fe Trail again. A +good government road led down to it. Only a few had decided upon +attempting the newest trail of all: that to the northwest, for the +Republican by way of the divide between the Solomon River on the left +and the Republican, far on the right. + +"We're on our way," tersely remarked Harry, as the "Pike's Peak Limited" +left Junction City for the unknown. "It's liable to be lonesome, till +the stages come." + +However, several wagons had preceded; and this first night camp was made +at a creek, and close to another party also camped. + +"Whar you boys from?" That was the first question. + +"Do you calkilate to get thar with a buffalo and a yaller mule?" That +was the second question. + +"How'll you swap dogs?" That was the third question. + +And--"Do you figger on diggin' out your pound of gold a day?" was the +fourth question. For Eastern papers had asserted that this was the +regular output of the Pike's Peak country: a pound of gold a day to each +miner! + +"Half a pound a day will suit us," responded Harry. + +"Dearie me!" sighed the woman--a nice, motherly woman, the sight of whom +imbued Terry with a little sense of homesickness. "We all count on a +pound a day for one hundred days, so as to buy a farm back in Missouri. +Maybe, if the children and I dig, we can raise it to two pounds a day. +That'll be two hundred pounds, which is a right smart amount of money." + +Junction City having been put behind, now there was not even a cabin to +be seen. The high plain between the valley of the Solomon on the south +and the valley of the Republican on the north stretched wide and +unoccupied save by the squads of antelope, the scant trees marking the +creek courses, and the scattered white-canvased wagons ambling on. + +It was a go-as-you-please march. Outfits wandered aside, seeking better +trail or better camping-spot. Occasionally one had broken down, and was +halted for repairs or rest. Already the chosen route was dotted with +cast-off articles, abandoned to lighten the loads. Bedsteads, trunks, +mattresses, chairs--and Harry, pointing, cried: + +"There's the 'Lightning Express' stove!" + +For the German's heavy cook-stove reposed, by itself, on the +prairie--and odd enough it looked, too. + +"Wish we'd come to his feather tick, some evening," quoth Terry. + +Fuel, even buffalo chips (which were the dried deposits left by the +buffalo, and burned hotly) were scarce. The "Limited" aimed to camp each +evening at a creek, if possible, where trees might be found; but most of +the dead wood had been used by other travelers, or by Indians, and the +green willow and ash smudged. The sage and greasewood burned well, but +burned out very quickly. + +Duke and Jenny footed steadily, making their twelve and fifteen miles a +day, up and down, into draws and out again, and the "Limited" seemed to +be gradually forging ahead. For a time, each night camp might be +established (a very simple matter) in company with other pilgrims; and +the spectacle of the half-buffalo and the yellow mule pulling in, or +already waiting, invariably excited the one conversation. + +"How far to Pike's Peak, strangers?" + +"Five hundred miles or so, yet, I guess," would answer Harry, politely. + +"It's an awful long trail, this way, ain't it? How far to the +Republican?" + +"That I can't say." + +Then the outfits would exchange travel notes and personal history. + +But the trail was petering out, as Harry expressed, more and more, as +the creeks were being headed, and anxious gold-seekers swerved aside +looking for the Republican Valley and better water. + +About noon one day a giant, solitary tree waited before. Several +wagon-tracks led for it, and Duke and Jenny followed of their own +accord. It was a big cottonwood, with half the bark stripped from its +trunk by lightning. + +"A store of good wood, there," remarked Harry. "Wonder why nobody's +chopped it down." + +"It's got a sign on it," exclaimed Terry. "See?" And--"'Pike's Peak Post +Office,'" he read, aloud. + +The sign was plain; and presently the reason of the sign was plain. On +the white surface of the peeled trunk was scrawled a number of names and +other words. + +"Pike's Peak or Bust!" + +Underneath: "Busted! No wood, no water, no gold. Boston Party." + +Also: + +"Keep to the north." + +"Climb this tree and you won't see anything." + +"The jumping-off place." + +"The Peoria wagon. All well." + +"Bound for the Peak, are you?" + +"'Litening Express'!" announced Harry. "Our German friend is still +ahead." + +"'Mr. Ike Chubbers'!" spelled out Terry, with difficulty. "Aw, shucks! +He's this far already." + +"Yes, and there he went!" laughed Harry, gleefully. "Those are sure his +tracks. He's sampling his barrel." + +And by token of a weaving, wobbling, sort of drunken pair of wagon-wheel +tracks that made a wide swing for the north, Pine Knot Ike evidently had +continued in a new direction. + +"He's hunting the Republican," agreed Terry. "Hope we don't run into +him." + +"Nope," declared Harry. "Once is enough. Hurrah!" he uttered. And he +read: "'Stage line here. Sol Judy.'" + +"That's so." And Terry peered. "But I don't see the line. Wonder which +way he went. There's a double arrow, pointing both ways. Wonder if it's +his. Wonder when he wrote here. If somebody hadn't written on top of him +with charcoal, a fellow might tell." + +"Anyway, we won't turn off yet," declared Harry. "And if we stand here +'wondering' we won't get anywhere at all. He said to keep northwest by +the high ground. Maybe that wagon track ahead is the Lightning Express. +We'll keep going. Gwan, Duke! Jenny!" + +"Sort of wish we'd gone by the Smoky Hill, don't you?" ventured Terry. +"We'd had more company." + +"When we strike the Republican we'll find plenty company," asserted +Harry. "This _is_ getting rather lonesome, I must confess." + +Not a moving object was in sight. The "Pike's Peak Post Office" tree +stood here all by itself, as if waiting for the stages. And yet, Terry +well knew (unless the sights at Manhattan had been a dream), north and +south of them thousands of people were trooping, trooping westward in +long, human rivers of creaking wagons. + +He and Harry gave a last look behind and on either side, searching the +brushy expanse for other outfits; then they left the friendly cottonwood +and headed westward again, in the tracks of the wagon before. But +suddenly Harry stopped. + +"Pshaw! We forgot." And he limped hastily back to the tree. With his +pencil he wrote on it. Of course! Terry returned to see. + +"The Pike's Peak Limited. April 20, 1859. All well," announced this +latest inscription. + +"Somebody will read it," quoth Harry. "It'll show we got this far +ourselves." And they returned, better satisfied, to the cart. + +"There's one thing sure," continued Harry: "The less company we have, +the more fuel and forage we'll find. We're getting into the buffalo +country, too. See?" + +For the surface of the ground was cut deeply by narrow trails like +cattle trails, but made by buffalo wending probably from water to water. +Some of the trails had been freshly trodden. + +"That means we'll have to look sharp after Duke and Jenny," warned +Terry. + +They proceeded. + +"Well, here come a party," remarked Harry. "But they're going the wrong +way." + +"Maybe it's some of the stage line surveyors." + +The party, of three men, two of them horseback and one of them muleback, +drew on at trot and rapid walk. The men were bearded, roughly dressed, +and well armed with revolvers and rifles. Meeting the Pike's Peak +Limited, they halted. So Harry and Terry halted. + +"Howdy?" + +"Howdy yourselves. Where you bound?" + +"For the land of gold," cheerfully answered Harry. + +"Land o' nothin'!" rebuffed the spokesman of the party. "Turn back, turn +back, 'fore you starve to death." + +"Why? Are you from the Pike's Peak mines?" + +"We're from the Cherry Creek diggin's, young feller, but we didn't see +any mines there nor nowheres else. It's all a fake, and we're on our way +to tell the people so and save 'em their bacon." + +"Aren't you bringing any gold?" exclaimed Terry. "Have you been there +long?" + +"Long! Gold!" And he turned his pocket inside out. "That's the size of +your elephant. We've been there since last November, sonny, and the gold +is in your eye. That Pike's Peak craze is the biggest hoax ever +invented. It's just a scheme of a few rascals to sell off town lots. +They want to get people to come out yonder; and gold is the only thing +that'll persuade 'em into the barrenest, porest country on the face of +the 'arth. We've been thar, so we know. We couldn't get out, in the +winter; but everybody's leavin' now, to tell the folks along all the +trails to face back and go home." + +Terry felt a sinking of the heart. Harry also seemed to sober. + +"What gold is it that's been sent out of there, then?" he asked. + +"Californy gold! Fetched through from Californy. Never was taken out of +that Pike's Peak country at all. Californy gold, used to fool the people +with, back in the States." + +"But my father brought home two hundred dollars in gold, and he found +it there somewhere, himself--near Pike's Peak," argued Terry, with +sudden thought. "We've already got a mine!" + +"He did, did he? Waal, if he did he was lucky, and he was luckier to get +out with it. Thar may be a little gold--thar's gold to be washed from +'most any mountain stream, but you can't eat gold. Yon country's a +freezin' country and a starvation country and an Injun country, fit for +neither civilized man nor beast. The government'll need to step in and +forbid people goin' to it. The hull of it ain't wuth an east Kansas +acre." + +"All right. Much obliged," said Harry. "So long." + +"Goin' on?" + +"We'll try a piece farther," said Harry. "How's the trail ahead? Did you +see any stage line stakes?" + +"Stage line stakes! What you dreamin' of? That stage idee is another +hoax. You'll find that out, together with a few other things. But if +you're _set_ on bein' a pair of young fools, _go_ on. We haven't more +time to waste with you." + +And forthwith the party spurred on its eastward way. + +"Look out for Injuns," called one, over his shoulder. + +"Humph!" mused Harry. "Doesn't sound very encouraging, but we can't +believe everything we hear, for and against, both. If we did, we'd never +know _what_ to do. A fellow has to act on his own hook, sometimes, until +he can judge by his own experience, where he can't depend on the +experience of others. That party may have secret reasons for talking +so." He eyed Terry. "Shall we go on, clear through? I don't think a few +discouragements will turn the wheel-barrow man back." + +"I don't, either!" declared Terry, bracing. "Let's go on." + +"Duke! Jenny! Hep with you!" responded Harry. "Hurrah for the Pike's +Peak Limited, and maybe the Lightning Express, too! But no German with a +wife and six girls and a feather bed shall beat this outfit. We're +liable to come on a stake, any time. And the next will be only a few +miles, and the next another few miles, and at that rate we'll hit the +Republican River smack." + +But to Terry, surveying the monotonous, empty landscape, single stakes +planted maybe days' journeys apart seemed rather small landmarks. + +In mid-afternoon they did indeed overtake the "Litening Express." It was +halted beside a small, stagnant water-hole, as if making early camp. The +wife and the six girls were sitting around, in disconsolate manner, and +the German himself was soaking his naked feet in the water. + +"What's the matter here?" hailed the cheerful Harry. "Broken down? +You're pointing the wrong way." + +For that was so. The one wagon track beyond had doubled, and the wagon, +from which the team had been unspanned, was heading east instead of +west. + +"Yah," stolidly answered the German. "We go back. Dere iss no elephant. +Now we go back again home quick. We haf met some men who haf told us." + +"Oh, pshaw!" uttered Harry. "You're half-way. Better go the rest of the +way and see for yourself. You mustn't let a few wild rumors stop you." + +"Don't you intend to fill your sacks?" added Terry. + +"Dere iss no gold, so dey say; an' notting else," insisted the German. + +"Once you believed there was, and now you believe there isn't," laughed +Harry. "You might as well believe the first as the second, as far as you +know." + +"And there is gold, because we've got a mine," encouraged Terry. + +"Nein." And the German shook his head. "I set out to fill my sacks; dose +men say I cannot fill dem. So I go home. I t'ink you better go home, +too. You camp here with us, an' I fix my feet, an' we haf a goot supper, +an' den in mornin' we travel togedder." + +"Nope, we're bound through," replied Harry. "This is no time of day for +us to camp." And Terry was relieved to hear him say so, for the stagnant +pool, with the German's feet in it, did not look very inviting. "What +did you find ahead?" + +"Notting an' nobody," grumbled the German. "All joost like dis." And he +swept his arm around to indicate the bare stretch of plains. "Purty soon +you see where I turn to go home, an' den you be all by yourself. I do +not like it. I like peoples. So I go home." + +"You didn't see any stake, did you?" queried Terry. + +"What stake?" + +"To mark the stage line." + +"What for would dey poot any stage line where dey ain't peoples?" +demanded the German. + +"All right: how'll you sell your mining tools?" asked Harry, with alert +mind. "You've no use for them." + +"Mebbe I dig garden. But I sell dem to you for one dollar an' half--de +whole lot." + +"Done!" cried Harry. "And how about those sacks?" + +"Dey iss goot potato sacks. But what will you gif me for dose sacks?" + +"Four bits." + +"Well, I guess you take dem. You t'ink to poot potatoes in dem? Nein, +nein; you iss crazy. It iss as crazy as to t'ink to poot gold in dem." + +When they left the German, who had resumed the soaking of his sore feet +in the general pool, they were possessed of two new picks, two new +spades, a cask of sauerkraut, and the bale of sacks. + +"What'll we ever do with the sacks?" inquired Terry. + +Harry scratched his long nose. + +"Blamed if I know, yet," he admitted. "But you never can tell." + +In about an hour they passed the place where the "Litening Express" had +turned about. Now there was no trail at all, except the endless buffalo +trails. Somewhere they had lost even the hoof-prints of the three +horsemen. + +They made late and solitary evening camp on the farther side of a deep +creek bed, whose banks had been broken down by crossing buffalo. There +was so little water that Terry had to dig a hole, in order to get a +pailful for supper and breakfast. But in wandering about searching for +buffalo chips in the gloaming, he shouted gladly: + +"Here's a stake--a new one! It says: 'Station 11'!" + +Harry limped to inspect. + +"Bully!" he enthused. "We don't care where the other ten are. This shows +we're on the right road. Well, Mr. Station Master, I want supper and +beds for two, and a guide to the next station. What's the tariff, and +what'll you trade for sauerkraut and gunny-sacks? But I wish your +company'd make your stations a little bigger, for this is a powerful big +country." + +However, tiny as it was, the stake appealed as a human token. There were +signs, also, of an old camp, near the creek; and from the stake +hoof-marks led away westward, as if to the next stake. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +TOUGH LUCK FOR THE LIMITED + + +"I suppose," reflectively drawled Harry, in the morning at breakfast, +"that by the looks of things we're in for a dry march or two before we +strike the creeks on the other side. Anyway, we'd better fill the water +keg, sure. And I opine you're to go ahead, to keep those horse tracks, +while I follow with the cart." + +"Pike's Peak or Bust," responded Terry. + +They started early, to push on at best speed. Duke grunted, Jenny +sighed, the cart creaked, Harry whistled, Shep scouted before and on +either hand, sniffing at the buffalo trails and charging the prairie +dogs and little brown birds, and Terry, trudging in the advance, +faithfully kept to the hoof-prints. + +Perhaps the Pike's Peak pilgrims who had turned off had been wise, for +the water certainly was failing. Now there were only a few shallow +washes, and these were dry as a bone, showing that the top of the low +prairie divide was being crossed. Still, with a full water keg, which +would give several good drinks to all, and with the horse tracks to +follow, and the Republican side of the divide somewhere ahead, there was +no cause for worry. + +Duke and Jenny stepped valiantly. Terry felt a pride in the thought that +the Pike's Peak Limited was the first overland outfit on the new stage +trail. He wondered if they would beat the wheel-barrow man in to the +diggin's. Maybe they would! He wondered when they would sight the +mountains. Tomorrow? No, scarcely tomorrow. The horizon ahead was a +complete half-circle, broken by never an up-lift. In fact, 'twas hard to +believe that any mountains at all lay in that direction. + +At noon Harry guessed that they had covered ten miles, and he figured on +covering another ten miles before evening camp. He was anxious to reach +the next water. The cart was not much of a drag, and both Duke and Jenny +were strong. So at the noon camp everybody had a little drink, and Duke +and Jenny had a little grass, and a little doze. Shep snored. A good +dog, Shep. + +"It's queer how little game we've seen, except measley rabbits," +observed Harry, that evening. "Only some antelope, and one old buffalo +bull at a distance." + +"And no Indians, either," added Terry. + +"Well, expect the Indians are with the buffalo or else begging along the +main trails," reasoned Harry. "But we'd better hobble both animals +short, anyway, so they won't stray off looking for water." + +The sun had set gloriously in a clear and golden west. While camp was +being located in the open, the broad expanse of rolling plain quickly +empurpled; and in the twilight Terry staked out Duke, by a rope and a +strap around his fore-leg, and Jenny by a rope around her neck. When +supper was finished, and the dishes scoured with twigs to save the +water, the first stars had appeared in the sky. + +Just before closing his eyes to sleep, Terry from his buffalo robe gazed +up and sighed contentedly. It was a fine night. + +The coyotes and the larger wolves seemed unusually busy. Their yaps and +howls sounded frequently. Several times during the night Terry was +conscious that Shep growled, and that Duke and Jenny were uneasy; he +heard also a low rumble, as of distant thunder, but he was too sleepy to +sit up and look about. When he did unclose his eyes, to blink for a +moment, he saw that the stars were still vivid in the blue-black sky +overhead. + +This was the last thought--and next he awakened with a start, to pink +dawn and Harry's ringing shout: + +"Buffalo! Great Scott! Look at the buffalo!" + +Harry was up, standing near the cart and gazing to the east. Up sprang +Terry, too, and gazed. The rumble was distinct. A miracle had occurred +between darkness and dawn--all the plain to the east was black with a +living mass which had flowed upon it during the night. + +Buffalo! + +"I should say!" gasped Terry. + +"Must be ten thousand of them," called Harry. + +"Look out for Jenny and Duke!" + +Jenny was snorting, as the morning breeze bore the reek of the vast herd +to her nostrils. No, mules did not like buffalo. Duke's head was high, +as he stared. Harry had partially dressed; now he hurried to quiet the +team. Terry drew on his trousers and boots and hastened after. + +The buffalo were grazing, and seemed to be drifting slowly this way. The +hither fringe was not a quarter of a mile from the camp. Bulls bellowed +and pawed and rolled, calves gamboled and breakfasted, and around the +mass prowled great gray buffalo wolves, waiting their chances. All was +wondrously clear in the first rays of the rising sun. + +Harry led the restive Jenny to the wagon and tied her short. + +"I think we'd better get right out of here," he announced, as he helped +Terry and Shep drive the equally restive Duke in. "The coast ahead is +clear. But if we wait for breakfast or anything, that herd's liable to +be on top of us." + +"Let's hustle, then," agreed Terry. "They're coming this way, sure. I +heard 'em, in the night, but I didn't know what it was." + +"Same here," confessed Harry, as they hustled to put Duke and Jenny to +the cart, and pitch the camp stuff inside. "Funny where such a mob rose +from. Reckon something set 'em traveling." + +Jenny was quite ready to leave, but Duke was more reluctant. However, on +started the Pike's Peak Limited again. + +"We'll stop for breakfast when we're at a safer distance," quoth Harry. +"Hope we reach water tonight." + +Yes, the great herd was perceptibly nearer when they pulled out. But at +the rate it was moving it could be left behind while it peacefully +grazed. The thin brush was a-sparkle with scant dew, soon dried by the +bright sun. The hoof-prints of the second horseman party showed plainly +in the sod and sandy gravel. Terry acted as guide, Harry, following with +the cart, urged on Duke and Jenny. + +"Reckon we'll come to another stake today," called back Terry. + +"Reckon we will," answered Harry. + +The rumble of the herd gradually died. The sun mounted higher, and Terry +was thinking upon breakfast, when a sudden hail from Harry halted him. + +"Wait! Listen!" + +Harry had stopped. + +"Whoa!" And Duke and Jenny stopped, not at all unwillingly. + +Terry stopped, poised. Another dull rumble! More buffalo? Nothing was in +sight before or on either hand. The rumble came from behind--and yonder, +against the sun, welled a cloud of dust. + +"They've stampeded!" he cried. + +"Sounds like it. And the question is, which way are they going?" + +That was speedily answered. + +"Gee whillikens!" exclaimed Terry. "They're coming this way!" + +A swell of the prairie had concealed all save the dust; but now atop the +swell had appeared black dots, succeeded instantly by a long wave of +solid black, as over and down surged the whole herd, covering the back +trail and pouring on with astonishing, not to say alarming rapidity. +The flanks extended widely; there was no time for escaping to one side +or the other. In fact, the cart seemed to be right in the middle of the +broad path. + +Harry acted quickly. + +"Watch the animals!" he ordered. "I'll tend to this end. Don't lose your +head, Terry. We can split 'em." + +He limped to the rear of the wagon. Terry ran back to Duke--and saw that +Harry had jerked the shot-gun from where it was stowed, and was posted +out behind the wagon. The crowded ranks of the buffalo were so close +that the earth trembled. Jenny trembled, also, and Duke was pawing and +staring side-ways. Shep, barking wildly, took refuge underneath the +wagon. + +Terry seized the whip, dropped by Harry, and threatened Duke from +before. + +"Steady, Duke! Jenny! Whoa! Whoa, now!" + +"Steady, everybody!" yelled Harry, above the up-roar. The stampeding +herd was upon them. Three or four of the fleetest cows raced past, +galloping, heads low, little tails cocked, with the peculiar rolling +motion of the running buffalo; and close after pressed the whole mass--a +crowded frontage of thundering hoofs, shaggy heads, bulging eyes, +lolling tongues, huge shoulders lunging, lion-like manes tossing, and +slim, smooth hind-quarters bobbing up and down. And back from the front +rank, these were all mixed together--solid! + +Terry's heart beat wildly. An instant more, and----! Why, the cart +outfit was only a speck in the path of this darkly rushing avalanche +which would swallow them all in a jiffy and never know; would mash them +flat! + +He caught his breath, while trying to quiet Duke and Jenny. There was no +use in running away--Harry stood braced--how small he looked--but he was +plucky--and now he actually ran forward, a few steps, right against the +onward plunging rank--waved his hat--shouted--and bang! bang! warned the +shot-gun, belching its challenge into the buffalos' faces. + +"Duke! Jenny! Whoa!" shrieked Terry, desperately--and now gladly, for +another miracle had occurred. The foremost buffalo, as if suddenly aware +of the cart, and the human beings, had veered aside, to right and left, +avoiding Harry, and the cart, and all; and following their leaders, to +right and left were veering the others, here at the middle, so that the +divided herd began to stream past in a heaving, jostling current, on +either hand. It had been split, by Harry; and the Pike's Peak Limited +was an island. + +Harry continued to yell and wave his hat and arms. He stood there +fearlessly, at the split. At first the split was narrow--Terry almost +could touch the shaggy forms as they lurched by. He started to yell and +wave, also, and help widen the split--for it did widen--but speedily he +had to quit. Duke and Jenny were nervous enough already. Jenny snorted, +reared; Duke shook his head and strained from side to side. + +"Duke! Whoa! Steady, boy! Back, Jenny!" + +The pounding of the incessant hoofs was like the long-roll of a great +drum. Thick rose the dust, but not so much from the earth as from the +big hairy bodies, to which had clung dried dirt. Bulls, cows, and +calves; cows, calves, and bulls--forming a stifling, living lane of +constant motion. + +Terry scarcely could hear himself. + +"Duke! Whoa, boy! Steady, there! Whoa, Jenny!" + +Would the herd never be past? Yes, yonder it was thinning--and farther +beyond, the stragglers were in sight. Good! + +"Duke! Be careful, Duke!" He was growing more unmanageable. Terry danced +before him, and threatened. "Whoa Jenny! Whoa, Duke!" And--"Duke! Duke! +DUKE! Whoa-oa! DUKE!" But no use; with shake of angry head and flirt of +wickedly cocked tail Duke bolted; dragged Jenny and the cart together, +knocked Terry sprawling--Terry clutched vainly at the cart, was dragged, +himself, a few feet, staggered up, hatless, stumbled on the frightened +Shep, and gazed after with a wail: "Oh, jiminy!" + +They were away, in the dusty wake of the flying herd: Duke galloping, +Jenny galloping, the cart bounding. + +Harry had turned just in time to witness. His sweat-streaked face gaped, +amazed, perplexed, and hardened into sudden resolution as whirling he +sprang forward. But Terry was as quick. Grabbing up his hat as he went, +he launched in the pursuit. Out-stripping him, Shep ran furiously, +barking, and Harry kept close behind. + +The cart was plainly visible, in an open place among the stragglers at +the rear of the herd. Duke lumbered, Jenny lumbered, the cart lumbered, +and holding to the chase lumbered in their heavy boots Terry and Harry. + +Soon it was evident that a harnessed buffalo was no match for free +buffalo. Duke's outfit was being left; buffalo after buffalo passed it, +until presently Duke and Jenny and the cart were traveling alone. But +they kept going, on a stampede of their own, imitating the insensate +herd. + +"Darn that Duke!" panted Terry. And he shouted: "Sic', Shep! Turn 'em! +Sic', sic'! Catch 'em, boy!" + +Shep darted gaily. He fairly tore through the brush. Now he had reached +the cart--and now he was barking alongside the crazy team. Would he do +it? _Could_ he do it? Yes, he was trying to head them. He had gained the +front; yapping, darting, snapping, he was crossing back and forth before +Duke's nose. Down lower dropped Duke's burly head; he charged; Shep +dodged, and returned. + +The cart swung and tilted, and out was bounced the cask of sauerkraut. + +"Hurrah!" cheered Harry. + +On at a tangent lumbered Duke and Jenny--Shep was bothering them +seriously--and out bounced the water keg. + +"Great Scott!" gasped Harry. "Don't let's lose that keg!" + +"Shep'll stop 'em! Shep'll stop 'em!" panted Terry. "Hurrah!" His throat +was tight, his heart thumped tremendously, his legs were like lead, but +he had hopes. + +Shep knew his business of turning cattle. Now wherever the enraged and +frantic Duke headed, the pesky, yapping, snapping dog was under his +nose. Jenny was growing tired of being dragged hither-thither; she +detested dogs, and she despised buffalo, tame or wild. Duke, at his +wits' end, and tired also, stopped short; she stopped; Duke pawed and +shook his locks and rumbled, keen yet for just one good chance at his +tormentor--and Shep, sitting down, with tongue dripping, held the way. + +There they were when, breathless, Terry and Harry arrived, to scold the +runaways, to praise Shep, and to take stock of damages. + +"Not a thing broken, is there?" pronounced Harry, still panting, after +the hasty survey. + +And that appeared to be the case. Of course, the stuff inside the cart +was pretty well jumbled; but the frame and wheels seemed all right, and +the harness was whole, and only Duke and Jenny themselves were the worse +for wear. Their drooping heads and heaving flanks proclaimed that they +had run quite far enough. + +So, thought Terry, had he and Harry. He felt as though he had run a mile +or more. Whew! + +"All's well that ends well," asserted Harry, regaining his spirits. +Nothing downed Harry. "Now, first thing to do is to get that keg of +water. But I don't suppose we'll ever find the trail. The buffalo must +have tramped it out--and we're away off the track, anyway. Shucks!" + +"Where is the keg?" asked Terry, peering. + +"There it is--that first dot. See? The gunny sacks are beyond, and the +sauerkraut last. Let's turn the critters about. You bring them on and +I'll go ahead. Maybe something else was jounced out." + +Duke and Jenny were turned, after considerable shouting and shoving; +Harry set off on a straight line for the keg, and Terry followed more +slowly with the team and cart. It did seem rather tough luck that they +had lost the horsemen's trail to the next stake; now they'd simply have +to guess at direction, unless they happened to be near the stage line +and a stage came. + +Golly, but he was thirsty! His mouth was glued. He hoped that they +all--that is, Harry and he and Shep--would get a good drink from that +keg. As for Duke and Jenny, they did not deserve a drink, although +doubtless they needed one. And what about something to eat? + +Harry was waiting at the keg, a queer look on his perspiring, grimy +face. He had set the keg on end. + +"Thirsty?" he queried. + +"Thirsty's no name for it," panted Terry. + +"So am I. But we'll have to go easy. The bung flew out of the keg, and +half the water's followed. I found the bung, but I can't find the +water." + +Harry evidently tried to speak lightly, but Terry read concern in his +tone and face both. + +"Can you stand a short drink?" encouraged Harry. "There'll be plenty on +ahead somewhere." + +"Sure," declared Terry, manfully, feeling thirstier than ever. "We've +got a little, haven't we? And if we strike that trail maybe it'll lead +us to a creek." + +So they hoisted in the keg, tightly stoppered again (but it was +suspiciously light), and Harry trudged ahead once more, to find the +gunny sacks. + +"We'll never mind the sauerkraut," he called back. "Let it stay. The +lighter we travel, the better, from here to water." + +Shep went with him. They dipped into a shallow, narrow draw; Terry heard +Shep barking, and then Harry hallooing. And when, urging Duke and Jenny, +he could see into the draw, Harry was there, at one side, beckoning and +shouting to him, and at the same time examining some object on the +ground. + +"Haw, Duke! Haw! Hep with you!" Along the shallow draw they toiled, for +he was afraid to leave the team. + +Harry was kneeling, Shep was nosing and busily waving his tail. They +were engaged over that object. It could not be the gunny sacks. The +gunny sacks had not rolled so far from the back trail. + +"Whoa-oa, Duke, Jenny! Stand, now!" And Terry trudged a few steps to +join the investigation. He stopped short, astounded. + +Harry and Shep had found a man--no, looked more like a boy; lying +crumpled and motionless in a little saucer-shaped hollow amidst the +brush. + +"Say! Is he dead?" gasped Terry. + +"No. Hasn't even been stepped on, I think," answered Harry. "But he +needs food and water mighty bad--'specially water. Open the keg, +quick." + +[Illustration: "TERRY FLEW TO THE CART ... FLEW BACK AGAIN WITH THE +PRECIOUS FLUID"] + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JUST IN TIME + + +Terry flew to the cart, wrestled with the keg until he might pour from +it, and lavishly plashing a tin cup full, even to running over, flew +back again. + +Harry sopped his handkerchief and mopped the up-turned face of the +cast-away; trickled a few drops, now and then, in between the cracked, +parted lips; wet the thin wrists. Skin and lips seemed to absorb water +like a dry sponge. + +The unconscious refugee was small and exceedingly thin; he could not be +over eighteen or nineteen at the most. He wore coarse shoes and +trousers, and a flannel shirt open at the chest. Harry wet the white +chest. Terry and Shep watched expectantly. + +"He must be a stray from some pilgrim outfit," remarked Harry. "Got +lost. Expect he tried to strike across country by himself, and had no +food or water. Queer that the buffalo didn't harm him. They went right +over him." + +And that was so. All the brush, save in this oasis, was crushed, and the +ground was stamped and furrowed by the myriad plunging hoofs. But +somehow they had leaped the little hollow, or avoided it. + +"Did you find him?" asked Terry. + +"No; Shep found him. More water, please." And Harry passed up the +emptied cup. + +When Terry returned with it filled again, a change had occurred in their +patient. His eyes were fluttering, and he was feebly moving his bony +hands. He greedily gulped for the water, and even tried to seize the cup +when Harry removed it. Some of the water flowed over his face, but some +of it was swallowed. + +Terry hated to see any of it wasted on the ground. He was thirsty +himself; so were they all--Duke bawled hoarsely and Jenny essayed to +beg, smelling water and asking for it. + +The patient appeared to be attempting to speak--signed for more, more. + +"A little at a time, a little at a time," repeated Harry. "You're all +right. You're among friends, but you mustn't drink too much at once. +Might make you sick. Another swallow? There you are." + +The second cup was emptied. The patient was beginning to mutter thickly +and seemed to be seeing--signed for more, more. A slight color tinged +his smooth sunken cheeks. + +"He's coming round," declared Harry. "Next thing is to get him out of +this sun and into the cart. We can't stay here. Whew, this sun is hot! +Watch him and shade him as much as you can, will you, while I fix +things?" + +Having fumbled inside the cart, away limped Harry, and returned lugging +the bale of gunny sacks. He cut the binding with his knife, and opened +the bale--spread the sacks in the cart, for a bed, and leaping out with +a buffalo robe, brought it to the hollow. + +"Now let's put him on this and hoist him aboard." + +That was done, Terry tugging from inside the cart and Harry lifting from +outside. The sacks and the buffalo robe made a very comfortable, snug +bed, and wedged the sides so as to hold the patient securely. + +"Water," feebly implored a voice. + +"One cup full, this time," granted Harry. "Drink slowly--slowly, now." + +The boy clutched the cup with both hands, and Harry with difficulty +prevented his draining it at a gulp. But having drained it, he sank back +with a sigh. + +"Ho, hum!" And Harry paused, to sigh too, and wipe his streaming face +with his handkerchief. Duke and Jenny had their heads turned, +expectantly; Shep was sitting, his tongue out, his eyes eager, likewise +demanding a share from the keg. "I suppose we'll all have a small drink +apiece, but we've got another mouth to supply." + +"We won't have enough, will we?" anxiously asked Terry. "We hardly had +enough before." + +This did loom as tough luck: to have been limited in water anyway, then +to have lost the trail, and to have lost part of the water, and to have +used half of the valuable day in getting nowhere in particular, but in +being made thirstier than ever, and now to have added still another +thirsty mouth to the company. Of course---- + +"Never mind," asserted Harry. "Everything's all right. Don't you see--if +the stampede hadn't come Duke and Jenny wouldn't have run, and if they +hadn't run, we might not have lost the trail, and if the things hadn't +bounced out we wouldn't have back-tracked to gather them, and if we +hadn't back-tracked, we would never have found the boy, and if he hadn't +been found today, he'd have died, down there in that hollow. Now we'll +all get through. We won't stop to eat, but Duke and Jenny will travel a +little faster for a drink, and so will the rest of us. Half a cup for +you, and half a cup for me, and half a pail for them, to wash the dust +out of their throats, and a dozen laps for Shep. And one more cupful for +our new partner, when he needs it." + +"Well," said Terry, dubiously, "I don't know whether there's that much +in the keg or not." + +There was, and a swash left. The boy in the cart didn't understand. +"Water! Water!" he kept begging, as the Pike's Peak Limited ("limited" +indeed) again toiled on through the monotonous flatness, Harry guessing +at the right direction and Terry trudging beside the rear wheels. That +incessant cry for "water, water," grew rather annoying. The new boy +already had had four cupfuls and probably'd get another! And every +cupful counted now. But of course----! + +"We must go on as far as we possibly can, before dark," had said Harry. +"Or until we strike water, first." + +When would that be? Duke and Jenny were sluggish on their feet, and +frequently stumbled as they groaned along with their stringy tongues +dangling. It was slow work, and hot work, and awfully thirsty +work--Terry wasn't certain that he could hold out much longer without +another drink. + +"Do we drink again pretty soon?" he stammered. + +"I don't think we'd better, do you?" answered Harry, as if trying to +speak cheerfully. "We've got to save some for Duke and Jenny, and our +passenger. We can't get him through without them to haul him." + +"Tha' so," agreed Terry, his mouth gluey. "Thasso." + +"Yesh, thasso," encouraged Harry. "You an' I awright. We unnerstan'. +They don't." + +"Water! Water!" babbled the passenger. His voice was the clearest of +any. + +Trudge, trudge, creak, creak, over the dry plain, on for that quivering +horizon which might contain water but never drew nearer. They did not +know where they were going; they probably had passed another of the +stage station stakes; bushy black Shep was lagging, Duke and Jenny +stumbled, Harry limped doggedly, the passenger pleaded ever more faintly +and piteously until Harry, halting abruptly, without a word grimly gave +him half a dozen swallows; and when they resumed, Terry had decided that +he'd rather have a drink, himself, than all the gold of Pike's Peak. + +However, Harry took none; and so he didn't ask for one. + +The sun was low, streaming into their faces, and dazzling and blinding. +Soon it would set; soon they must stop; one spot would be as good as +another, if they didn't come to water--and just how he was to get +through a dry night, following a dry day, Terry could not imagine--did +not like to imagine, anyway. + +That keg, when Harry had tilted it to give those few swallows to the +passenger, had sounded alarmingly emptier than before. Water evaporated +mighty fast on these plains. + +Turning a moment, to shut the sun from his tortured eyes, now Terry saw +something, quartering behind, on the right, which was the north. What? +Antelope? No; too much dust. Antelope didn't raise such dust. Buffalo, +then? More buffalo? Or Indians! No--and a wild hope surged into his +heart and strengthened his voice, as he cried, to Harry: + +"Harry! Hurrah! There's somebody else--another outfit!" + +Harry, who had been plodding on, stopped to gaze; and instantly the +exhausted Duke and Jenny stopped. + +"Freighters," decided Harry. "Great Scott! Hurrah! Or maybe some of the +stage-line people. We'll have to head 'em off and make 'em see us. Come +on. Hurrah! Duke! Jenny! Gwan! Water! Water! Barrels of it--gallons of +it!" + +Duke and Jenny seemed to appreciate--they started gallantly. + +"Gee--gee with you, Duke!" bade Harry, hobbling. + +"Do you think they _will_ have water?" panted Terry. + +"Of course. But we'll have to catch 'em. Duke! Jenny! Hep!" + +The dust cloud yonder had resolved itself into quite a large outfit, +traveling briskly. There was a herd of animals--mules or horses; and two +wagons following, drawn each by four span; and several men afoot, and +others horseback. + +"They'll have to camp pretty soon. We'll come into 'em, if we keep +going," encouraged Harry. And he added, suddenly: "Look at Jenny! She +smells water. And so does Duke!" + +For both Duke and Jenny were alertly stretching out--sniffing, tugging, +trying to increase their pace. They almost trotted. Could they really +smell water in barrels, away off there--or did they guess? At any rate, +the two routes were drawing together. + +The sun sank below the horizon, and a pleasant coolness flowed over the +landscape. Now in the twilight the freighter outfit had halted, and +bunched. Going to make camp? No--there it started again. Pshaw! But +no--some of it had remained: not the wagons, but several of the loose +stock, and two men, and a heap of stuff. + +"Hurrah!" gasped Harry. "That's enough. Enough for us." + +Duke and Jenny were trying to break into a gallop, and their owners had +hard work to keep up. The party at the camp had seen them coming, and +were pausing in their camp-making to stare. Now at a staggering lope and +trot the Pike's Peak Limited fairly charged in--would have run right +over the camp had not the two men there rushed out and waved their arms +and shouted. + +The camp was on the edge of a muddy creek course. That was what ailed +Duke and Jenny; only by main force could they be held back. + +"What's the matter? Plumb crazed?" scolded one of the men. + +"Their critters are plumb crazed, don't you see?" reproved the other. +"Unhook 'em and let 'em go, or they'll drag cart and all in." + +Harry hustled, Terry hustled, the men helped--and on sprang Duke and +Jenny, into the mud, into the water, to drink, and gulp, and drink +again, and stand there, belly deep, soaking. Terry yearned mightily to +join them, but Harry was more polite. + +"Whar you from? You look nigh tuckered out, yourselves," accused one of +the men. + +"So we are," gasped Harry. "We're down to our last drop--we've a man +aboard the cart who's worse off still--picked him up this morning. But I +can't talk till I have a drink." + +"Never mind the creek; it's too roily. We've a barrel full." And the +other man promptly passed over a brimming dipper. Harry took it; his +hand trembled. + +"You first, Terry," he said. + +Terry shook his head. + +"We'll take turns," he proposed. "You drink and then I'll drink." + +Ah, but that water, warmish and brackish, was good! Together they +emptied the dipper, and at once emptied another--and by this time the +two men had lifted the boy from the cart and were attending to him, +also. He was too weak to talk, but he seemed to know, and smiled when he +likewise had drained a dipper. + +"Give him a little broth, later," grunted one of the men. "He had a +narrow squeak, I reckon. Mustn't overfeed him. We'll stew him some +buff'ler meat. 'Xpec' you fellers are hungry, yourselves, by this time." + +"Haven't eaten all day," laughed Harry, in spirits again. "But where are +we? We're looking for the stage line, and the Republican." + +"You aren't near the Republican yet, by a long shot. But this is a stage +station, all right. Fust stages will be through tomorrow and after that +two at a time every day, till the trail's well broken. We're part of the +supply outfit. It drops some of us off every so far along the line, +ahead of the stages, so we'll have meals and lodgin' and a change of +mules ready. You needn't do much unpackin'; we've grub enough, and you +can bunk with us and put that sick boy in the tent." + +"Yes, and the stages'll take him on tomorrow," spoke the other man. +"You'll have to lie by, anyhow. You can't start your critters out till +after they've rested a bit. That's a great team you've got--a buffalo +and a mule! Where you from?" + +"The Big Blue," answered Terry. + +"Oh! You're the boys from the Big Blue, are you? You're the ones who +spilled Chubbers' whiskey." + +So even they knew! + +The station agent and his helper were a hospitable pair. Harry +volunteered to attend to the cooking while they straightened the camp a +little, for the night. The supply wagon had dumped off a tent, a stove, +a barrel for water, a bale of hay, bedding, sacks and boxes of +provisions, several bunches of fire-wood, etc. The tent was erected, the +rescued boy placed inside and given a little broth. He immediately went +to sleep. + +This was Station Twelve--a dinner station for the stages. The next +station, Number Thirteen, about twenty-five miles farther on, was a +night station. The stations would average about twenty-five miles apart, +through this region, to the diggin's. Farther east, in the settlements, +the stations were closer. One hundred stages and a thousand mules would +be put on the run, at a cost of $800 a day. The company, Jones & Russell +of Leavenworth, already had spent $300,000. The fare from Leavenworth to +the mountains was $100 gold, and shorter trips were twenty-five cents a +mile. Time to the mountains, twelve days--maybe less when the trail was +well broken, and if the Indians didn't bother. + +"Two stages travelin' together will hold off the Injuns," remarked the +station agent. + +"Heigh-ho!" drowsily yawned Harry, after dusk, from his blankets. "All's +well that ends well--but I was getting a trifle worried." + +He and Terry had decided to wait for the stages, and to let Duke and +Jenny rest during at least half that next day. The fact is, they were +willing to rest, themselves. + +Toward noon the station men paused in their tasks, to gaze more and more +frequently into the east. + +"Thar they come," quietly informed one; and now all gazed, expectant. + +"Right on time." + +Upon the surface of the vast plains to the south of east had appeared a +dot. It rapidly enlarged, and resolved into two dots, one behind the +other. They were coming--they were coming: the first stagecoaches, sure +enough; each drawn by four mules, driver on seat, other people on seat +and roof, heads protruding from windows, mules at a gallop. + +"Yes, sir-ee! On time to the minute." + +Swaying and lurching and dust-enveloped, with creak of leather and +sudden grind of brake-shoes, the leading stage slackened at the station, +stopped abruptly, and setting the brake more securely the driver tossed +his lines to the ground and in leisurely fashion descended. He was in +slouch hat, white shirt-sleeves (or whitish, rather), yellow kid gloves +and shiny boots. Somewhat of a dandy, he. + +Another man swung down from the seat, after him; so did the passengers +atop the coach, and those within piled out. The second coach arrived in +like fashion. + +The first coach was painted red, the second green; and both were gilt +striped and bore, in gilt letters, the announcement: "Leavenworth and +Pike's Peak Express Company." + +The station-agent's assistant bustled to unhitch the mules and put in +fresh ones. The station agent served the dinner, of cold boiled buffalo +meat, bread and coffee. The passengers ate out of doors, sitting on the +boxes and a nail-keg. + +One of the passengers who had ridden on top of the coach was a busy, +inquiring man with a full brown beard and a blue eye and a long linen +duster. After he had eaten he walked over to Harry and Terry. + +"I'm Henry Villard, from the Cincinnati _Commercial_," he said, +genially. "The station agent tells me that you boys have had quite an +exciting experience on this new trail. Buffalo stampede, and a rescue, +and all that. I'd like to hear about it and send it to my paper. It +ought to make a good story." + +The man who had occupied the seat with the driver also came over. + +"A buffalo, a mule and a two-wheeled cart, eh?" he commented. "Well, I +guess you'll make it, if you've got so far. But there are five thousand +other pilgrims behind us, some with worse outfits than yours, and all +pushing on by this same trail, to find the 'elephant.'" + +Journalist Villard took notes; he even interviewed the boy in the tent. +The boy was now able to talk. He said that his name was Archie Smith. He +and two others had started from Ohio, to walk to the diggin's. They had +tried to cut across north from the Smoky Hill trail and had got +lost--and the last he remembered he was wandering alone, so weak from +hunger and thirst that he had fallen down. + +The man who had spoken of the five thousand pilgrims behind (his name +was Beverly D. Williams, and he was the stage-line superintendent, on +his initial tour of inspection), helped Archie into the red coach. + +"All aboard!" summoned the drivers, climbing to their seats. The +passengers hastily took their places. As the red coach started with a +jump, from the window Archie waved his hand at Harry and Terry, and +called again: + +"Thanks. I owe you a lot. I'll see you at the mines. Don't forget. I'll +see you at the mines." + +With a jump the green coach started also. And away rolled, tugged by +their galloping mules, the first stages for Pike's Peak, bearing +Journalist Henry Villard of the Cincinnati _Commercial_ and +Superintendent Williams, and those passengers who, like Mr. Villard, +were bent on discovering just how true the "elephant" stories were. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +SHEP DOES HIS DUTY + + +The Pike's Peak Limited prepared to follow. + +"Five thousand pilgrims! Did you hear that? All coming along behind!" +exclaimed Terry, as he and Harry "hooked" the now rested Duke and Jenny +to the cart. "These are new ones. He didn't say anything about the other +trails." + +"We heard how they were, before we left," reminded Harry. "And we saw a +right smart smattering of folks at Manhattan, remember. Oh, I don't +think we'll be lonesome." + +"All you've got to do now is to follow the stage tracks," directed the +station agent. "You'll come to stations every so often. But you'd best +keep your water keg filled. There's no knowin' what'll happen on these +plains." + +"Yes, sir," concurred his helper. "And keep your weather eye peeled for +Injuns. Don't let 'em bamboozle you or if they don't take your scalps +they'll steal you blind. When Injuns come in, hang tight to your +scatter-gun." + +"Haven't seen any, so far," remarked Harry. + +"No; but you can't tell. In my opinion that buff'lo stampede was caused +by Injuns--like as not that was why the buff'lo drifted down on you in +the fust place. And if you hadn't got out when you did, in a hurry, +you'd have had more trouble, plenty." + +The stages had long since disappeared in the west, but the tracks were +plain. Tomorrow there would be other stages, and the next day others, +and so on, had said the station men; and before the Limited had even +sighted the mountains some of these same stages would be met coming +back. That made travel at a walk seem rather slow, especially when gold +was waiting only to be found. + +A second pair of stages passed them, with a swirl of dust and a cheer, +late the next afternoon, but they found them spending the night at +Station Thirteen, on the bank of another creek. Here they also camped. + +"Twenty-five miles again," sighed Harry, satisfied. "We'll get there." + +Duke and Jenny had indeed footed sturdily. The hurrying stages seemed to +be an inspiration to them. They felt that they, also, were now going +somewhere. + +The coaches had been full. There were two women, who slept in the +station tent. The men passengers slept on the ground, under a canopy of +gunny sacking stretched over stakes. For their own comfort the station +employees were digging a cave in the side of an arroyo or dry wash, +where they might house themselves and cook, in bad weather. Could fight +off the Indians from it, too, they said. + +The talk among the passengers was mainly of buffalo, Indians and the +other sights along the trail. The Indians had been bothering the timid +pilgrims considerably, with begging and stealing, but had not bothered +the stages. + +"We'll take no chances, though," declared the stage-driver. "Never let +an Injun think you're afraid of him--that's the secret. Once start to +give in, and you're lost. Most of these pilgrims never've had experience +with the plains Injuns. They try to please 'em and buy their good-will +by giving 'em something for nothing, and the Injuns don't understand. +Giving something for nothing isn't Injun way. It amounts to being +afraid. Why, we passed at least half a dozen outfits who'd been so good +to the Injuns that they didn't have a critter left--every head driven +off, some in broad daylight, and there the wagons were sitting. One +wagon had said at first 'Pike's Peak or Bust,' and now it said, 'Busted, +by Thunder!'" + +"Must have been Kiowas or Cheyennes. The 'Rapahoes aren't ranging so far +east, are they?" suggested the station agent. + +"Oh, they're all ranging everywhere, now, following the buffalo and +begging from the pilgrims," quoth the driver. "Kiowas, Cheyennes and +'Rapahoes--they're in cahoots. But I hear tell that the main band of the +'Rapahoes under old Little Raven are sticking 'round Cherry Creek, +camped there on their winter grounds, along with the whites, instead of +chasing the buffalo. It's easier." + +The Pike's Peak Limited pulled out early, bent on making time and not be +overtaken by those five thousand rivals who were still coming. In about +an hour and a half the stages passed at a gallop, while the drivers +saluted with a flourish of whips. And the Limited proceeded to plod +after. + +Buffalo had become quite abundant. They were constantly in sight--large +bunches and small; but Duke seemed to have had his fill of rampaging, +and paid little attention to his kin-people. However, as Harry remarked, +where there were buffalo, there likely were Indians. + +"If any do come in on us," he said, "I'll grab the gun and you tend to +Jenny. If there's one thing a mule hates worse than buffalo, it's +Injun--and Jenny's powerful sensitive, poor thing." + +"Maybe we ought to mount guard tonight," proposed Terry. "I'll sit up +and then you sit up." Mounting guard for fear of Indian attack would be +another fine story to tell to George Stanton. + +"Not yet," decided Harry. "We'll stake Jenny in close, and she's awake +all night anyway. At least, with her grunts and groans she sounds like +it." + +"I suppose Shep would make a racket, too." + +"W-well," mused Harry, "I believe I'd rather trust to Jenny's ears and +nose than to Shep's--there's more _of_ them." + +The buffalo before and on either side grazed peacefully; but about three +o'clock that afternoon a commotion was evident behind. The buffalo were +scampering, and afar on the trail appeared a little cloud of dust. + +"Can't be another stage already, can it?" questioned Harry. + +"Injuns!" exclaimed Terry. "But they wouldn't be raising dust, would +they? Or maybe they're chasing a stage!" + +Harry paled slightly. + +"We'll soon see. But they won't get this outfit without a heap of +trouble. We're going through to the diggin's." + +However, it wasn't a stage. It was a light open wagon, drawn by two +horses at a furious pace. Anybody might have thought that the horses +were running away, except for the fact that a man on the seat was using +the whip. + +"Great snakes!" ejaculated Harry. "We'll have to clear the track. Gee, +Duke! Jenny! Gee! Gee-up! Whoa-oa!" + +He turned out just in time. The on-comers were in a tearing hurry. The +horses, red-nostriled, staring-eyed, lathered and dust-caked, looked +like chariot racers in full career--two men were on the seat, one +driving, the other plying the whip, and both constantly gazing backward. +They wore visored caps and belted blouses and knee trousers--revolvers, +knives, field-glasses; up and down in the wagon jolted a mass of camp +stuff, and guns, and provisions. This much Terry saw during the last +minute in which the equipage arrived, dashed half-way past, and there +was pulled short with a suddenness which set the two horses on their +haunches. + +"Injuns!" cried the two men, over their shoulders. "Cut loose for your +lives!" + +One was a blond, pinky-skinned man, the other was not so fair; but the +faces of both were faded to a dead, dusty white by fear. Their eyes were +curiously poppy. + +"Where? How many?" demanded Harry and Terry, in the same breath. + +"Chasing us! Five hundred of 'em! Raiding the stage line! Plundering the +stations! Killing the emigrants! Burning the settlements! Cut loose! +Ride for your lives!" answered the two men, in a sort of duet. + +"Five hundred are quite a parcel to be chasing two men," drawled Harry. +"Where'll we ride to, and how?" Mighty cool Harry was, in the midst of +alarm, thought Terry. "All right," continued Harry, briskly. "One of +us'll get on this mule and you can take the other in your wagon and----" + +"No, no! No room!" they protested. "We've a load. We can't wait. Cut +loose. You'll catch us. Ride for your lives. How far to the next +station?" + +"'Bout ten miles," drawled Harry. + +"Gid-dap!" Down swished the lash, forward sprang the horses. "There they +come!" yelled both men. "We're all dead----" and away they tore again, +leaning forward on the seat, shaking the lines and plying the whip, and +constantly looking back up the trail. + +"Jiminy!" gasped Terry. "They said five hundred. What are we to do? We +can't fight off as many as that. You--you can have Jenny," and he +choked. "I'll ride Duke. Hurry!" + +But Harry appeared to be in no especial hurry. He scratched his long +nose reflectively, and surveyed the trail behind. + +"Don't see 'em, do you?" he invited. "'Five hundred of them'--'raiding +the stage line'--'plundering the stations'--'killing the +emigrants'--'burning the settlements'!" He was mimicking the two +fugitives. "Five hundred fiddlesticks! That's too many Indians at one +time. Besides, there aren't any settlements 'round here to burn, except +at the mountains, and those two lunatics haven't been to the mountains +yet. And if we 'cut loose' and 'rode for our lives,' where'd we ride to? +Might better save our strength and dig a hole." + +"Don't you believe them, then?" + +"No. You can't believe cowards. I don't blame them any for running away +from five hundred Indians, but it was right mean to run away from _us_. +So I sized up that a husky outfit who'd leave a lame man and a boy to +escape on a mule and a buffalo while they went ahead with a good team +and wagon couldn't be depended on in talk or action either. Why, they +had guns enough there to fight a week! Guess they were on a hunting trip +across, and are nervous. G'lang, Duke! Jenny! Let's keep going." + +"There are Indians coming, just the same," presently informed Terry, who +could not help but peep behind. + +"Two--three--five," pronounced Harry. "They're the five hundred whittled +down to fact. We needn't pay any attention to the four hundred and +ninety-five others yet. You watch Jenny, and Shep and I'll watch these +fellows." + +The Indians, five of them, were rapidly approaching at a lope, down the +stage trail. When they were within two hundred yards Harry, uttering a +sudden "Whoa!" fell back to the rear of the wagon and, grabbing the +shot-gun, faced about, and raised his hand as sign for them to stay +their distance. They slackened in a jiffy, but one rode ahead, to talk. + +They were armed with bows and lances; half clothed in blankets and +moccasins; appeared very dirty but seemed good-natured. The old fellow +who rode ahead was a stout, grinning Indian--chief, evidently, by the +feather in his greasy hair. + +"How?" he grunted, from his ambling spotted pony. "No shoot. 'Rapaho. No +hurt um white man. Chase um. Heap fun. See wagon men? Heap fun." + +"Keep back," warned Harry, over the barrel of the shot-gun. "No fun +here. We don't run." + +"There's Thunder Horse, Harry!" hissed Terry, who, guarding the team, +had an eye also upon the Indians. + +The stout spokesman on the spotted pony was really quite good-looking; +three of the others were not much worse; but the fifth in the squad was +entirely different--his hair was cut short on the one side and left long +on the other, instead of being in two braids, and his naturally ugly +face was pitted with small-pox scars. His blanket was the dirtiest of +all the blankets, his features the greasiest, his mouth the coarsest; +and now as he also tried to smile, his blood-shot eyes glared fiercely. + +Thunder Horse, the Kiowa, he was, again: the outlaw Indian whom Terry +had first encountered among the Delawares on the emigrant trail into +Kansas, a year ago, and who had been an enemy ever since. He was a +drunken rascal, was Thunder Horse; nothing seemed too mean for him to +try. He even had stolen George and Virgie Stanton; but Terry had helped +them to get away. + +Terry recognized Thunder Horse--and Thunder Horse evidently had +recognized Terry, and Shep, too. Terry had pelted him with eggs, and +Shep had nipped him in the calf. So Thunder Horse smiled at Harry and +scowled at Terry and Shep. + +"Which one?" asked Harry, aside. "The ugly one?" + +"Yes. Look out for _him_. You'd better." + +"All good. Like um white boy. White boy give 'Rapaho shoog, coff," +wheedled the chief, advancing; and now another of the Arapahoes rode +forward. + +"Him Little Raven; big chief," he said, speaking English very clearly. +"Me Left Hand. Little Raven talk not much English. I talk for him. Where +you going?" + +"To the mines, of course." + +"You see two men in wagon?" + +"Yes." + +"We no harm them. They run, then we yell and they run faster. Little +Raven want to ask if you give him a little sugar and coffee." + +"Haven't any to spare." + +"Give him a little sugar, little coffee, little bread, and mebbe he show +you where heap gold in the mountains." + +"No, no," refused Harry. "Stand back, all of you," for the other +Indians were edging toward the wagon, from either side. Jenny smelled +them, and had grown restive---trembled, snorted, and Shep maintained a +constant growling from underneath the wagon. + +"All right." And Left Hand spoke gutturally for the information of +Little Raven, who nodded. "Brave boys. Not foolish and run. Good-bye." + +Little Raven insisted on shaking hands with Harry and with Terry. +"G'bye," he grunted. "Heap boy. No run," when suddenly Terry cried, past +him, to a figure on horseback: + +"Get out o' there!" + +During the leave-taking Thunder Horse had sidled in with the others, and +pressing along the wagon, behind Harry (who had considerable to watch +with one pair of eyes and one gun), was stealthily thrusting his arm in +under the edge of the canvas hood. + +"Get out o' there!" yelped Terry. + +Harry turned hastily--but there was a snarl, a whoop, and back careened +Thunder Horse, on his pony, with Shep hanging to his moccasin. The +moccasin and the foot within it, extending below the cart, and so +convenient, had been too much for Shep. Besides, their owner was up to +mischief! Shep knew him of old. + +Thunder Horse kicked vigorously--and while the other Indians laughed +and shouted, and Shep held hard, shaking and worrying, he jerked his +knife from somewhere--flung himself low and stabbed at his black shaggy +tormentor. + +"Shep!" called Terry, alarmed. "Quit it! Here!" + +With a final dodge, Shep tore the moccasin loose and carried it under +the cart. Glaring a moment at the cart, at Terry, at Harry, Thunder +Horse, scowling blackly, rode on. The four Arapahoes, laughing among +themselves, followed. The way with which Shep had astonished Thunder +Horse amused them greatly. + +The next noon, when the Pike's Peak Limited passed the stage station, +the agent hailed with the question: + +"Say! Was it your dog that bit that Kiowa in the foot?" + +"Yes. He'd tried to steal from the cart." + +"Well, served him right. 'Twasn't much of a bite, but he had a powerful +sore foot when he and those 'Rapahoes went out this mornin'. They camped +here all night." + +"Teeth scurcely broke the skin; but he's been so pizened with whiskey +that any least scratch on him's liable to make a bad sore," added the +agent's helper. + +"Did two men with a team and a wagon get here in a hurry, yesterday +evening?" asked Harry. "Ahead of the Indians?" + +"Yes, sir!" laughed the agent. "Those hunter greenhorns, you mean, +flying from a massacre? We calmed 'em down, let 'em hide in the tent, +and told 'em if they'd stay behind the massacre it wouldn't catch 'em. +So they waited until the massacre left, then they left." + +For the next week and more the Pike's Peak Limited kept hearing, from +station to station, of Thunder Horse and his sore foot. His foot had +swollen, his leg had swollen to the knee, it had swollen above the +knee, it was still swelling--and he was very surly, and evidently in +much pain, and drunk whenever he could obtain any liquor. + +The hunters' wagon disappeared, between stations, as if on a short-cut +to the Republican; and soon thereafter the Chief Little Raven squad, +including the then much distressed Thunder Horse (whose leg, said the +last agent, ought to be cut off), disappeared also. + +The Pike's Peak Limited plodded along. At some time every day a stage or +two stages from Leavenworth on the Missouri River passed, usually full, +but occasionally half empty. The Valley of the Republican was close +before, and behind was pressing nearer the van of that great procession. + +"They're beginning to raise a dust," remarked Harry, gazing back. + +"Yes; but you can see a dust ahead, too," said Terry. "Hope we get there +first." + +That night the camp-fires of the leading outfits on the trail behind +were plainly visible, winking through the darkness; and down in the +broad Republican Valley scattered other camp-fires were winking. + +"An early start for us in the morning, remember," enjoined Harry. + +It was almost noon when, just beating a faster-stepping team trying to +overtake, the Pike's Peak Limited, first pilgrim outfit through by the +new stage route, filed into the well-trodden, dusty trail made now by +stage and gold-seekers combined up the wide valley of the Republican. + +"Hee-haw!" exulted Jenny; but Duke the half-buffalo only flirted his +little tail at sight of the new company. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE TRAIL GROWS LIVELY + + +Yes, plenty of company now. The procession had penetrated a short +distance before, but stretched a farther distance behind or eastward: +white-topped wagons of all descriptions, their canvases torn by hail, +stained by rain and dingy with dust, drawn by ox-teams, mule-teams and +even cow-teams, and accompanied by men, women and children afoot, a few +ahorse, every individual and every animal striving to reach the Pike's +Peak country and the Cherry Creek diggin's there. + +The pilgrimage was about to "noon"; and with Duke and Jenny pulling +bravely, making their best showing, the Limited skirted the line, while +good-naturedly replying to the various welcomes. + +Pretty soon the road ahead was blocked, as the overlanders spread right +and left to cook and eat dinner. + +"Let's drive off to the side, yonder, Terry," bade Harry. "That looks +like a good spot near to that 'Root Hog or Die' outfit." + +"How are you, boys?" greeted the proprietor of the "Root Hog or Die" +wagon. "We're most of us from Ohio. Where are you from?" + +"From the Big Blue Valley, Kansas Territory, farther east," answered +Harry. + +"We came by the stage trail," added Terry. + +"I see. Well, we took a vote and decided on the Republican Valley, and a +hard time we've had, but here we are. What do you say to cooking our +dinner on the one fire, and we'll swap notes?" + +He seemed to be an extraordinarily well-spoken man, notwithstanding his +untrimmed beard and rough garb. Was a college professor, as happened, in +Ohio; and was going to the mountains for his health as well as to make a +fortune. So here he was, with his wife and little girl, accompanying a +lot of other Ohio people. + +Leaving Duke and Jenny to graze a little while longer, after dinner the +"boys from the Big Blue" strolled about, to inspect other outfits and +exchange information. The noon camp was rather quiet, with the men and +women and children resting or finishing their dishes; but back down the +trail there appeared to be a commotion--as of people gathering around a +wagon from which a man was making a speech. + +"Come on. We might as well see all the sights on the way," bade Harry. + +The speech-maker's back was toward them. Terry figured that if he talked +as rapidly as he flourished his arms, his speech would soon be ended for +lack of words. However, the words were still flowing strong. Something +in the loud tone, and the gestures, and the long unkempt black hair, and +the high thick shoulders in the ragged shirt, and the greasy slouch hat, +struck Terry as familiar. + +"Pine Knot Ike!" he exclaimed. + +"The very man--our valued acquaintance and fellow citizen, Ike Chubbers, +'half wild hoss and half grizzly b'ar,'" chuckled Harry. "We'll stand +off and listen to his discourse." + +They halted on the edge of the little throng, from where they could view +Ike's hairy profile as, beating the air with his fists, above the +up-turned gaping faces, he delivered his harangue. + +"I air the only man who ever roped an' rid an alligator in its native +swamps," he was proclaiming, and already he was quite hoarse. "I air the +only man who fit off five hunderd of the wust savage Injuns that roam +these hyar plains, an' killed nigh every one of 'em. Gentlemen an' +feller citizens: Look at this hyar bar'l. Count the bullet-holes." And +by main force Ike held aloft his whiskey barrel. It certainly was well +peppered with holes. "When the savage Injuns come down on me I war +alone, travelin' my peaceful way to help civilize the diggin's, but I +war too tough to kill. Injuns make a mistake when they attack a man o' +my nater, gentlemen, for I air slow to wrath, but I air a powerful +fighter when anybody, red or white, goes to twist my tail. I air a +ring-tail twister myself, gentlemen. So I tells my bulls to charge them +Injuns, an' I forts myself behind this bar'l an' opens up with my +pill-slingers. We fit for a runnin' mile, until this bar'l war as you +see it now, gents, an' what Injuns warn't dead had fired all their shots +an' skeedaddled. Then I gets out an' cuts off the head of the chief of +'em all, an' puts it in the bar'l, an' hyar it is on exhibition. The +head complete of a real, native wild Injun, ladies an' gents--the actual +head of old Roarin' Buffler, big chief o' the combined Sioux, Kiowa, +Cheyenne an' 'Rapaho nations, most o' who air still layin' out thar on +the desolate plains, sculped by my own hands. Old Roarin' Buffler +hisself put seven holes in this bar'l 'fore his head went in. The head +air nicely pickled an' perfectly natteral, ladies an' gents; an' for the +privilege o' seein' it I ax only a small collection. Will you kindly +cirkilate my hat, an' be keerful not to take out more'n you drop in." + +Whereupon, having handed down his battered slouch hat, Ike paused, wiped +his face with a dirty bandanna, and seated himself upon his scarred +barrel. + +"He put every hole in that with his own revolver, I bet you!" whispered +Terry. "The old fraud!" + +"A convenient way of drinking the whiskey," murmured Harry. "If the +barrel wasn't his, he can claim the Indians did it, you know." + +"Well, we can tell him about the first hole, all right," scolded the +indignant Terry. "And so can other people." + +"Now for the head," invited Harry. + +The hat had been returned to Ike, who eyed the contents doubtfully, +shook them over, and stowed them in his pocket with a scowl. + +"Six bits air a mighty measley sum to pay for the privilege an' +eddication o' seein' the actual head o' the biggest, fiercest Injun who +ever terrerized the West till he tuk arter the wrong pusson, but I'll +show him to you, jest the same." + +So saying, Ike reached into the barrel, and extracting his prize, held +it up. Harry nudged Terry; staring, Terry saw, recognized, gasped. + +"Thunder Horse! Aw----" + +"Do you know, I kind of expected that," alleged Harry. "I kind of felt +it was coming." + +The face of the severed head was assuredly the hideous face of Thunder +Horse, the drunken Kiowa; and the hair was the Kiowa's hair. + +"Thunder Horse died because of his leg, and Ike found him and cut off +his head!" scoffed Terry. "I'm going straight to the wagon and show the +whole thing up. We'll make Ike look sick--that old blow and his barrel +and his 'big-chief' head!" + +"No," opposed Harry. "Wait. There's no use in showing Ike up now. We'll +save our ammunition." + +"Well, I'm mighty glad old Thunder Horse is gone, anyhow," observed +Terry, as they went back to the cart. "He was bad medicine." + +The Ohio party were starting on. So the boys from the Big Blue put Duke +and Jenny to work again and fell in with the procession wending broad +way up the shallow valley of the Republican. + +Once every day the procession opened to give passage to the stages +westward bound on the trail; and at last stages eastward bound, +returning to Leavenworth, were met. They were assailed with all kinds of +questions, but they brought little news of importance, and apparently +little gold. + +Many people eastward bound, ahorse or afoot, also were met. + +"Turn back, every one of you," they advised. "Folks are going out +faster'n they're coming in. Some of 'em don't even stop to unhitch their +teams. Picks and spades are offered at fifteen cents apiece, and no +takers, and the man who makes fifty cents a day is lucky." + +"Auraria's burned and we've hanged the boomers," proclaimed another +squad. + +And another squad, trudging along, warned earnestly: + +"Look out for the man with buckskin patches on his breeches. He's the +leader of the gang who's robbing the pilgrims. Remember the buckskin +patches. There's no elephant--only jackasses." + +Not few in the procession did turn back, especially when the water and +fuel began to fail, as wider and more bare and sandy the valley became. +Soon there were several marches without water at all, for the river had +sunk into the sand. The choking dust floated high, the sun was burning +hot. The majority of the animals were sore-footed, from the gravel and +cactus and brush. Duke, who had been behaving nobly, seemed to have +strained his shoulder and was limping. Jenny was gaunter than ever. + +The trail had veered to the southwest--to strike, it was reported, some +creeks, and Cherry Creek itself. + +"That's another trail yonder to the south, isn't it?" spoke Harry, one +morning. + +"Yes; and wagons on it!" exclaimed Terry. "Maybe it's the Smoky Hill +trail, or the people from the Santa Fe trail." + +The "Root Hog or Die" professor, who tramped with them while his oxen +followed of their own accord, consulted a map that he carried. + +"I think they must be from the Smoky Hill route," he said. + +The two lines of travel approached each other, and at evening were about +to join. Terry uttered a cheer. + +"I see the wheel-barrow man!" he cried. "They're the Smoky Hill crowd, +all right." + +"They look pretty well used up," remarked Harry. "Must have had a hard +trip." + +The wheel-barrow man, pushing bravely, was in the van. His barrow +wobbled, and the wheel was reinforced with rawhide, but he himself was +as cheery as ever when the Big Blue outfit welcomed him. + +"Yes, terrible hard trip," he acknowledged. "Some of us near died with +thirst, and I hear tell that several wagons were burnt for fuel, so's to +cook food and keep the folks from starving. But those of us who are left +are still going." + +"Same here," asserted Harry. "How far to the mountains, do you reckon?" + +"Better than a hundred miles, but we'll get there." + +The next day the pilgrims from the Smoky Hill trail and the pilgrims +from the Republican trail traveled on together, with every eye eagerly +set ahead, for the first sight of the mountains. + +"I see 'em! Hooray! + +"There's the land o' gold, boys!" + +"Those are the Rocky Mountains! We're almost through." + +"They're awful small for their size, aren't they?" quavered a woman. + +They did appear so. They were like a band of low hummocky clouds in the +western horizon. But the next morning, when the outfits climbed over a +gravelly ridge that grew a few pines, one after another they cheered +joyfully again. Hats were waved, sunbonnets were flourished. The +mountains seemed much closer--they loomed grandly in a semi-circle from +south to north; their crests were white, their slopes were green and +gray. + +"Where's Pike's Peak?" + +Everybody wanted to know that. The "Root Hog or Die" professor consulted +his map, for information. + +"I rather think Pike's Peak is the last peak we see, to the south," he +mused. "That to the far north is called Long's Peak." + +"Where are the diggin's, then?" + +"Well, they're somewhere in between." + +From the piny ridge the route descended along the side of a brushy +valley pleasantly dotted with cottonwoods and other leafy trees, and +struck the head of a creek course--and presently another trail on which, +from the south, still other pilgrim outfits were hastening northward at +best speed. + +Where the trail from the east joined with this second trail from the +south a signboard faced, pointing north, with the words: "Santa Fe-Salt +Lake Trail. Cherry Creek Diggin's, 70 m." + +"Cherry Creek at last!" affirmed Harry, that evening. "Whew, but that +mountain air tastes good!" + +Now this combined trail on northwest to the diggin's was a well-traveled +trail indeed, deep with sand and dust. Occasionally it dipped into the +creek bed, which in places was wide enough and dry enough for the teams. +The mountains were on the left--distant thirty miles, declared the +professor, although the greenhorns declared they were within a short +walk. High rolling plains were on the right. + +A few prospectors were encountered, already digging and washing in the +creek, or scouting about. From the last night's camp a little bevy of +lights could be seen, ahead--the diggin's at the mouth of the creek! +During the next morning---- + +"There's the river! There's the Platte!" announced voices, indicating a +line of cottonwoods before. + +Wagons coming down from the north, by the Platte trail, also could be +seen, making for a collection of tents and huts gathered near where the +Cherry Creek apparently emptied into the Platte. + +Much excitement reigned throughout the procession. The wheel-barrow man +already had trundled ahead. Duke limped gamely, and Jenny kept her long +ears pricked forward. Now it was every outfit for itself, in order to +secure the best location and get to work. + +In mid-afternoon the trail forked, and signs directed: "To the left for +Auraria, the coming metropolis," and "Straight ahead for Denver City." +Men were stationed here, beseeching the pilgrims to settle in Auraria, +or in Denver, and make their fortunes. The men were red-faced and +perspiring and earnest. + +Auraria was the older, and on the mountain side of the creek--had the +newspaper! Denver was the better built, and the more enterprising, was +on the trail side of the creek and had the stage office. + +"What'll we do, Harry?" panted Terry, as momentarily the Limited halted, +held by the confused press in front, bombarded and undecided. + +"Keep a-going straight ahead," said Harry. "That's been our program. If +we don't like Denver we can cross to Auraria, but blamed if I can see +much difference between 'em." + +And that was true. On the flat ground along the shallow Cherry Creek lay +sprawled an ugly collection of log huts and dingy tents and Indian +tepees of buffalo hides, with people moving busily among them, and a +host of emigrant wagons and animals and camps on the outskirts. All the +flat on both sides of the creek was dingy and dusty, with the brush +crushed down or gleaned clean for forage and fuel. + +East stretched the wide plains; west was the cottonwood timber marking +the Platte River, and beyond the river, some distance, were bare hills, +grayish and reddish, and behind them the real mountains, rising rocky +and high until their snow crests gleamed against the sky. + +Distant, a line of gold-seekers with wagons and with packs seemed to be +traveling into the mountains; and down along the Platte were entering +Denver, from the north, other gold-seekers, to take their places. + +A hum of voices welled, filling the air with excitement. + +"Shucks! Is this all there is?" complained Terry. "I don't see any +city. The whole thing isn't as big as Manhattan, even." + +"And not half as good-looking," added Harry. + +But there was not much space for halting to criticize. The procession +was pressing on, jostling, crowding--spreading out, some of it to find +camping spots at once, some to drive farther on. With the cart creaking, +and Duke limping badly, Jenny stumbling and grunting, and Shep, dusty +and burry, pacing soberly at the rear, the Pike's Peak Limited entered +Denver City. + +"Hope we see Sol," ventured Harry, as they threaded their way among the +first tents, and several roofless cabins, located out where signs stuck +in the bare ground proclaimed: "Denver City Town Co. Fine building lots +for sale." + +In front of the tent flaps, and in the cabin doorways, men in boots, +with trousers tucked in, and in flannel shirts, red or blue, were +sitting, gazing abroad, but none of these was Sol. + +Further along, the road took on the semblance of a street--thronged with +emigrants; booted, whiskered men in their flannel shirts, and wearing +revolvers; Indians, Mexicans, oxen, and dogs. + +"I don't see Sol, though," commented Terry, searching about among those +faces, every one of which was strange to him. + +"No, but I see plenty of men with buckskin patches on their breeches," +answered Harry. "They're the old-timers, I reckon. Wonder if the name of +any of 'em is Russell." + +The passage of the half-buffalo and the yellow mule hitched tandem +attracted considerable attention, and a volley of bantering remarks. But +a chorus of whoops and a general rush made Harry and Terry glance +behind. + +"A stage is coming. We'd better get out of the way, hadn't we?" +suggested Terry. + +"Right-o!" And Harry, driving, drew aside to a clear place opposite a +long one-story canvas-roofed log building which announced: "Denver +House." This was the hotel. + +The stage jingled up; and while the passengers piled out was surrounded +by a jostling crowd of whiskered, red-shirted and blue-shirted and +buckskin-shirted (as well as buckskin-patched) residents. + +As it rolled away again, to put up for the night, Terry heard himself +and Harry hailed by a familiar voice, at last. + +"Well, I declare! Got through, did you--buffalo and mule and dog and +all! What kind of a trip did you have?" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +NOW WHERE IS THE "ELEPHANT"? + + +It was Journalist Villard, tanned and whiskered, and already booted and +shirted and armed like the rest of the inhabitants. He shook hands +vigorously with them. + +"Pretty fair," replied Harry. "We've just got in. You seem to be the +only person we know here." + +"I won't be that only person long," laughed Mr. Villard. "The ends of +the world are gathering here at the rate of a thousand a day. Why, by +that very stage arrived a banker I used to know well in Cincinnati, and +another friend at whose house in New York I've often eaten dinner. But +the reason I met the stage was that I rather expected to find in it +Horace Greeley and A. D. Richardson. They're on the way." + +"Not Horace Greeley of the New York _Tribune_?" queried Harry, as if +astonished. + +"Yes; that's the Greeley. Mr. Richardson represents the Boston _Journal_ +and some other Eastern papers. All we newspaper fellows will write the +truth about the gold fields." + +"How near is the gold?" eagerly asked Terry. "Can you show us where to +dig? Have you dug?" + +"Not very much. Not for a dollar and a half a day--and that's the most +anybody is getting hereabouts. The whole creek bed is being turned +upside down. But you see that line of pilgrims trailing out into the +mountains, west across the Platte?" + +"Yes." + +"That's a rush to some new diggin's. They're following a new strike. +It's reported on good authority that a Georgian named John Gregory has +found the mother vein, as they call it, about forty miles out. It's a +pound-a-day strike, according to the say, and the gold down below has +been washed from that vein. The people are flocking in by the five +hundred at a time. I haven't been up there myself yet, but I hope the +news is true. Another month and we'd have had a riot in these Cherry +Creek diggin's. As it is, about half the in-comers have pulled out for +California, or home--and there's been talk of hanging D. C. Oakes, who +issued a 'Pike's Peak Guide' last winter, and Editor Byers, of the +_News_." + +"Are those new diggin's on the Platte?" asked Harry, keenly. + +"No. There're up Clear Creek, and nowhere near the Platte." + +"Oh, jiminy!" sighed Terry. "Aren't there mines closer than that? My +father was out here last summer and found one just a few miles away, up +the Platte River." + +"A Fifty-eighter, is he? Is he here now, and where's his mine?" + +"No, sir; he came home sick, at Christmas; and he doesn't remember. But +he had some dust." + +"Those early claims didn't amount to much, as I understand," stated Mr. +Villard. "That's what has fooled the people." + +"Are any of the Russell brothers hereabouts?" asked Harry. + +"The original boomers? Yes, they're all here now. Dr. Levi Russell has +spent the winter here; but Green Russell and J. Oliver have just got in +from Georgia with another party of some one hundred and fifty. You'll +find them over at Auraria, though. You know, Green Russell located +Auraria and named it for his home town in Georgia. The Aurarians and +Denverites don't mix much, except when the stage comes. The Russells +will likely be at the Eldorado Hotel this evening." + +"And where's Archie Smith? Did you bring him through all right?" + +"Yes. We landed him here. But I think he's joined the rush into the +mountains. What are you boys intending to do now? Camp and refit, I +suppose, before you look for your mine. Which are you going to +be--Denverites or Aurarians?" + +"Both," laughed Harry. "But Auraria's flying the United States flag, I +see." + +"That's over their hotel, the Eldorado. Mrs. Murat made it. Her husband +claims to be an Italian count. He does barbering, and she takes in +washing--and together, at the prices they charge, they're getting rich a +great deal faster than most of these gold-seekers. Auraria's proud of +that flag, because it's the only one in the state. Denver pretends to +poke fun at it, and says it's a laundry sign, manufactured from old red +and blue shirts and Mrs. Murat's white petticoat." + +"What state?" demanded Harry. + +"The new State of Jefferson--the future new state. Things move fast out +here. A convention was held last month by the miners, to organize for +another convention on June 8 when a state constitution will be adopted +and sent to Congress. Some people wanted the state named Pike's Peak. +You'll see the convention call in the _Rocky Mountain News_. Ah----!" +and Mr. Villard gazed aside. "There's a man I ought to talk with. +Good-bye; meet you later, I hope." + +"I don't believe we'll wait for that convention," proposed Harry. "And I +don't believe we ought to put in much time hunting for your father's +mine. We'll get right into the new diggin's before every spot's taken." +Harry evidently was catching the fever. "First, though----" + +"Paper? _Rocky Mountain News!_ Fresh off the press! Buy a paper, Mister? +Tell you all about the latest strikes, and where to go." + +He was a very slim, tall young man whose trousers were finished off +below the knees with gunny sacking, in order to cover his long legs. + +"Yes. Let me have one," responded Harry. And added, to Terry, while +handing out a dime: "That'll give us the quickest information." + +The tall slim young man was turning the dime over and over in his palm. + +"No good," he said. "Nothing less than a quarter goes, out here." + +"But they told us picks and spades are fifteen cents." + +"In trade, maybe. But these papers are a quarter, Mister. Two bits. +That's the smallest change in camp. Dust or coin." + +"Hum!" grunted Harry, producing a quarter. He scratched his nose as he +glanced at the paper. "At this rate we'll soon be busted." + +The paper was entitled "_Rocky Mountain News_, Cherry Creek, K. T."--the +initials standing, of course, for Kansas Territory. W. N. Byers was +proprietor. It was printed on a coarse brownish paper--seemed to be full +of items about gold being brought in from "gulches"--a number of +advertisements and announcements--had the convention call-- + +"We'll read it in camp," quoth Harry. "Gwan, Duke! Jenny! Haw!" + +"Want to sell that buffalo, stranger?" interrupted another voice. + +This man was a square, stubbly faced, red-faced and red-haired +individual, in a faded cotton shirt and old army trousers belted at the +waist with a rope. + +"Why--I don't know," replied Harry, reflectively, scratching his nose. + +The man walked around Duke, scrutinizing him. + +"He's got a buckskin patch on. We'd better watch out," whispered Terry, +to his partner. So he had: the whole seat of his trousers was buckskin +coarsely stitched in place. + +"Half the men in camp have buckskin or other patches," chuckled Harry. +"That gives me an idea." + +"Offer you $25, dust, stranger," abruptly spoke the man. "He's lame. You +can't use him. He'll be no good in the diggin's." + +"What'll you do with him, then?" questioned Harry. + +"Put him in my show. He won't have to work. And he's too tough for +butchering. But he'll be all right on exhibition." + +"Hum!" mused Harry. "My partner and I'll talk it over. We're going to +camp over night before going on." + +"If you're aiming for the mountains, you'll have to leave him, anyway. +The trail is straight up--takes twenty oxen to haul half a ton. I'll +give you $35, dust, for buffalo and cart. I'll exhibit 'em both." + +"We'll talk it over," repeated Harry. + +"So long, then. You can find me. Name of Reilly." + +"What do you say, Terry?" queried Harry, as they continued on to a +camping spot. "Duke's yours." + +"No, he's part of the outfit. We're in together, aren't we? But I'd hate +to sell him unless he'll be treated well. Maybe we ought to sell him; +he's lame. Haven't we any money left?" + +"Mighty little. And we're nearly out of grub, too. If newspapers are +twenty-five cents each, what'll a sack of flour cost? I was thinking of +a shave and a hair-cut, but----! I'll shave myself and we'll cut each +other's hair." + +"If that mine is somewhere around yet, we may not have to sell him." + +"And we'll need the cart to pack our gold in," added Harry. "But Duke +and the cart wouldn't be much good up in the mountains, I should think." + +They were fortunate in finding a camping place, with wood and water, +near the mouth of Cherry Creek, at the Platte, and there tied Duke and +Jenny out. The first thing to do was to wash--the next thing to write +home--and the next, to have an early supper. + +"We'll go back in before the post-office closes, look for some of the +Russells, and do all that we can; and be ready to start right along +somewhere or other in the morning." + +"That's it," agreed Terry. "Whew, but there must be a lot of people +hunting gold. Wonder if all of those on that trail are bound for the +Gregory diggin's! We'll have to hurry." For he was getting the fever, +too. + +"We will," promised Harry. + +When they had left Shep on guard and had hastened back into Denver, a +line of men extended for one hundred yards from the window in the stage +office labeled "Letter Express." Harry stood in the line until almost +sunset. He returned to Terry with puzzled face. + +"We got a letter, all right, but it cost twenty-five cents extra, and +the one I mailed cost another twenty-five cents, just up to Fort Laramie +on the North Platte. Then the government takes it on. There's only a +private express out of here, for mail, and it's doing a great business." + +However, that letter from the Big Blue was worth the twenty-five cents. + +Now, with the approach of night, Denver and Auraria, its neighbor, were +lively. The Denver House hotel seemed to be devoted mainly to drinking +and gambling. The long bar was crowded with all sorts of people; and +behind the card tables sat men, some of them in white silk shirts and +black broadcloth suits, urging bets. + +Across the street was a collection of Indian tepees--an Arapahoe +village, according to report. The women and children stayed among the +lodges, but their husbands and fathers strolled everywhere, in blankets +and buffalo robes, saying little and seeing much. + +"There's Chief Little Raven--and Left Hand, too!" exclaimed Terry. "Wait +a second. I'm going to ask them about Thunder Horse." + +Little Raven and Left Hand soberly shook hands with their former +acquaintances. + +"Thunder Horse he dead from his leg," explained Left Hand. "Dog bite +poison him--mebbe he poison dog. Whiskey bad, make him fool. One day he +die; the two foolish men who run away in that wagon take him on in wagon +and sell him same day to one big-mouth man near the Republican trail. +Now his head is in Aurary. You want to see?" + +"Pine Knot Ike's come!" asserted Terry, as he and Harry proceeded to +Auraria, whither they were bound anyway. "I don't want to see him." + +"I'd a heap rather see Sol," answered Harry. "But we'll try to see the +Russells. That's important." + +The creek was so nearly dry that several tents and log shacks had been +placed in its sandy bed. The banks were about four feet high here, and +a shaky log foot-bridge crossed from town to town. + +Auraria was larger than Denver City, but the buildings were rougher, +whereas the Denver City logs had been surfaced and trimmed. Still, +Auraria seemed to have the principal store building, as yet--a story and +a half high, with a lumber roof. The upper floor was occupied by the +_Rocky Mountain News_. Through the glass window the printers might be +seen setting type. Under them was a noisy saloon. + +Miners, emigrants, Mexicans, Indians--flannel shirts, heavy boots, +moccasins, much whiskers and long hair: in this respect the Auraria out +of doors was like the Denver out of doors. + +"I hear Ike," said Terry. + +At the corner just beyond the Eldorado Hotel somebody stationed beside a +flaring pitchy torch was declaiming in a loud voice, before a large +tent. But it wasn't Pine Knot Ike. It was the red-headed Mr. Reilly. On +a placard across the tent front was the announcement, rudely charcoaled: + + "SEE IT! SEE IT! SEE IT! + The Ferocious Head of Chief Bloody Knife! + Cannibal of the Plains! + Slain in Hand-to-Hand Conflict by the Noted + Frontiersman Black Panther! + Admission 50c gold." + +Evidently this was the show to which Mr. Reilly had referred. Standing +on a barrel, and occasionally coughing from the smoke of the torch +fastened to an upright against the barrel, he strenuously invited the +public inside. He accepted the price, and waved each patron to pass +within. However, business was not at all brisk; and suddenly catching +the eye of Harry, he beckoned. + +"Go inside, gentlemen," he bade. "It's my treat. Walk in; view the +ferocious cannibal head and the equally ferocious scout who cut it off +after killing the wearer of it." + +"Aw----!" attempted Terry; but Harry, with a nudge, interrupted him. + +"Go on in, Terry. I'll talk with Mr. Reilly a minute." + +The tent contained several whiskered, booted miners and emigrants, +gazing at the hideous head of Thunder Horse, also on a barrel--Ike's +barrel--and on a stool beside the barrel was seated Ike himself, alias +the "noted frontiersman, Black Panther." Ike's thick black hair and +whiskers were shaggier than ever. He was attired in the same greasy +slouch hat, but furthermore in a shabby, red-flannel-trimmed buckskin +shirt whose gaudy fringes fell to his boot-tops. Around his waist were +belted two revolvers and a butcher-knife, and against his knees rested a +battered, large-muzzled yager or smooth-bore musket--fortunately +harmless by reason of lacking a trigger. + +From amidst his hair and whiskers Ike stared before him fiercely and +fixedly, occasionally slowly blinking in the light of a tallow candle +lantern. + +It all was so perfectly absurd that--but hold on! Look out! Bang! Bang! +Without a word a red-shirted miner who had been intently gazing and +swaying as if drunk had whipped out his revolver and fired. At the first +shot, away spun the head, and simultaneously with the second shot away, +uttering a loud shout, had dived Black Panther the noted +frontiersman--half through the tent and half under the tent, +disappearing while almost tumbling the canvas on top of the company. He +was gone before his stool had ceased rolling. + +"Set 'em up ag'in!" roared the red-shirted miner. "Fetch on the rest o' +that Injun! Whoop-ee! Whar's that air Panther man? I want to show him +some shootin'! I'm an Injun killer myself from Pike County, Missoury!" + +Into the tent, now filled with shouts and laughter and powder smoke, +rushed Mr. Reilly, close followed by the alarmed Harry. The miner's +friends led him out. Mr. Reilly picked up the head, which, weathered as +hard and as dry as a mummy's head, now was drilled right through from +nose to back of skull--which did not improve its face any. But Mr. +Reilly seemed delighted. + +"That bullet hole's the best thing yet," he declared. "I'll have to +change the name of the scout to Dead-Shot Bill. But wait till I ketch +that other man--the measley rabbit, ripping my tent to pieces and +disgracing the clothes I lent him. How'd one of you boys like to be +Dead-Shot Bill, for a spell?" + +"Nope, thank you," laughed Harry. "Come on, Terry. We've got more +business to 'tend to." + +"Well, we can sell him the cart and Duke for $50," informed Harry, +outside. "He's getting together a show. It will be a soft job for Duke; +no heavy hauling, just standing 'round and eating and looking wild." + +"I wouldn't sell him Duke if Ike's to be in the show, too," declared +Terry. + +"Ike," assured Harry, "will never be back. He's probably running yet. +And maybe we won't have to sell Duke. Now for the Russells, anyway. +We'll try the Eldorado." + +But they were relieved from entering the crowded Eldorado by +encountering Journalist Villard and another man just stepping out. + +"Ah!" spoke Mr. Villard, recognizing them, in the dusk. "If you wish to +ask Mr. Green Russell anything, here he is." + +"Yes; we want to ask him if he remembers a man in his party of last +summer by the name of Jones," said Harry, quickly, for it was apparent +that Messrs. Villard and Russell were in a hurry. + +"I shorely do," responded Mr. Russell. He was a broad-shouldered man, +with sparse beard and long-pointed moustache--had a cool eye and a +deliberate speech. + +"He is this boy's father," continued Harry. "He came home with some dust +and claimed to have located a mine about a day's travel from here, on +the Platte." + +"If that was Fifty-eight, 'tain't wuth looking after now," decided Mr. +Russell. "Too close in. I reckon it was yonder whar we had some dry +diggin's that we-all worked out, 'round Placer Camp." + +"Captain Russell's an old miner, you know," put in Mr. Villard. "He's +prospected through here pretty closely, since he came out first, and so +have his brothers; and they're convinced that the only paying mines will +be found in the mountains." + +"Yes," drawled Mr. Russell. "These hyar sandy creeks peter out. You have +to get up higher, into the gravel and rock." + +He and Mr. Villard passed on, only to be repeatedly stopped and +questioned in their progress. + +"That settles us, I think," said Harry, as he and Terry turned for their +camp. "We'll pack Jenny and light out for the Gregory Gulch region. +We've got to have a mine ready for your father when he comes, so as to +pay him back the 'grub-stake.'" + +"And another ready for George to work," reminded Terry. "He'll expect an +elephant, too." + +As the two partners recrossed the foot-bridge into Denver City, night +had cloaked the mountains in the west and had enfolded all the plains. +Down here lights flickered in tents and through the chinking of +windowless, floorless and sometimes roofless cabins, twinkled among the +other gold-seekers' camps spread over the broken brush, and on the +trails in north and south and yonder for Gregory Gulch. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FORWARD MARCH TO GREGORY GULCH + + +"What'll we do with all our gunny sacks?" queried Terry, when after an +early breakfast they drove across for Auraria, to deliver Duke and the +cart and make their purchases. + +"They don't weigh much, but they take up a lot of room. I have a scheme, +though," answered Harry. + +Early as they were, the emigrant camps on the plain, and Denver City and +Auraria in the midst, were astir: smoke was welling from camp-fires and +chimneys, shouts and calls arose as outfits prepared to journey onward, +people were moving busily, and the procession beyond the Platte was +wending in a long file mountain-ward. + +Already another announcement was displayed on Mr. Reilly's show tent. +"Also (it said) the Only Genuine Wild Buffalo Now in Captivity, and the +Identical Wagon That He Drew Across the Plains." + +Mr. Reilly was working on the first announcement, to make it read, "The +Bullet-Pierced Head of the Ferocious Chief Bloody Knife," and to change +the frontiersman's name from "Black Panther" to "Dead-Shot Bill." + +"It's a pity one of you fellers won't hire out to be my scout," he +proffered. "'Tother one might take in the tickets at the door. I got the +shirt and weepon back from that man Ike, but he won't work again. +Anyhow, you can unhitch and help me get that buffalo inside this tent, +out of sight. We'll tie him to a stake, and roll the wagon in +afterward." + +This was done, after the flaps had been thrown wide. Duke limped in +rather gladly, was stationed at the far end beside the head of the late +Thunder Horse, and the wagon, unloaded of its few goods, was pushed and +pulled to another position. + +"You might stay with Jenny and the stuff, while I do our marketing," +proposed Harry to Terry, as he shouldered the big roll of gunny sacks, +for some mysterious purpose, and lugged it away. + +He disappeared in the doorway of the store under the _News_ office. +Jenny hee-hawed after him. She missed him and Duke. + +Harry soon returned jubilant, without the sacks. + +"All right. We're fixed," he proclaimed. "I traded them in for a sack of +dried apples. The man didn't appreciate their value, at first, but I +explained. Value No. 1: Most of the cabins hereabouts have only dirt +floors; the sacking will be fine for carpets to keep the dust down. +Value No. 2: It will be handy for covering windows, to keep out the +wind. Value No. 3: It will be useful to patch pants with, instead of +buckskin. Value No. 4: It will lengthen pants--in fact, the pants of +that _Rocky Mountain News_ peddler gave me the idea. Value No. 5: It +will make good ticking for straw mattresses. To tell the truth, it is +so valuable that I wouldn't part with any of it except for dried apples. +Now we can have pie!" + +They bestowed on Duke and the cart a friendly good-luck slap, shook +hands with Mr. Reilly, and proceeded to the store with Jenny. The +purchases amounted to considerable. First, a pack-saddle, not brand new, +but of ash and rawhide in excellent condition; a sack of flour, the sack +of dried apples, a quarter of antelope meat--the only cheap meat, at +four cents a pound; five pounds of coffee (very dear), soda, salt, +sugar, soap, a square of rawhide for soling their boots, two miner's +pans for washing out the gold, etc., etc. + +These, with the picks and spades, and the bedding, and the cooking and +eating utensils made quite a problem. No wonder that Jenny groaned when +the saddle was cinched upon her. + +However, with her pack bulging on either side and atop, the tools +projecting and the cooking utensils jingling, she accepted her fate, and +stepping in cautious, top-heavy fashion submitted to being headed out of +town into the trail for the Platte River crossing. + +Terry, the shot-gun upon his shoulder, and Harry, shouldering a pick and +spade that had not fitted anywhere, followed close after. So did Shep, +who carried nothing but his shaggy coat. On the whole, no one could deny +that this was a real prospecting outfit. + +"Forty miles, they say, to those Gregory diggin's," remarked Harry. +"Wonder if they mean forty or four hundred? You see that flat-top +mountain--the first mountain in the northwest? How far do you think it +is?" + +"Five miles," asserted Terry. + +"Well, it's _eighteen_ miles! They call it Table Mountain. That's where +we go in. So when a fellow's looking five miles, in this country, he's +looking eighteen, and that makes forty miles about one hundred and +fifty." + +The trail was becoming crowded as other outfits converged from the right +and left for the Platte crossing. It was a procession much like the +procession on the Pike's Peak trails--oxen, horses, mules, cows, dogs, +wagons; and men, women and children either afoot or riding. But there +were more men with packs on their backs and more animals packed like +Jenny. + +The long-legged Jenny, her pack swaying and jingling, could be urged +past the slower travelers--and well that was, for ere the Platte was +reached, the wagons in the procession had stopped. They formed a waiting +line several hundred yards in length. Forging to the front, Terry and +Harry might see the occasion. The Platte evidently was to be crossed by +means of a flat-boat ferry, running back and forth on a cable. So the +wagons need must bide their turn. + +Harry went forward to investigate. He came back with a rueful face. + +"Two dollars and a half for a wagon outfit; a dollar and a half for our +outfit," he reported. "The ferry's run by a couple of Indian traders +named McGaa and Smith. Wonder if we can't ford." + +"Nary ford, this time o' year, strangers," reproved a red-shirted +miner. "See those wagons; they'll be out o' sight by noon! Quicksand!" + +Several wagons foolishly had tried to ford; and there they were, +abandoned, some of them even only a few rods out. Already just the tops +of two were visible above the surface. + +"Guess we won't risk it," agreed Terry. + +So they paid their fee, and squeezing in aboard the ferry, were carried +across. + +The trail continued, entering amidst low rolling swells of sandy gravel +and sparse, tufty grass and stiff brush, between which and over and on +toiled the pilgrimage for the new diggin's where one John Gregory and +others were harvesting their pound of gold a day. The Gregory claim was +said to be so marvelously rich and yellow that no strangers had been +permitted to see it. + +From the high places glimpses were given, on the right, of a creek +course below, bordered by willows and cottonwoods. This was that Clear +Creek on whose headwaters in the mountains the Gregory strike had been +made. But the landmark of Table Mountain drew near so gradually, in +spite of the haste by everybody, that not until evening did it loom +close at hand, shadowed with purple and rising a wall-like six hundred +feet. + +Here the trail ran along Clear Creek itself, and the procession was +halting for night camp, to water and graze the animals and to rest. On +both sides of the creek prospectors had settled, to wash out gold; but +now the most of them had quit work and in front of their tents and +bough lean-tos were preparing supper. + +"Better stop off, boys," warned a hairy miner, who, squatting over a +little fire, was deftly cooking flap-jacks--tossing them one by one from +a fry-pan into the air and catching them other side down. "You can't go +much farther till mornin'. There's a trail ahead so steep your mule'll +have to turn over an' prop herself with her ears to keep from slidin' +backwards." + +"Sounds like good advice," accepted Harry. "You going on in, or are you +making your pile here?" + +"Makin' a pile o' flap-jacks, if those hungry partners don't eat 'em +faster'n I can cook. Yep, we're goin' on somewhere, if this creek +doesn't pan out better. We've been followin' the gold all the way from +Pike's Peak an' the Boilin' Springs, an' the best diggin's alluz seem +forty miles ahead." + +"Where are the Boiling Springs?" asked Terry. "Do they boil?" + +"Haven't you heard o' them yet? They're down at the foot o' +Pike's--tremenjous good water, sody an' iron both an' a lot o' other +minerals, I reckon; bubblin' an' poppin', an' liable to cure anything. +Sacred to the Injun, they were, but they're powerful good for white +man." + +Jenny, her pack removed, took a hearty roll, and a shake, and a long +cold drink, and fell to browsing. Terry built a fire and prepared camp; +Harry got out their own fry-pan and the coffee pot, and while the water +in the pot was coming to a boil he proceeded to mix batter. + +"What'll it be?" queried Terry, hungry. + +"Flap-jacks." + +"I didn't know you could make them." + +"I didn't, either, to date. But I can." + +The first flap-jack stuck confoundingly, and would not turn at all +except by pieces. So it burned, and they gave it to Shep. The next +sailed free and high, and landed, dough side down, in Terry's lap. Terry +started to laugh, but changed his tune and frantically tore the hot +dough loose, then executed a war-dance while he sucked his fingers. + +"Too much flap," commented Harry. "Once again." + +This flap-jack flew straight for his face and he ducked only just in +time to prevent being plastered. + +"Everything goes to Shep," he complained. "I can make 'em, all right, +but I haven't the knack of turning 'em." + +"You can shout there's a knack, Mister," agreed the other flap-jack +performer, who now had stepped over to watch. "You'll not be a true +miner till you can toss a flap-jack up the cabin chimbley an' ketch it +again outside, turned over. Where you boys from?" + +"Blue River Valley, Kansas. We were the Pike's Peak Limited; now we're +the Extra Limited," explained Harry. + +"The Russell brothers are somewhar in this hyar procession, aren't +they?" + +"Are they? All of them?" + +"So I heard tell. They left Aurary today, for the new diggin's." + +"Are the Gregory diggin's full of gold?" eagerly invited Terry. + +"Mebbe so, for people who know how to find it. Trouble is, this +country's fuller of people who don't know how to find it." + +He went back to his own fire. Harry turned the rest of the flap-jacks +with a knife, and they were very good. He really had become an excellent +camp cook. + +"Jiminy! Wish we could see Sol Judy at the diggin's," voiced Terry. "He +knows all about gold. He was in California." + +"Yes, Sol knows gold, and I have an idea we don't," answered Harry, with +sober reflection. + +"I suppose when we see something yellow we'll save it," hazarded Terry, +more hopefully. + +Forward, march, with morning light, to Gregory Gulch! Clear Creek had to +be forded; and while, soaked to the knees, they trudged on behind the +shambling Jenny, and Terry was wondering how they were to climb Table +Mountain, the trail left the creek, veered to the right, and traversed a +deep narrow gulch whose rocky bottom, scored by wagon-tires, made rough +going. + +"Great Cæsar's ghost!" uttered Harry, as they rounded a shoulder. + +High above them, before, was a portion of the procession: wagons, +animals, and people, far aloft, zig-zagging up a mountainside by another +trail (or was it the same trail?), clinging for footholds and every now +and then pausing as if to breathe. + +Several of the wagons were drawn by eight and ten yoke of oxen; several +of the wagons with one and two yoke were apparently stuck fast; teams +and people alike--particularly the pack animals and the people carrying +packs--seemed to be having all they could do to advance yard by yard. +Wagons also were descending, and raising immense clouds of dust. + +"Do we go up there?" protested Terry. + +"I guess," decided Harry, "that's where Jenny props herself with her +ears." + +Yes, the start of the climb was only a short distance ahead. The canyon +almost closed, and at a sharp angle the trail zigzagged right up the +steep flank of the mountain--not Table Mountain, but another, higher. + +Jenny pricked forward her long ears, in inquiring fashion, and halted of +her own accord to survey. Here at the base of the mountain other outfits +likewise had halted: wagons unloading, or waiting for teams to return +and help them up; pack animals having their packs readjusted; foot +travelers sitting and resting while gazing upward. + +The wagons descending were dragging behind them huge boughs, as brakes. +These boughs raised the dust. From the zigzag the grinding of iron +tires, the popping of whips and the shouting of drivers echoed +incessantly. + +Along the line in the canyon welled a cheer; and accompanying it there +forged past, for the climb, a large party who must have numbered one +hundred and fifty, mostly men. They were well equipped with horses, +oxen, wagons and pack mules. Two men rode confidently in the lead. One +was Captain William Green Russell; the other looked a little like him, +but had whiskers that flowed down upon his chest. A third man, who +looked a little like both, but whose whiskers flowed clear to his +saddle-horn, brought up the rear. + +"The Russells!" + +"Those are the Russell brothers and their party!" + +The man who rode beside Captain Green Russell was said to be Dr. Levi J. +Russell. The long-whiskered man at the rear was the other brother, J. +Oliver Russell. + +On and up toiled the Russell company, bound for the Gregory diggin's; +and encouraged by the sight, the halted procession bestirred to follow. + +"Jenny," appealed Harry, "are you good for it, if Terry and I shove?" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +RICH AT LAST! + + +Up, up, up, with Jenny digging in her toes, snorting and puffing and +picking her way over the roughness of the worn rocks. Occasionally there +was a brief level spot where one might stop and pant and rest. Indeed, +this was a hard trail for anybody, man or beast, and Terry felt +considerable sympathy for the laboring ox-teams and the straining horses +that drew the jolting, groaning wagons. + +The outfits descending seemed to have almost as difficult a time, for +the wagons, their heavy brake-shoes smoking and their boughs dragged +behind, enveloping them in dust, threatened to run over the teams. + +But it was a stirring scene, although whether any of the people coming +down were bringing gold could not be learned amidst such racket and +confusion. + +Part way up another friend was encountered. He was the wheel-barrow man, +halted to breathe so as to be able to push his barrow to the next +resting place. + +"Tough sledding," he wheezed, as he sat upon his barrow handles and +wiped his brow with a bandanna handkerchief. "Wust yet, but I'm bound to +get there." + +They left the wheel-barrow man behind. At every turn they expected to +see the summit beyond, but the climb required over an hour and a half of +steady work. + +Here, on the top, they were high above Table Mountain. + +"Whew!" gasped Harry. The top was flat, and they drew aside, while they +rested. Everybody halted here to rest. It was a fine view. Down below, +whence they had come, was the trail, with other outfits zig-zagging up; +and farther was the trail along Clear Creek, and farther, the Platte +River; and farther, the plains, and Cherry Creek, and Denver and +Auraria, all wonderfully sharp in the perfectly transparent air. The +people at the foot of the trail and beyond looked like pigmies, and the +wagons like toys. + +Before, the trail stretched across the mountain top and appeared to aim +straight into a tremendous wild country of much higher mountains, +timbered with evergreens and capped with snow. + +The gold-seeker companies were again starting on. + +"Do we reach Gregory gulch today?" inquired Harry, of a returning party. + +"No, sir; not by a long shot. 'Tisn't any use, anyhow. Every foot of +ground is taken up. There are two thousand people in that gulch already, +and the same in the other gulches. The Gregory folks have the best +claims. Nothing left for us later comers." + +The trail continued to follow a high ridge, amidst pines and bright +flowers and grass; crossed icy cold streams where the ridge dipped; and +by night had arrived nowhere in particular. So camp was made, the +pleasantest camp of the whole trip from the Big Blue valley, because the +air was so fresh and pure, and the water and wood abundant, and the +grass so sweet for Jenny. + +"I reckon we're getting into the Promised Land," hazarded one of the +Extra Limited's neighbors. + +The next noon the mountain divide seemed to have been crossed; for at +one side, far down, was Clear Creek again, like a silver thread +traversing a dark seam that was a canyon. About two miles ahead it +divided, and over the north branch hung a thin bluish film of smoke. The +sounds of ax and hammer and ringing pick--yes, the faint sound of +voices--drifted up. + +Gregory Gulch? That must be it, under the smoke, for the procession was +hastening, and presently down, down, down they all plunged, for the +bottom where the north branch of the creek glimmered. This trail was as +steep as the zigzag trail on the east slope. The wagons used boughs as +drags; oxen and horses held back hard; and Jenny, bracing her forefeet, +slid and pitched and grunted. Faster and faster they all moved--could +not stop--until in twenty minutes they fairly tumbled, one after +another, into the water and the mouth of Gregory Gulch! + +"Well, I should say she was crowded!" exclaimed Harry. + +He and Terry gazed, consternated. Gregory Gulch extended westward from +the North Clear Creek; it was narrow and quite long, and all up and down +the creek and as far as eye could see up the gulch, people were +swarming like bees, while the newly arrived gold-seekers looked on, +bewildered. + +Tents had been erected, cabins were rising, bough lean-tos served as +other shelters; men were feverishly delving with spades, washing out the +dirt in their pans, or dumping dirt and water into wooden boxes that +rocked like cradles; and other men were searching the bottoms and slopes +for vacant spots and there hurriedly driving in stakes. A few women were +in sight--one woman was helping her husband dig; several were sitting in +doorways or trying to tidy their premises. + +No wonder that the newly arrived people were bewildered. Some grew +gloomy at once and discouraged, but some waxed the more excited. + +"First thing is to find a camping spot," proposed Harry, briskly. "And +then to find our mine." + +"How'll we find it?" asked Terry. "Where is the gold? I don't see any." + +"This is Gregory gulch, is it?" queried Harry, of the nearest miner--a +red-headed, red-stubbled little man squatting in mud to his ankles +beside a trickling stream, and twirling a gold-pan. He was muddied all +over his tattered trousers and red shirt, and also to his elbows. + +"It is; at laste it's the Gregory diggin's." He spoke with a strong +Irish brogue. + +"Have you found lots of gold?" invited Terry. + +"Oi? Not a cint, b'gorry--an' here's another empty pan." As if in +disgust the little man straightened up and surveyed them. "But that's +not sayin' Oi won't. Oi've got a foine claim right under me feet. Did +yez jist get in? Would yez like to buy a nice claim?" He eyed them +shrewdly with his twinkling eyes set in his grimy, sweaty face. + +"Not yet, thank you," responded Harry. "Where's the gold?" + +"Gold? Faith, all yez got to do is foind it. Sure, ain't it here in +Gregory gulch, an' don't yez see all the people diggin'? Didn't Gregory +an' five men take out $972 in wan week from their vein, an' afterward +sell for $2,100 an' lend the men who bought it $200 so they could go +ahead?" + +"Where are they? Where is that vein?" + +"Up yonder on the side o' the gulch; but yez can't get annywhere near +it, for the people an' the stakes. They don't want visitors. Jist drive +your stakes where yez can, an' begin work. My name's Pat Casey. What +might yez be called?" + +They told him. + +"Well, Oi'll see yez ag'in, boys," promised Pat, grasping his spade to +refill his pan. "Who knows but in a few days we'll all be rich +together?" + +"All right, Pat," laughed Harry. So they left Pat engaged with his +spade, hoping to strike it with the next pan full. + +They toiled along, eyes alert for a camping spot. A tent bore the sign: +"Groceries for Sail." Another was announced as "Miners' Hotel"--although +where it slept its guests was a problem. Another tent, through the flaps +of which might be glimpsed a woman, stated: "Back East Biscuits." + +Dinner of course was a hurried affair. Other gold-seekers were still +descending the hill and spreading out wherever they could. So no time +was to be lost. They each slung on a gold-pan by means of a thong tied +through a hole in the rim; and with pick and spade (Shep staying to +mount guard) they sallied forth. + +"I reckon," mused Harry, "we'll have to do like the rest do: scout about +and whenever we see a goldish-looking spot, try it out." + +"Dad showed us how to work a gold pan. I don't suppose we've forgotten," +panted Terry, as they hustled. + +"Yes, but he didn't show us how to find the gold," reminded Harry. "We +ought to locate near water." + +For an hour they trudged up and down, and never sunk a spade or tried a +pan. All the creek and all the side streams seemed occupied. Once they +halted and were just about to dig, when a voice bawled: "Get off my +ground!" + +"Excuse me," apologized Harry. The owner of the voice was some distance +away. "Is this your claim?" + +"You bet you! The best claim in the diggin's." + +"How big is a claim?" demanded Harry. + +"Well, a hundred feet by fifty and as much more as I can get. Now +vamoose." + +They "vamoosed." + +"Two thousand people, claiming a hundred feet and as much more as they +can get, doesn't leave much room for the rest of us," sighed Harry. + +"Hello, there!" hailed another voice, more cheery. It was the "Root Hog +or Die" professor. He also was equipped for mining, but he appeared to +be a wanderer like themselves. + +"Have you struck anything?" asked Terry, as soon as they had shaken +hands. + +"Not a sign. Have you?" + +"No. Can't find a place to dig in, even." + +"This prospecting is more of a science than I had thought," confessed +the professor. He looked tired out. "I've been at it since morning. I +had an idea the gold would show on the surface." + +"So did we," admitted Terry. "But the ground all looks alike--just +common dirt!" + +"Yes, even where they're actually washing gold out," said the professor. +"I've seen some gold, though. I saw one miner with a pan that gave about +a dollar and a half, and I saw a clean-up in a sluice that netted eight +dollars." + +"What's a sluice? One of those wooden troughs?" + +"Yes; but lumber for them is hand-sawed and costs a dollar a yard, and +people are asking as high as a thousand dollars for a claim. I believe +it's cheapest to hire somebody to locate a good claim for a fellow. The +Russells and Gregory and some others who have had experience are hiring +themselves out at $100 a day, I understand. There goes Green Russell +now." + +"A hundred dollars a day! Whew!" gasped Terry. + +Captain Green Russell halted in passing. + +"Got here, did you?" he greeted, in friendly fashion. "Made your fortune +yet?" + +"We may be standing on it, for all we know," answered Harry. + +"For all you know, you may," drawled Mr. Russell. "That's the trouble. +The people come in here, like they do at Cherry Creek, and think the +gold shows at grass-roots. But Gregory didn't find his lode by any pure +luck, and the rest of us old-timers are here to teach the folks how, if +they want to learn." + +"Could you put me on a good claim?" inquired the professor, eagerly. + +"Yes, sir; I'll prospect for you at $100 a day. You'd save time and +probably money." + +"All right. I'll go with you and we'll talk it over." And on strode the +professor and his instructor. + +"Hum!" remarked Harry. "The secret of making money is to have something +the other fellow will pay for: sometimes that's goods, and again it's +knowledge." + +The gulch really was a fascinating place. Such a hive of industry--saw +and hammer at work, as well as pick and spade; but amidst it all there +seemed to be no place for the Extra Limited. A general disappointment +was in the air, with so many persons working hard and as yet getting +nothing. + +"We'll travel 'round to Pat," quoth Harry, after a time. "He may have +struck something by this." + +As they approached Pat, he suddenly uttered a loud whoop, and danced a +jig. His neighbors dropped their tools and rushed for him. + +"Sure, Oi'm rich!" cheered Pat. "There's gold in my pan! Hooray! Rich Oi +am. Half o' yez can look at a time till yez all are done, an' the other +halves kape away so yez won't carry off me gold on yez feet." + +Yes, in the bottom of Pat's pan was a trace of yellow, not to speak of a +pebble about the size of a pea which he proclaimed to be gold also. + +Scarcely hearing the congratulations, Pat fell to work again. + +"Jiminy!" protested Terry. "We've got to stake out a claim somewhere, +and have a mine ready for dad and George. Let's go clear up the gulch." + +Pat's success was encouraging, at least. But as up the gulch they went, +the crowd was no thinner, and presently Harry stopped. + +"This pick and shovel weigh a ton," he said. "And so do my feet. I vote +we knock off work, quit locating gold and try to locate supper. First +thing we know it'll be dark and we can't find even Jenny and Shep." + +"W-well," agreed Terry. "And tomorrow we'll start out again early. Wish +I knew just what kind of dirt had the gold in it." + +"That," quoth Harry, "evidently is the secret." + +Scarcely had they turned to retrace their steps when another call hailed +them. Somebody was running for them, from the other side of the gulch. +He was a slim, muddy figure, in boots and trousers much too large for +him, with long hair flapping on his bared head. + +They paused and stared. + +"Aren't you the Pike's Peak Limited fellows?" panted the boy. + +"Why, Archie Smith! Hello, Archie!" + +"I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure." Archie was completely out of +breath, and very red in his thin cheeks. He panted and coughed. "What +are you doing? Prospecting? Have you struck anything? Do you want a +claim?" + +"We're looking 'round. No, we haven't struck anything yet," they +answered. "Have you? How long have you been here?" + +"Do you know of any good place to claim?" added Terry. + +"Yes. And you won't have to drive a stake! When did you get in? Where's +your camp?" + +"Down yonder somewhere. We got in this morning." + +"Gee, but I'm glad to see you," panted Archie. "Hurrah! Let's go to your +camp and move your stuff. What you got? The cart? Didn't buy a tent, did +you?" + +"No. We came in with just the mule. Expect we'll fix up a bough hut till +we strike it rich," explained Terry. + +"No, you needn't. You're to stay on my place. I've got a cabin and a +stove and--and----" here Archie lowered his voice, "boys, I've struck it +rich, myself! I've got the best claim in these diggin's!" + +"You have! How long have you been here?" + +"About two weeks. Come on and I'll tell you about it. Do you know +anything about mining?" + +"No," they confessed, ruefully. + +"I didn't, either," admitted Archie, as together they pressed on for +Jenny and Shep and the packs. "So I bought a claim. There was a man here +who couldn't stay--he had to go down to Denver; and I bought his claim +for only $500. First I'd prospected for myself, and didn't find +anything, and then I came across him just in time. Gee, I was lucky. He +wouldn't have sold, only he was obliged to get out. Of course, I panned +samples of it before I bought, and in the very first pan there was four +dollars' worth of gold! He sold me his cabin and stove and everything. +Boys----" and Archie's voice sank again, "you may not believe it, but +I've already taken out near $80, by myself, and I can't dig very long at +a time, either." + +"How'd you pay for it?" blurted Terry. "Did you have the money with +you?" + +"Yes. Our outfit had put in $200 apiece, for the trip across the plains, +and we'd spent only half, and I carried that because I was treasurer. I +paid for the stage ride from the station, though; but in Denver I worked +at the hotel--and--and I nursed a gambler who was sick, and when he +found out that I'd studied medicine he said I'd saved his life and he +gave me $250 as a doctor's fee. But I'm not a regular doctor yet. Now +you fellows are to come and work the mine. It's named the Golden Prize, +and it's _yours_!" + +Harry stopped short. Terry scarcely could believe his ears. + +"What?" challenged Harry. + +"Aw, get out!" scoffed Terry. + +"But it is," insisted Archie. "I've been just praying that you'd come +along. I didn't really save that gambler's life, though he was right +sick. But you saved mine; and if he thought what I did was worth $250, +I reckon what you did was worth three or four times that because you +risked your lives, too. And anyway, I can't stay. It's too high for me +up here. I lose my breath. I feel a heap better down on the plains, and +I guess I'll go back home for a spell. If I don't give the mine to you +somebody'll jump it. There isn't anybody up here I can trust." + +"But, great Cæsar!" expostulated Harry. "We'll work it, if you want us +to, while you're gone. We won't accept it forever, though." + +"I should say not!" affirmed Terry. "We can find our own claim." + +"No, you can't. The trained miners are the ones who find the best +ground, and you're not trained. All right: you can work it just as if it +were your own, and you can have all you find till I come back." + +"Cracky, but that will make us rich, won't it?" cried Terry. + +"Of course it will. I've taken $80 in four days and I tell you I've just +dug a little bit. It tires me all out to dig; and the water's so far. +But you fellows can put in a sluice--I'll lend you enough dust to buy +boards with, if you haven't enough----" + +"We've got a little, and if we haven't enough we'll dig out more," +declared Harry, quickly. + +"And with a sluice running you can just _pile_ up the yellow!" + +"Whoop-ee!" cheered Terry, wildly. "We're rich at last." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PANNING THE "GOLDEN PRIZE" + + +The Golden Prize property appeared to be a very snug proposition. It was +located about a mile up Gregory Gulch, and right in the midst of things. +There was a good enough dug-out, set partly into the slope at the bottom +of one of the rocky hills in the gulch, with log walls surrounding the +single room and a sod roof. It contained a rusty stove (better than a +fireplace) and a bunk and a slab table and a slab stool, all on a dirt +floor. The cooking utensils were hung on the wall. The door, of split +logs, like puncheons, swung by leather hinges and fastened with a wooden +pin and latch-string. + +But the mine of course was the most important. That was really the first +thing to be inspected. Archie showed it rather proudly, although it did +not look very imposing, being only a deep trench into the hillside just +beyond the cabin. + +Down the shallow side draw that helped to form the hill ran a small +stream of muddy water, which finally joined the main drainage stream, +below. + +"You see," said Archie, "I have to carry all my dirt to that stream so +as to wash for the gold, and, gee! but it's hard work. About breaks my +back. The digging and the climbing up and down are too much for me. A +fellow ought to lead the water nearer, some way." + +"Why didn't you?" asked Terry. + +"I did think of digging a ditch, but that's an awful job, and I'd have +to squat with a gold-pan just the same. I suppose if I'd stayed here I'd +have built a sluice or hired one built. I couldn't build it myself, +because the boards are too heavy to handle. And anyway, I want to go +out. I can't breathe up here. I don't feel as good as when I came in, +and mostly I just sit and puff. I felt lots better down on the plains. +If I can't work the mine, what's the use in having it? But I'd a heap +rather give it to you fellows than sell it to strangers." + +"We won't take it, but we'll work it for you, on shares," again asserted +Harry. + +Archie stubbornly shook his head--and his thin cheeks were crimson. + +"Nope. You can share together but you can't share with me. You work it +and keep all you find; I owe it to you. I'm so tickled I can hardly +see." + +"Where do we begin?" cried Terry, excited. "Which is the best spot, +Archie?" + +"I'll show you in the morning. I'll show you everything," panted Archie, +"before I go. We'll wash out some color, anyway." + +"We'd better get our stuff unpacked before dark, Terry," reminded Harry. +"The mine will keep. We know it's there. Whew, but this is a big stroke +of luck. Doesn't seem as though we'd earned it." + +Dusk settled early in the gulch, and by the time they had stowed their +stuff away, and Jenny had been turned out to browse among the rocks and +pines on the hillside, most of the camps in the gulch had ceased their +work of the day and had changed to the work of the evening. Smoke was +welling from chimneys and from open fires, far and near; wood was being +chopped and men and women were cooking. The gulch suddenly seemed +cheerful and homelike: a miraculous contrast with the dark timber rising +above on all sides, where the wild animals, bear and bobcats and elk and +wolves, probably sniffed in astonishment. + +Harry made a big batch of flap-jacks and a pot of coffee; Shep curled in +a corner and snuggled for comfortable sleep; the air outside was chill, +but within was warm, and a candle that Archie produced gave light enough +to eat by. + +Archie was awarded the bunk, for a good rest. Harry and Terry spread +their beds on the floor. They were used to sleeping on the ground, but +Terry found it hard to go to sleep. He wanted to talk--he fairly itched +to be out with spade and pan, digging gold from "their" mine. Think of +it! A mine, a genuine gold mine, at last! Now they could pay his father +back easy, and also show him and George how to get rich. + +"I know how you feel," said Archie, from the bunk. "They say that when +Gregory discovered his lode after tracing it for miles, and found four +dollars in his first pan, he kept his partner awake till three o'clock +in the morning, talking, and he was still talking at breakfast time." + +"Wonder how he discovered it," hazarded Terry. + +"He just started in on lower Clear Creek, at the Platte, and kept +panning, and panning, on up, until above this gulch the gold quit. Then +he turned into this gulch, because it seemed to yield the most color, +and the gold was the coarsest, and he kept panning and panning until the +color quit again. Then he knew he'd come to the place where the gold +below was washed from. So he went back to the Platte and got a partner; +and they sized up the natural lay of the gulch, at the highest spot +where the color had quit--and they struck rich diggin's with the very +first spadeful. That was the sixth of May. After they'd located a lot of +ground for themselves and their friends the news got out, and now look +at the mob!" + +"Well, I'll bet we've got something just as good," declared Terry, +confidently. + +Immediately after a hurried breakfast they started in to pan their own +claim, under the direction of Archie. + +"I've always found the most gold in that spot there," he instructed. +"There was another spot, where I panned first, but it's quit on me. +Expect, though, you'll find a lot of 'em. Let's dig and try out some of +the dirt in our pans." + +Into the spot Terry plunged the spade. The dirt was gravelly and +soft--two strokes of the blade were more than enough to loosen +sufficient for the three pans. The pans were sheet-iron and about the +size and shape of a large milk-pan. In a moment they three were trailing +down to the little creek, each with some two inches of the dirt in the +bottom of his pan. They squatted to fill the pans with water, and +carefully twirled to slop it out again along with the dirt that ought to +float off. + +This was an anxious process. Archie finished first, because he was in +practice. + +"I didn't get anything this time," he announced, gaily. "But I don't +care. I'm going out." + +Terry's dirt had practically all flowed off. He picked out the bits of +gravel--they were only pebbles and flakes of rock. He peered for +yellow--yes, there it was! A glint mingled with a seam of coarse sand. + +"I've got some!" he yelled. "See here? I've got some!" + +Archie looked in. + +"That's right. Let me finish it for you. I'll flirt that sand out." + +So he did, with a dexterous twirl that sent part of the sand out and the +rest against the sides, and left the heavier yellow in the middle. + +"Reckon I've landed a little, myself," remarked Harry. + +He had! Perhaps a trifle more than Terry, and the two pans together +weren't enough to cover the point of the knife-blade with which they +scraped the yellow up and carefully deposited it in Father Richards' old +buckskin bag, brought for the purpose. + +"Gold's worth $21 an ounce and that's about a pennyweight, I guess," +encouraged Archie. "Ninety cents--but it's a beginning. Of course, where +you dug I'd been digging before. You'll find a better place. You see, +I've already taken out $80. So go ahead and keep panning, and I'll +travel." + +Archie had arranged to leave with a wagon outfit who were disgusted +because they'd discovered nothing. The two new proprietors of the Golden +Prize stopped operations long enough to bid him good-bye, and watch him +trudge away, his pack on his back. + +"When you want some of your gold, come back or let us know," called +Harry, after. + +"It's all yours," he retorted. "That's why I bought the mine." + +"Jiminy!" exclaimed Terry. "That's big pay for what little we did--just +giving him a drink of water and toting him in a cart." + +The next few pans didn't yield anything at all; then Harry made a +"strike," as he called it, and scraped out as much yellow as would cover +a finger-nail. He'd got the dirt from a new spot, "for luck," and from +the same spot Terry managed to extract about as much. + +"We'll have to try about," counseled Harry, "until we find spots like +those of Archie's. We've got a lot of space yet." + +As Archie had said, this digging and panning was hard work. At every +stroke the spades clinked against rock--a boulder or a ledge--and to +chip away with a pick was about as bad. And then, to trudge back and +forth with the pans! But Harry hit upon the idea of dumping the dirt +upon a piece of gunny sacking and thus carrying several spadesful at a +time, to be panned. + +They scarcely stopped for dinner, and by evening had greatly widened the +trench. When they knocked off for supper and sleep the buckskin sack +was apparently as flat and as light as in the early morning, and they +were mud from soles to waist. But nevertheless, the sack contained gold! +Peeking in, one might see it! + +"We'll have to get a pair of scales," proclaimed Harry. "And we'll have +to go about this more scientifically. Panning's too slow." + +"How much did we find, do you think?" invited Terry. + +"Five dollars' worth, maybe--and we're hungry enough to eat five +dollars' worth of grub. But that's all right. We're just starting in, +and we own all the ground from the cabin to that little creek, and from +half-way up the hill down to the bottom. Hooray!" He grabbed Terry and +they war-danced, while Shep barked gladly. + +"I'd rather dig gold than potatoes, wouldn't you, now?" demanded Terry. +"We're liable to make a hundred dollars 'most any day. We haven't done +much more than scratch." + +"What do you want for supper?" asked Harry. "Let's celebrate with +antelope steak and apple pie." + +"Sure!" cheered Terry. "We don't have to save on grub." + +They were sitting down, on the stool and the edge of the bunk, to a +sumptuous supper, when a step and a grunting sounded outside, Shep +growled, and into the half-open doorway was thrust an inquiring face. It +was the red face of Pat Casey. + +"Good evenin' to yez," he proffered, blinking. + +"Come in, come in. Glad to see you. Sit and have a bite." And Harry +changed from the stool to the bunk-edge beside Terry. + +Pat, muddy like everybody else, clumped in, agrin. + +"Sure, Oi've had my supper, but Oi'll set a bit," he answered. "Oi've +been a-lookin' for yez. An' are yez at home already?" + +"Yes, sir-ee," pronounced Harry, triumphantly. "Here we are." + +"An' have yez located? 'Tis the sick boy's property, ain't it? Oi saw +him goin' out this mornin'." + +"All ours now, till he comes back again; cabin, claim, everything." + +"And we're to have all we find," added Terry. "We've panned over five +dollars already and we're only learning. He took out $80, but there's +the whole claim left yet: tons of it! We're going to put in a sluice and +do a lot other improving and fix things up right." + +"B' gorry, mebbe yez have a bonanzy," congratulated Pat. "Gold is where +yez find it. Oi've washed out a matter o' wan dollar an' sixty-siven +cints meself, but didn't Oi tell yez we'd all be rich together, some o' +these days?" He sniffed and gazed over the table. "Faith, is that a pie? +A genuyine pie?" + +"That's what. Have a piece, Pat?" + +"'Tis wan thing Oi can't refuse," admitted Pat, modestly. "'Specially +apple pie." + +Harry cut him a generous piece, and having dissected it with his knife +into large mouthfuls, he accepted the invitation to finish the half; +Harry and Terry ate the other half. + +"Ye made it?" he inquired, of Harry. "Glory be! Sure, now, Oi wish ye +were in the business. Couldn't ye make me a pie, occasional? Oi'll pay +ye two dollars apiece annytime." + +"Can't promise that yet, Pat," laughed Harry. "But whenever we have a +pie you're welcome to help us eat it." + +"Not me," protested Pat. "A rale apple pie is worth two dollars of anny +man's money; an' if that ain't enough Oi'll pay ye more." + +But of course pie was a small item in comparison with a gold mine that +might yield $100 a day, under proper management. However, Pat lighted +his short black pipe and spent the evening, and they all talked gold, +gold, gold. + +"I think," said Harry, after Pat had left, with much good-will and +another reference to pie, and the two partners prepared for bed, "that +tomorrow we'll make a tour around the camp, to see what other folks are +doing, and then we'll know how to go about it the quickest way. Panning +is too slow for _us_." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +READY FOR BIG BUSINESS, BUT * * * ! + + +When after breakfast they started out, "for (as Harry said) the latest +wrinkles in getting rich quick," the gulch was already astir and at +work. And a busy, inspiring sight it was, alive from side to side and +apparently from end to end with cabins, completed or begun, some +plank-roofed, some roofed with pine boughs; with dug-outs, tents, +wagons, oxen, mules, and with men digging, burrowing, toiling at spade +and pick, squatting over gold-pans, or manipulating the boxes set on +rockers, while the few women were attending to dishes or hanging out the +family washing. + +"Washing $3 a dozen," announced a sign in front of one tent. + +The gulch was long and broken, and of course not half the sights were to +be seen from any one point. + +"Let's walk up a piece, first," suggested Harry. + +So they did, in confident manner. Only day before yesterday they had +come in as tenderfeet--not knowing a thing and not owning a foot of +ground. Now they were regular residents, actual miners, with a paying +claim and a cabin, and might hold up their heads. The very dirt on their +clothes proclaimed their rank. Terry felt like a wealthy citizen. + +The man who evidently owned the claim next above theirs paused to greet +them. He was another young man, with a blond beard, and a smile that +disclosed white even teeth, and although he was roughly dressed in +ragged red flannel shirt, belted trousers and heavy cow-hide boots, his +chest, showing under his shirt, which was open at the throat, was very +white, and now as he rested his foot upon his spade and shoved back his +slouch hat, his forehead also was very white. + +"How are you, neighbors?" he accosted. "Made your pile yet?" + +"No, sir," promptly responded Harry. "But it's right there waiting for +us. All we've done is a little panning, and with proper development work +we've got a bonanza." + +"We sure have," supported Terry. "We panned out five dollars in color, +first thing. But that's too slow." + +The man smiled good-humoredly. + +"You're in luck, then." He wiped his brow. "I haven't seen my color yet, +but I suppose it's around in here somewhere. Anyway, I'm getting plenty +of exercise. We're all crazy together. I expect I'm as crazy as the +rest. You know what Virgil says--_facilis decensus Averni_, eh?" and he +eyed Harry inquiringly. "Did you find that so?" + +"'Easy is the descent to Avernus,' eh?" translated Harry. "Hum! Well, we +did come down in here at a good gait. How we'll get out again is a +question. But you must be a college man." + +"Yes, and also a preacher. 'Whom the gods destroy they first make mad' +is another favorite reflection of mine, among these diggin's. Are you a +college man, too?" + +"Yes; University of Virginia." + +"I'm Yale. Glad to meet you. Well, it's a great place--all kinds of us +jumbled and digging and sweating, talking gold and eating gold and +dreaming gold, when most of us could accomplish more and make more where +we came from." + +"I reckon the thing we don't know how to do always looks easier than the +thing we do know how to do," reasoned Harry. + +"Exactly. But where are you bound for?" + +"We're going to put in improvements," spoke Terry. "Do you know where we +can get a sluice?" + +"Make it, if you can buy the lumber. But you'll have to stand in line +and grab the boards as fast as they fall from the saw. By the way, you +don't object to my using that water, do you? I'm not certain whether +it's on your land or mine; it's pretty nearly between, as I figure." + +"We thought it was on our side, but use all you want, certainly," +replied Harry. + +They left the preacher to his digging and proceeded. + +The farther they went up the gulch, the more intense seemed the fever +for work, and the thicker the camps and people. Yes, and there was gold, +too! Three men were operating a "rocker." This was one of those wooden +boxes on rockers like a cradle; one man shoveled in dirt, another poured +in water, a third rocked the box from side to side, and the water and +dirt flowed out through a slot at the lower end. + +The Golden Prize proprietors halted to watch. When the water and dirt +had escaped, in the bottom of the box were to be seen several cleats +nailed across, and caught against these cleats was gold! The men figured +that there was eight dollars' worth right there! + +Up here were a few sluices, too: the long troughs, also with cleats +nailed across the bottom inside, to catch the gold as the water and dirt +flowed over. Into some of the sluices water had to be poured by hand, +but others led from streams and the water flowed through without having +been dipped. The shorter sluices were called "Long Toms." + +"That's what we want," decided Harry. "A regular sluice, running right +across our claim." + +"There's the wheel-barrow man!" exclaimed Terry. + +And so it was, standing in front of a tent which bore the sign, "W. N. +Byers. The Rocky Mountain News," and nearby was a stake and a sign: +"Central City." + +They shook hands with the wheel-barrow man. + +"What's this?" demanded Harry. "A town?" + +"Yes, sir! Mr. Byers has named it. It's the best location. Right in the +middle of the Gulch." + +"Is he going to stay here?" + +"Nope; but he's pushing things along. What's happened to you boys? You +look as if you'd been prospecting." + +"We have," laughed Harry. "Haven't you?" + +"Yes, a little." And he suddenly called: "Hello, John. What's the matter +down there?" + +"They've got wind of another strike," answered the man, striding on. He +was a black-bearded man, and seemed very busy. + +"That's John Gregory himself," explained the wheel-barrow man. "The +original boomer of this gulch. But watch the people pile out, will you!" + +"Yes; there's a big strike south of here, I understand," from the +doorway of his tent spoke Mr. Byers himself: a stocky, pleasant-faced +man, with a close-trimmed brown beard. The diggin's had as great a +variety of beards and whiskers as it had of people. + +So he was the pioneer newspaper man, was he--the man who had brought a +printing-press, and a stock of paper already printed on one side at +Omaha, clear from the Missouri River to Cherry Creek. But Terry was +given scant opportunity to stare. Harry clutched him by the sleeve: + +"Come on, quick! I've got an idea." + +Away they hastened, back down the gulch. Before, at the lower end, the +confusion was increasing. Outfits were hurrying away--drivers swinging +their lashes, men footing fast; camps were breaking, and on their claims +miners and prospectors were shouldering pick and spade and pack and +hastening after the procession now crossing the creek. + +The movement spread up the gulch, communicated from camp to camp and +claim to claim. + +"What'll we do? Get more land?" puffed Terry. + +"No, no." + +But the lower end of the gulch was not by any means deserted, as they +arrived. It was mainly the frothy overflow that had bubbled out, and +when the eddy had settled there appeared to be almost as many people as +before. Even the claims which had been abandoned were being quickly +re-occupied. However, Harry dashed to one man who had packed up and on +his cabin was tacking a sign: "Keep Off!" while his partner waited. + +"Going to leave?" + +"Mebbe so. Want to buy this claim? She's a humdinger." + +"No. But I'll buy your sluice. How'll you sell it?" + +"That sluice? Seventy-five dollars." + +"Whew!" + +"It's forty feet long, of three boards; that means 120 feet, and +lumber's $300 a thousand feet and you have to put in your order a week +ahead. With the props and the cleats and the nails there's over $40 of +material in that sluice, and I reckon the labor of hauling and building +is wuth the balance." + +"I'll give you $50," snapped Harry. + +"Sold. But hurry up. We can't wait long here to sell a sluice. There's +too much doing 'round the corner." + +Harry fished out three gold pieces--two twenties and a ten--and passed +them over. + +"Better take it off this property quick or somebody else will," advised +the man; and away he and his partner strode, for the strike in Bobtail +Gulch just across a little divide south. + +"Lucky again!" jubilated Harry--who, Terry saw, had been smart. "Cost a +lot of money, but we couldn't have made it much cheaper ourselves and +we'd have been held up waiting for boards. You sit on it while I go for +Jenny. We haul the whole thing at once." + +"Maybe we could have got it for nothing, after they'd left," proposed +Terry, with an eye to the general grab-all as various persons swarmed +over the abandoned claims. + +"It wasn't ours, was it?" retorted Harry. "But it is now." And he left +at a fast limp. + +He returned with Jenny, harnessed, and they triumphantly dragged away +the sluice, carrying also the scissors props on which it had rested. Its +joints indeed threatened to part, but by picking their path they arrived +with it intact at the Golden Prize. + +Their preacher neighbor greeted them with a wave of hand and came over +to inspect. + +"Looks as though you were going right into business," he asserted. "I +thought maybe you'd join the rush for Bobtail." + +"No, sir; we stick," assured Harry. "A bird in the hand's worth two in +the bush." + +"Well, depends on the bird," answered the preacher. "Now, my bird's an +old crow, I'm afraid, and if I could see a fat turkey in the bush I'd +drop my crow pretty quick, like those other fellows." + +After dinner Harry rather ruefully examined his money belt. It was flat +and limp. + +"Ten dollars left," he said. + +"And our dust, you know," reminded Terry. "We've the five dollars we +washed out, and we can wash out more whenever we want it." + +Harry brightened. + +"That's right. We're rich. You can try panning again, this afternoon, +and I'll go down to the grocery and lay in provisions and any other +stuff we'll need, and then we can set up the sluice and pile up the +gold. Get to have everything running before Father Richards and that +George Stanton come in." + +"We can buy a claim for them, too," proposed Terry. "Or find one that's +been left." + +"No crows," corrected Harry. "Turkeys only." + +Terry went at his panning with enthusiasm, bound to make a showing. +Panning was slow, but it was rather exciting because there always was +liable to be something yellow right under your eye, if you looked close +enough. Panning was a one-man job; you did it all yourself. + +The preacher strolled over to watch. + +"How's the dirt paying now?" he queried. + +"Pretty good. I've found _some_ more," truthfully answered Terry. "About +a dollar's worth, I guess." + +"A pinch, eh? How'd you like to take over my claim?" + +"Haven't any money yet. I mean, we won't have money till we get the +sluice to going." + +"I'll tell you what I'll do," proffered the preacher. "Just to make the +transaction binding, I'll sell you the claim for your next pan. +Preaching is my business, not mining, you see. If you buy my claim, then +nobody can accuse you of jumping it." + +"All right," accepted Terry. + +"Play fair, now," laughed the professor. "Take your dirt from a good +rich spot." + +Spots looked mainly all alike to Terry. The hole where he had been +digging was laying bare the hard rock, but he scraped up a quantity of +dirt and loose splinters from a crevice---- + +"You're giving me principally rock, aren't you?" criticized the +preacher, good-naturedly. "But let it go. I'll be game." + +However, as the pan cleared and Terry threw aside the splinters, they +both exclaimed. Yellow was plainly visible--and moreover there was a +blackish, cindery fragment the size of a crushed hazel-nut that glinted +and weighed suspiciously as Terry lingered in the act of tossing it away +also. + +"Here! Hold on!" And the preacher took it. "Nugget, isn't it? Fifteen or +twenty dollars, I'll wager--and ten dollars more in flakes!" + +"That's a rich pan, boys, as I reckon," interrupted a voice, accompanied +by crunching footsteps and a growl from Shep. + +The speaker was a miner over six feet tall and broad in proportion--a +veritable giant of a man, in clothes as rough as the roughest, and with +a revolver at his belt. In his black-whiskered face his eyes were small +and deep-set, and close together, or as close as an enormous nose would +permit. He was carrying a sack on his shoulder, which he deposited in +order to investigate the pan. + +"Yes, sir-ee. A $40 pan, countin' the nugget. Does all your dirt run +like that?" + +"No, sir; not yet," replied Terry. "But maybe it will when we sluice +it." + +"Goin' to sluice, are you?" The giant's close-set little eyes roved +about inquisitively. "This your claim, is it?" + +"Yes, sir. This and the next one." + +"Where'd you get that lucky pan o' dirt?" + +"From that hole." + +The giant strode up, carelessly poked about in the hole with his +boot-toe, filtered some of the dirt through his fingers. + +"You're down to bed-rock already," he pronounced, returning. "I +calkilate you may have struck a leetle pocket, but I don't count much on +these shallow slopes. Some gold ketches, most of it's washed down. He +your partner?" and he indicated the preacher. + +"No, sir. My partner's down to the store." + +"Older'n you?" + +"Some." + +"Waal," and the giant picked up his sack, "you'll have most of your work +for nothin'. May strike an occasional pocket, an' may not. You've got +one o' them pore locations. Mostly rock." With that he stumped on into +the little draw down which flowed the side rivulet. Once he paused, to +cast a glance behind at the stream and the waiting sluice; and then he +disappeared around a shoulder up the draw. + +"We're no better off for _his_ opinion," quoth the preacher. "Don't +believe he's quite the style of a man I'd cater to, anyway. But our +bargain holds, does it? I'll make you out a bill of sale." + +"Sure," manfully assented Terry, trying not to regret that this was the +one big pan. + +Harry presently arrived, laden with purchases. + +"Meat's fifty cents a pound," he panted. "We may have to eat Shep or +Jenny. Flour's snapped up at $15 a sack, and milk's fifty cents a quart +from the cows of some of the emigrants. Whew! Couldn't find any +gold-scales; we'll do our weighing at the grocery store till the express +office or post office is opened. Everything's payable in dust. But I +invested in a treat for us; see?" and he produced a can of oysters! +"That's our bank. The groceryman says oyster-cans are the popular things +for holding gold, in the diggin's. It cost two dollars, but it'll be +worth a heap more than that when it's full. I'm nearly strapped, though. +Have you added much to our pile?" + +"Added the preacher's claim," blurted Terry, and 'fessed up. "It was a +big pan, too," he concluded. "I've found only a little color since." + +"Color helps," encouraged Harry. "That will be a claim for George. Good! +We can work both with the same water." + +The preacher brought the bill of sale of the "True Blue" claim, as he +had named it; and that evening they had him in to join them in making +merry over the can of oysters. Harry thoroughly washed out the emptied +can and set it aside to dry, for the "bank." + +The "improvements" on the True Blue claim consisted of merely a few +holes and a lean-to of pine boughs covered with a piece of ragged +canvas. The preacher jovially carried away his personal belongings on +his back; he was, as he expressed it, "traveling light." + +Left in possession of both claims, the two partners decided to fill +their oyster-can from the Golden Prize first, and they jumped into the +work of setting up the sluice. + +This proved to be a bigger job than it had appeared before being +tackled. The sluice was heavy and had to be moved about by sections; and +to place it conveniently and yet give it the proper slant, the ground +had to be leveled or mounded or lowered; and a little dam had to be +made, with a race or ditch to supply the water to the upper end of the +sluice: and what with disconnecting, and shifting hither-thither, and +re-connecting, and all that, two days were consumed. + +There had been no time for panning, but now, at last, they might start +in washing by wholesale, so to speak. + +They lugged the dirt on gunny sacking to the sluice, dumped the dirt +into the running water, and while Harry stirred it Terry followed down +along the sluice to throw out the rocks and clear the riffles or cross +cleats. A back-breaking and also muddy job this sluicing was, for the +sackings of dirt were heavy and the sluice of course leaked at the seams +and joints, so that the ground underneath was speedily soaked and made +slippery by the constant trudging. + +By noon the riffles were filled with gravelly mud, and Harry decided +that they should be cleaned. So the water was turned off. + +Now for the test! + +"I see yellow! I see yellow!" asserted Terry, running from cleat to +cleat, and eyeing the deposits against each; and indeed it did seem to +him that the little dikes glistened roguishly. + +"You see more than I do, then," retorted Harry, rubbing his long nose. +"What I see is more panning, after all, to sort that stuff." + +They dug the lodged stuff out with their knives, and panned several +cleatsful at a time. Harry found a nugget (small one); little by little +the gold left in the pans increased (hurrah!), until, at the wind-up---- + +"How much, do you think?" demanded Terry, excitedly. + +"Mighty near an ounce, and the nugget besides; say $40." Harry's dirty +face was abeam. "And we've washed as much dirt in half a day as we could +pan by hand in a week. At this rate we'll soon have both claims skinned +to the rock, and'll need others. But I reckon we can find 'em, or buy +'em." + +"Looks as though we were going to be powerful rich, doesn't it?" said +Terry, awed by the very thought. "We'll fill our oyster can." + +"Shucks!" remarked Harry. "I saw one sluice where they'd cleaned up $138 +in a day--but there were four men working it, and they had more loose +dirt than we've got. Our dirt's mostly rock. Anyway, we'll lay aside +that $100 we owe Father Richards and have something to show extra before +he and mother and the Stantons come in." + +However, the afternoon clean-up netted them, although they had dug the +dirt from a deeper place which looked very promising, scarcely color! +And when early, before breakfast, in the morning, Terry sallied out to +survey about and plan for a big day, to his astonishment the rivulet was +dry, except for a dribble! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PAT CASEY HELPS OUT + + +He hastened back to the cabin with his eyes popping. + +"Our water's gone!" + +"What!" + +"It is. There's not enough to fill a tin cup!" + +"Great Scotland!" And setting aside the skillet and dropping his fork, +Harry rushed out to see for himself. + +"Wonder if the blamed thing's drying up," he hazarded. "Well, we've got +a pailful for drinking and cooking, anyway. And after breakfast we'll +try to find out what's happened." + +They had not yet explored the little draw down which the water drained; +it was shallow and uninteresting; but they did not need to go far to +find out "what had happened." Around the shoulder of the first bend they +arrived at a branch draw on the other side of their low hill, and were +in the midst of some more claims. + +Water from a spring had been feeding the little draw and the branch draw +both; but now a sluice had been set up, taking away so much that there +was none left for the little draw. + +Several men were at work with the sluice. They paid no attention to +their visitors until Harry interrupted the nearest. + +"Look here. You men have taken our water." + +The man turned around short. He was the giant who had commented on +Terry's big pan and on the condition in general of the Golden Prize +prospect. + +"What you talkin' about?" he growled. "Who are you an' where you come +from? Oh, it's you, is it?" he added, to Terry--and Terry had the notion +that he had known perfectly well who they were and where they were from, +before speaking. + +"Yes," answered Terry. "And this is my partner. You aren't leaving us +any water for our own sluice." + +"You have all that comes, haven't you?" + +"We haven't all that ought to come, though," answered Harry, a bit +sharply because the giant's tone was decidedly rough. "You've dug the +ditch to your sluice higher up than necessary, and it lowers the level +of the spring so much that no water enters our gulch at all. The stream +used to split, didn't it?" + +"Split nothin'. Trouble is, your gulch is runnin' dry. You ought to've +figgered on that, now that the snow's all melted off and sunk in. Most +of those little gulches dry up, come toward summer." + +"The stream used to split, and feed through this gulch, just the same," +insisted Harry. "You can see the channel. I hold that we're entitled to +a share of this spring. And if you'd move your ditch a foot or two we'd +get enough, and you'd have plenty yourselves." + +"You're entitled to just what drains into your gulch, an' we're entitled +to what drains into ours," growled the giant. "This water's in our +gulch, ain't it--spring and all?" + +"I don't know that it is, by rights," retorted Harry. "The spring's +pretty close to being at the dividing point. And anyway, we're not +asking you for your water; we're asking for ours." + +"Now look-ee here," and the giant tapped his revolver butt: "By miners' +law we're entitled to a share o' what water comes down our gulch, an' by +miners' law you're entitled to a share o' what water comes down your +gulch, alluz considerin' there's any to share. If your claim was wuth a +picayune I'd advise you to hold on till next spring, when mebbe you'd +get a leetle water again from natteral drainage; but as it ain't wuth a +picayune I'd advise you to get off an' look elsewhar. Anyhow, you get +off this ground mighty quick; for if you're huntin' trouble you'll find +it in a bigger dose than you can handle." + +"It looks to me like a deliberate scheme to run us off," began Harry, +hotly. But he checked himself. "Come on, Terry," he bade. + +"Did you see Pine Knot Ike?" exclaimed Terry, as they returned, with +heads up, to their own ground. "I did--he was down below, with another +man." + +"Yes, I saw him." Back at their sluice again they stood undecided. Harry +scratched his long nose and surveyed about. "Confound 'em! It's a dirty +mean trick. If they'd change the head of their sluice ever so little +we'd have enough water and so would they. But they've fixed it so that +when they shut off to clean up the water all flows the other way. Let's +see. We can get water for the cabin from that creek down below. Might +pan with it, too--only we'd spend most of our time carrying the dirt +down or the water up." + +But when they went down to the creek, to investigate, they were curtly +told by a camper there that his claim and others extended all along on +both sides, and that they were entitled to the water themselves. + +"You can help yourselves to drinking water, and that's all," he granted. +"I'm sorry, strangers, but if you're on a dry prospect I reckon you'd +better get out." + +"Not yet!" retorted Harry. "Not," he added to Terry, "as long as we can +make _pie_! Come on. We'll find Pat." + +They had not seen Pat Casey for several days. As they descended the +gulch, it seemed busier and more crowded than ever. Five thousand people +were here now, according to report, and all the surrounding gulches were +thronged, also. Sluices were running, others were being set up--and the +thought of their own dry, useless sluice, and the gold that _must_ be +waiting, and the way they had worked to prepare for getting it, made +Terry half sick. His father would laugh, and George would be a pest. +Yes, George would poke all manner of fun at them. + +Pat wasn't where they had expected to find him. + +"Pat Casey? The red-headed Irishman, you mean? He's across yonder, and +he's struck it rich. You'll find him over there, strangers, washing out +$50 and more a day." + +So Pat had moved. He was waist deep in a trench that showed signs of +soon being a tunnel; and when from the brink they hailed him, he +clambered out. All mud and perspiration was Pat. + +"B' gorry, Oi'm glad to see yez," said Pat. "Oi've been thinkin' o' yez, +but what with gettin' rich Oi've no time for calls. Oi bought out the +men who were gopherin' here, an' now the deeper Oi go the richer Oi am. +Sure, yez are lookin' at a millionaire, 'most. An' how are things with +you boys?" + +They told him. Pat scratched his head. + +"Too bad, too bad. An' a dirty trick. But, faith, there ain't water +enough to go 'round, an' that's a fact; not sayin', though, that they're +actin' square, at all. For they ain't. Are yez in need?" He winked. +"Jist come into me house a minute." + +He led them into his bough hut, and from underneath his bunk fished out +an oyster can. + +"Heft it, wance," he invited. + +It was heavy. + +"Help yourselves, lads," he insisted. + +But Harry laughed. + +"Not yet, thanks, Pat. We've got a little to tide us along. What I want +to know is, how's your appetite for pie?" + +"Two dollars apiece for pie, an' two pies a day: wan for breakfast an' +wan for supper; an' on Sunday wan for dinner besides," promptly answered +Pat. + +"It's a go," pronounced Harry. + +"Will it take the both o' yez to make pie?" queried Pat. "Sure, ye look +like a husky boy," he said, to Terry. "Let your partner make the pies, +an' ye turn your hand to helpin' me at the sluice. Oi need another good +worker. Oi fired the wan Oi had only this very mornin' because he sat +down too frequent. Oi'll give ye a dollar an' a half a day, an' ye can +fetch down me pies." + +"That's a bargain," accepted Terry. "Wait till I get my spade." + +When he and Harry arrived again at their own property they found the +giant there. He was standing in their hole, and inquisitively poking +about. + +"Here! What are you doing?" challenged Harry. + +"No harm meant," apologized the giant. "But you're down to bed-rock an' +that's a fact. Still, a man might wash out a little dust, from spots, I +reckon, if he had the water. Now, the truth is we're sorry for you boys. +You've put consider'ble time an' labor in on this prospect, an' we're +willin' to do the right thing. How'll you sell?" + +"For how much?" demanded Harry. + +"The property's no good to you; never would amount to anything great +anyhow; it's too rocky. But I'll tell you what we'll do: We'll give you +$100 for your claim, to save hard feelin's, an' we'll take the chance o' +pannin' out enough when there's water, to pay us back. I expec' we'll +lose, but we'd rather lose than have the hard feelin's. You get the +hundred dollars an' the experience." + +"We'll keep the experience and the claim, too; eh, Terry?" Harry +answered. "And there's something you men can keep: you can keep _off_. +What's that in your hand? A piece of our rock? Drop it!" + +[Illustration: "THE GIANT SAT DOWN WITH AN EXPLOSIVE GRUNT, AND HARRY +STOOD OVER, SCARCELY PANTING, REVOLVER DANGLING IN HAND"] + +"Cock-a-doodle-do!" jeered the giant. "Mebbe I picked up this rock here +an' mebbe I picked it up somewheres else. But I drop it when I get +ready. You crow mighty loud for a young rooster without any spurs." + +The giant was standing confidently agrin, resting at ease on one leg, +his hand on his hip--but he did not know Harry. With a single jump Harry +had reached him, quicker than the eye could follow had jerked the +revolver from its scabbard and at the same time with a twist of the foot +had knocked loose the propping leg. The giant sat down with an explosive +grunt, and Harry stood over, scarcely panting, revolver dangling in +hand. + +"We wear our spurs on the inside, like a cat's claws," he said. "Now you +sit there till you drop that piece of rock." + +But the giant looked so ugly and menacing, as he glared about, that +Terry flew to the cabin for the shot-gun. He was back with it in a +jiffy--and the giant was already slowly rising to his feet. He had +dropped the piece of rock. + +"'Tisn't wuth sheddin' blood for," he grunted. "Your hull property isn't +wuth the lead in a bullet. But I admit you did for me mighty clever. +Where'd you l'arn that trick?" + +"We're as full of tricks as you are," retorted Harry. "Here's your gun. +You needn't keep him covered, Terry. He's going." + +"Then you refuse our offer, do you?" + +"Yes. You can't buy even the privilege of walking across this land for a +hundred dollars or a thousand dollars." + +"All right. You can squat here till you starve an' dry up, then. Mebbe +you have the trick o' livin' on nothin', but I doubt it. I'd like to +know that wrestlin' trip, though--I'll give you an ounce o' dust to show +me." + +"No, you can't buy that, either," laughed Harry. + +"That preacher feller gone away?" queried the giant, with a jerk of the +head toward the True Blue claim. + +"Yes," said Harry, shortly. "He's quit." + +With a calculating glance around, the giant stalked off. They watched +him go. Harry picked up the piece of rock. + +"Wonder what he wanted of this," mused Harry. "It doesn't look any +different from lots of the other rock. White quartz, I reckon, with iron +rust in it. We could have given him a bushel of the same. He didn't find +it lying loose, though. He cracked it off from somewhere. That's a fresh +break." + +They searched about curiously a minute for the source of the fragment. +It was a smooth knob, the size of a large walnut, showing rusty white at +the fracture. + +"We can't wash rock, anyhow," quoth Terry. "It just clogs up the sluice. +We wash the dirt." + +"And we can't wash even that now. It seems queer, though, that that +outfit would want to buy this claim after saying it's worthless. You +didn't want to sell, did you?" + +"No," stoutly declared Terry. "Not unless we have to, to pay dad back." + +"Not as long as we can sell pies and make day wages, at any rate," added +Harry. "There are just as good ways of getting money as digging it out +the ground. If those fellows bother us we've tricks for all their legs +as fast as they bring 'em over." He stuffed the piece of rock into his +pocket. "I'll keep this for luck," he said. + +Harry alertly started in on preparations for his pie-baking; he had +hopes of enlisting other customers than Pat. Terry shouldered spade and +pick, and trudged off to help Pat. + +He found Pat much excited. + +"Have ye heard the grand news? No? Why, sure, the great editor man, +Horace Grayley, be comin' to the diggin's! He's on his way already--him +an' other cilibrated citizens all the way from New York. The boys are +arrangin' a rayciption for 'em tomorrow; an' b' gorry, 'tis mesilf will +have the honor o' lettin' the great Grayley, who be the editor o' the +New York _Tribyune_, wash the gold with his own hands from this very +pit. Faith, if Oi don't make his pans rich for him my name's not Pat +Casey." + +When that evening Terry, wet and dirty and tired, went home, the word of +the approach of Editor Horace Greeley and party had aroused much +interest through the gulch. + +He found everything ship-shape but quiet at the cabin, where Harry had +baked several pies and a batch of bread and hung out some washing. A +sign, of wrapping paper and charcoal lettering, now announced: + + GREGORY GULCH BAKERY + Apple Pie + Bread, Etc. + HARRY REVERE & CO. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +HORACE GREELEY COMES TO TOWN + + +The Horace Greeley party arrived early the next morning, and breakfasted +at the lower end of the gulch before proceeding upon an inspection of +the diggin's. Their visit was deemed of the utmost importance, for, as +Pat explained to Terry, they were here to see the gold with their own +eyes and handle it with their own fingers, so as to print the truth in +the New York "_Tribyune_." + +Sure, whatever Horace Greeley said, the people would believe. + +In order to make certain that the report would be a good one, it had +been arranged to pilot Mr. Greeley to the richest of the claims, and +invite him to wash from these for himself. Pat's was the lowest down and +therefore the first--and now Pat seemed to think that the reputation of +the gulch rested on his shoulders. + +He had donned a fresh shirt, ahead of time, and evidently had tried to +slick up generally. The water had been turned off from the sluice as if +in preparation for a postponed clean-up. + +"Take it 'asy," directed Pat, when Terry, having delivered the two pies +contracted for, was about to spring into the pit and begin the business +of the day. "Let the sluice be, so His Honor can clane up some o' the +riffles by himself. An' we'll jist be loosenin' the dirt a bit here an' +yon, for the sake o' keepin' busy an' makin' the place convanyent for +him." + +In fact, Pat was so particular in "jist loosenin' the dirt a bit" that +Terry suspected him of not wishing to soil his shirt. + +"Well, I'm thinkin' they're comin'," pronounced Pat. "Out o' the pit +with ye an' wash your hands an' face so ye'll be a credit to the gulch. +Sure, ye might have put on a clane shirt yourself--but mebbe 'tis better +wan of us looks like a hard worker." + +Terry had a notion to retort that probably Harry was wearing the clean +shirt; they had only three shirts for the two of them, and the extra +ought to go to the cook, of course. + +All around, the other miners were unusually busy, so as to impress the +great Horace Greeley, but they kept an eye directed down the gulch. Now +a party, on muleback, were drawing near. They numbered half a dozen, +conducted by John Gregory himself, and a little squad of onlookers +trailed behind. + +Occasionally they stopped, to survey operations; Pat, pretending to dig, +awaited nervously. + +"Mind ye, let me do the talkin'," he cautioned, to Terry. "An' be polite +to His Honor, yourself. He's a great man. An' in case Oi ask ye to dig, +take your dirt careless loike from the corner beside that white rock, +for the rock's a lucky stone." + +The party halted at Pat's pit and gazed in, and Pat and Terry, pausing +in their show of work, looked up. Besides John Gregory, there were in +the party Green Russell and Mr. Williams, the stage company +superintendent, and Editor William Byers of the _Rocky Mountain News_, +and--yes, Mr. Villard, the Cincinnati reporter. + +Terry did not know whether Mr. Villard would remember him, or recognize +him, anyway, in those clothes, which were much worse than when worn in +Denver. + +"This is one of our promising gulch claims," was saying John Gregory. +And--"Good morning to you, Pat," he addressed. "How are things looking +with you today?" + +"Foine, thank ye, John," assured Pat. + +"Come out a minute, Pat. Mr. Greeley, I want to make you acquainted with +Mr. Casey, a leading citizen of the Gulch. And Mr. Richardson--Mr. +Casey. And Mr. Villard--Mr. Casey." Pat, who had clambered out, removed +his hat and rather bashfully shook hands. + +So that was Horace Greeley, was it; the editor of the New York +_Tribune_! He didn't look like an editor of a big paper such as the +_Tribune_. Rather, with his square hat and his rosy face surrounded with +a fringe of short white whiskers, and his roly-poly figure, as he sat +his mule, his legs sticking straight out, he looked more like a church +deacon or a prosperous "back East" farmer. + +Mr. Richardson, who probably was that reporter for the Boston _Journal_, +as spoken of by Mr. Villard in Denver, was a tall, wiry man with soft +hat and full brown beard, and wore a Colt's revolver. + +"These gentlemen are out from the East, Pat," continued John Gregory, +"to see if it's true that we're all starving hereabouts and that the +gold is in our eye. Mebbe you've no objection to their doing a little +investigating on their own account down in your hole there." + +"Faith, Oi'd be proud if their Honors would touch their fingers to me +dirt," asserted Pat. "Would they loike to get down in, or shall Oi pass +a bit up to 'em?" + +Mr. Greeley and Mr. Richardson and Mr. Villard dismounted and peeked in. + +"About how much are you washing out a day, Pat?" invited Green Russell. + +"Oh, a hundred dollars a day, more or less, dependin' on the clane-ups," +answered Pat. + +"Upon my word!" exclaimed Mr. Greeley, adjusting a pair of spectacles, +the closer to peer. "I was scarcely prepared to find that a fact." + +"You're ready to make a clean-up, I see," spoke Mr. Byers. "Suppose you +show Mr. Greeley and these other gentlemen. How long will it take?" + +"A matter o' two hours," replied Pat. "But would His Honor loike to try +a pan, first? Sure, a pan or two from the pit, an' a couple from the +riffles--that's a fair tist." + +"Yes, I believe I should like to see the evidences of a pan," declared +Mr. Greeley. + +"There's no need of His Honor gettin' down in," averred Pat. "It's no +place for the feet of a gintleman. Terry, me lad, pan a spadeful, will +ye, an' show Mr. Grayley the color so the New York _Tribyune_'ll tell +the world all about it?" + +Something in the slant of Pat's eye reminded Terry to dig his dirt from +beside the white rock in the corner; seizing the spade, he did so, and +dumped into the pan always handy. The ditch that fed the sluice was only +a few steps from the shallow edge of the pit. Squatting over it, Terry +deftly panned the dirt. No one could have done it better--and the result +certainly was amazing. Terry handed up the pan, but he scarcely could +believe his eyes. Mr. Horace Greeley would require no 'specs to see +_that_ color! + +"Between two an' thray dollars, Your Honor," assured Pat, as amidst +exclamations the remarkable pan was passed about. "Even a boy can get +the rale stuff in these diggin's. Will Your Honor keep the dust for a +token? An' will ye be after tryin' a pan for yourself? Sure, everything +ye find is yours." + +"You might try a pan from the riffles of the sluice, Mr. Greeley," +suggested Mr. Byers. + +"I will." Mr. Greeley promptly rolled up his sleeves, and settled his +square hat more firmly on his head. "Let me have the pan, if you +please." He carefully scraped the color from the pan and deposited it in +a buckskin bag that he carried. "Where shall I take from?" + +"Annywhere, annywhere, Your Honor," bade Pat. + +"Why not about the middle, Mr. Greeley?" proposed Journalist Richardson. +"That would be fair." + +"Let him alone, gintlemen," urged Pat. "Let His Honor do it all himself. +Come out, Terry, lad. Ye'll be gettin' in His Honor's way." + +That was not one bit true, because Mr. Greeley would not be anywhere +near Terry. However, Terry trudged out, to please the anxious Pat; and +now Mr. Villard hailed him. + +"Why--hello, Pike's Peak Limited! I thought that was you. Where's your +partner, and how are you making it in the mines?" He shook heartily with +Terry, in spite of the mud on Terry's clothes--not to speak of +considerable on Terry's hand. + +"Harry's up at the cabin. We're doing pretty well, thank you," answered +Terry. + +"Well, I should rather say you were, if you wash out two and three +dollar pans! I was hoping to see you. Mr. Richardson has a message for +you. Richardson, this is one of the partners in that Pike's Peak Limited +outfit you've inquired about." + +"Oh, yes." And Mr. Richardson, the Boston journalist, also shook hands +with Terry. "Glad to meet you. Mr. Greeley and I passed some people on +our way out by stage. That is, they spent the night near us, at one of +the stage stations. They asked us, if we saw the Pike's Peak Limited +boys at the diggin's anywhere, to say they were coming. There were two +families traveling together. One was Mr. and Mrs. Richards----" + +"They're my father and mother!" exclaimed Terry. + +"And the other was Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, and a boy and a little girl." + +"I know 'em!" cried Terry, excited. "The boy's name is George and the +girl's name is Virgie. The Stantons are near neighbors of my folks, in +the Big Blue Valley. Are they near? When'll they get here?" + +"Oh, they were some distance out yet," smiled Mr. Richardson. "But they +had spanking good teams and were pushing right through. They'll----" + +"Ha, ha! Watch our old friend Horace! He acts like an expert," laughed +Mr. Villard. + +For Mr. Greeley, after having deliberately selected the packed dirt from +several of the riffles at the middle of the sluice, was proceeding to +wash his pan at the ditch. + +"Why, His Honor might have been in the diggin's all his life!" praised +Pat. "Sure, isn't he a Californy Forty-niner?" + +Mr. Greeley was not so swift in his motions as a skilled prospector, but +he evidently knew the correct method. He dipped, and tilted the pan, and +twirled out the dirt and water; and peered, and dipped and twirled +again. + +Each time that he peered he seemed to be more interested, and his +smooth, chubby face grew redder. + +"Have you struck it rich, Mr. Greeley?" + +"Upon my word!" And straightening, he returned with the pan held close +under his nose. "Marvelous! If this is gold--and I judge that it +is--these are very rich diggings indeed." + +They all crowded forward to inspect the pan. The bottom of it was +absolutely yellow! + +"Hurrah for Mr. Greeley!" congratulated the other journalists, and hands +patted him roundly on the back. + +"Gold!" proclaimed Pat. "Faith, an' if 'tain't a twinty dollar pan I'll +ate it. Wance I washed out siventeen dollars myself, but never a pan +like that from mere a few riffles. Keep it, Your Honor. Would ye like +to try ag'in?" + +"Oh, no, no," declined Editor Greeley, considerably flustered as he +painstakingly transferred the flakes and dust to his buckskin sack. +"This is proof enough. Now I have worked with my own hands and seen the +results with my own eyes--I have the results in my very pocket! Nobody +can gainsay the richness of these new Western mines, and the truth shall +be announced to the world as far as my paper can carry it." He smiled +boyishly on Terry. "I beat you, my son, didn't I? Well, well!" + +"This is one of the Pike's Peak Limited boys, Mr. Greeley," explained +Journalist Richardson. "You remember a party of emigrants on the trail +sent word by us to them, in case we ran across them at Cherry Creek or +elsewhere." + +"Yes, yes. That is so," and the great Horace Greeley extended his hand +to Terry. "You must be Terry, then--the son of that Mr. and Mrs. +Richards in one of the wagons." + +"Yes, sir," answered Terry, wondering how Mr. Greeley could remember. +"They're my father and mother. The other outfit lived on the next ranch +to us in the Big Blue Valley." + +"And they had another boy, and a little girl beside," said Mr. Greeley. +"That's good. I'm glad to see young blood entering this vast new country +of the United States. When I return to New York I think I shall print as +a motto: 'Go West, young man; go West.'" + +After shaking hands again with Pat, the Horace Greeley party rode on up +the gulch, for further investigations. Pat respectfully watched them; +then he clapped on his battered hat and faced Terry with a droll wink. + +"B' gorry, that was good wages for an hour's work. Oi'm thinkin' Mr. +Grayley'll be wishin' to sell his _Tribyune_ an' dig in the dirt along +with the rest of us here." + +"I should say!" agreed Terry. "Jiminy, this is awful rich ground! I +didn't know there was so much gold in here, did you? We must have opened +up a regular layer yesterday." + +"Don't ye tell anybody," whispered Pat, "but Oi opened up me oyster-can +a bit, an' sprinkled a few pinches jist to make the visit by His Honor +the more interestin'. Sure," continued Pat, "ye wouldn't want a man like +the great Horace Grayley to soil his hands for mere a dollar or two, +would ye? An' it's all right. The same gold came out o' here in the +first place, an' wance Oi tuk siventeen dollars an' fifty cents from a +single pan, myself. He might have done as much without my help, if he'd +struck the proper spot, an' I only made matters 'asy for him. Now he can +print the news with an exclamation point. Well, let's clane up the +sluice, an' give back to the oyster-can what's due it an' more +besides." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +TWO TENDERFEET ARRIVE + + +Word was spread through the Gulch for a mass-meeting this evening to +listen to a speech by Horace Greeley; but of far more importance, in +Terry's mind, was the news that his father and mother and the Stantons +were on the Pike's Peak trail! Yes, sir; coming! They must have cut +loose sooner than expected. But when would they arrive at Cherry Creek? + +Mr. Richardson had not said; still, he had said that they were well +equipped and were "pushing right along." They could not have arrived +yet, of course; the Greeley stage had got in only two or three days ago, +and the stage coaches traveled mostly at a gallop and fast trot so as to +cover fifty miles a day, including stops for dinner and sleep. The best +teams could cover only twenty miles a day. Anyway, they were coming, and +he was wild to tell Harry--and Shep. + +So as soon as he might knock off work on the Casey claim he bustled to +the cabin, and unloaded the news. + +He and Harry united in a war dance. Shep barked. "That," quoth Harry, +when they had quieted down again, "is a joke on us." He rubbed his long +nose and surveyed Terry quizzically. "Which of us will wear the clean +shirt, to receive them in?" + +"Dunno," grinned Terry. "But if they don't get here pretty quick there +won't be any extra shirt. And one of your boots is plumb gone, already!" + +"I know it," admitted Harry. "I'll have to make moccasins. But we can't +get clothes till we pay our debt." + +"No, sir!" agreed Terry. "We'll have to get that hundred dollars ahead, +first." For upon this they were determined. + +"We sure will," confirmed Harry. "We wrote that we were rich with a gold +mine, and told your father the hundred dollars would be waiting here for +him, and a lot more besides! Huh!" + +"They think we're rolling in wealth," asserted Terry. "Now they'll +laugh." + +"No, I don't believe they'll laugh," said Harry. "We did make a long +brag, though. But chances are they didn't get that letter before they +started. We'll write them, to Denver, and just say we're doing well. +Then they'll know where we are." + +"George'll laugh," insisted Terry. "He'll laugh when he finds you're +cooking pies and I'm working by the day for Pat Casey! I told him I'd +have a claim ready for him, so he could start in digging." + +"Ha, ha!" cheered Harry. "Well, we've got the claims, haven't we? And he +can dig all he wants to. We're doing the best _we_ can. You're earning a +dollar and a half a day, and I'm the champion cook of the diggin's--I +sold three pies and a batch of biscuits today, all for dust." + +"How much've we got in our oyster-can, I wonder?" + +"Quite a lot, after you've been paid off," alleged Harry, cheerfully. +"But trouble is, flour and apples and soda and salt cost so plaguey +much--and we have to eat, ourselves. So that means coffee and meat +and--pshaw! But not a stitch of clothes do we buy, mind you, till we're +square with Father Richards." + +"Don't believe Dad'll need the hundred dollars," declared Terry. + +"Maybe he will and maybe he won't," answered Harry. "But we let on we +had a bonanza, and now we've got to make good. That's the joke." + +"Shucks!" bemoaned Terry. "We can't go down to Denver or Auraria in +these rigs, to meet real folks. We look like--like--I don't know what. +Your pants are split clear across the knee." + +"No worse split than yours," retorted Harry. "And my best boot is better +than your best one!" + +"We'll have to stay out of sight in the mountains," asserted Terry, +"till we get enough dust to buy clothes with." + +"Well," said Harry, "here's where we belong. We're all right for Gregory +Gulch--and we don't know when to meet the folks, anyway. By the time +they turn up we may have our can heaping full from my pies and your +wages, or we may be regularly sluicing out the gold from the Golden +Prize and the True Blue, and go down to Denver in time to put on +broadcloth and brand new boots!" + +"If we only had water," sighed Terry. + +"That's the one thing that keeps us from being millionaires," sighed +Harry. "And it's one thing or another with most people--or else we'd +all be millionaires. Counting up beforehand is the easiest part of +getting rich." + +"Just the same, I know this much," blurted Terry. "Some day all of a +sudden George Stanton will come straight into this gulch, with his pick +and spade, looking for the gold that he'll say we promised him." + +"Then we'll put him to work baking, or digging with you and Pat," +laughed Harry. + +The mass meeting that evening to hear Horace Greeley speak was a great +affair. Everybody went--that is, everybody who wanted to. Clothes did +not matter. At least 2,000 people gathered, and they wore all kinds of +garb, from buckskin to rags. They stood about, or sat upon the ground +and stumps and logs; and Mr. Greeley, in a long whitish coat, addressed +them, after having been given three cheers. + +He said that his day's trip through the diggin's had convinced him that +this was a gold region as rich as California, and now he was of the +opinion that a new State should be formed. He urged the miners to work +hard and faithfully, and not drink or gamble. It was work instead of +gambling and running about that would make them successful. He hoped +that they all would live honest, upright lives, just as though their +home folks were with them; and if anybody would not so live, he should +be placed upon a horse or mule and told to ride and not come back. He +said that one purpose in his visiting the Pike's Peak country was to +find out the truth regarding the mines; but that another purpose was to +cross the continent and get information that would hasten the building +of a railway--the Pacific Railway, to extend from the Missouri River to +the Pacific Ocean! + +Hooray for Horace Greeley! And again hooray! + +Mr. Richardson spoke, and so did Mr. Williams, the Pike's Peak Express +Co. superintendent, and others. They all were cheered, also. + +"It's funny we don't see Sol Judy anywhere, isn't it?" remarked Terry, +as after another rousing round of cheers for the visitors, and the +Gregory Diggin's, and a new State of Jefferson, the meeting broke up. "I +thought we might 'spy him in that crowd." + +"So did I," admitted Harry. "But he'll turn up again. He always does." + +The Horace Greeley party spent the next day in the diggin's, and then +went back to Denver. It was understood that they had decided to make a +favorable report to their papers, saying that there was plenty of gold +to be found by those who knew how to find it; but that people who were +doing well in business and on their farms in the East ought to stay +there instead of starting off on a wild-goose chase. + +"That's right," supported Harry. "Only about one person in ten in this +very gulch is making any money mining. The rest of us are just living +and hoping." + +He continued his cooking, and Terry continued to work for Pat. That was +hard work, too--all day in the muddy soil, digging, and dumping the +heavy spadesful into the sluice, and stirring, and running along to +follow the dirt down, and once or twice each day cleaning up the +sluices. But Harry had no easy job, either. Fire wood was getting +scarcer and needs must be carried farther--and the rusty stove burned a +terrible amount. And water must be carried up by the bucket. And Jenny +must be attended to, so that she should have water and grazing. And the +washing done. And the meals got, the same as ever. And there was the +worry over obtaining a supply of flour and dried apples--especially the +dried apples, for the pies. + +The pies contracted for by Pat were the chief source of income in the +cooking line, although occasionally Harry did sell a pie or some bread +to other customers. But more women were arriving in the gulch, and they, +too, did cooking. + +The oyster-can grew heavier only very slowly. What with the high prices +of flour and apples and other stuff, and what with the amount of +provisions they ate themselves, there really was not so much profit in +cooking, after all. + +But toward the last week of June Harry calculated that the dust in the +oyster-can was approaching the $100 sum. And now they both began to +wonder again when the folks and the Stantons would appear. + +Then the not unexpected occurred. + +Terry was deep down in Pat's pit and toiling lustily, and was already +mud and dirt from crown to soles, when from above somebody hailed him. +George Stanton, of course! Not only George, but Virgie, too. They were +peering in, George afoot and Virgie from the back of the Indian pony +that last year had been captured from Thunder Horse, the mean Kiowa. + +George wore a natty buckskin suit, and his revolver, of make-believe +wooden hammer; and with a blanket roll on his back, and a new pick and +spade on his shoulder, and a new gold-pan slung at his side, he +evidently was all prepared for business. Virgie wore a sunbonnet and a +cleanish gingham dress. They both looked so spic and span that Terry +realized how different he looked, himself. But with an instant whoop of +welcome he clambered out to shake hands. + +"Hello, George! Hello, Virgie! Cracky, I'm glad to see you! When did you +get in? Where are the folks?" + +"Down in Denver," answered George. "Virgie and I came up with some +people we met on the trail. Is this your mine? Did you find one for me, +too?" + +"You're awful dirty," accused Virgie, wiping her hand on her dress. + +"I reckon I am, Virgie," agreed Terry. "So'd you and George be, if you +weren't tenderfeet. How'd you know where to find us? Did you get our +letters?" + +"Yes; got the one you wrote from Denver--got it at Manhattan, just as we +were starting. We came through in twenty-one days. Your dad and mine +have a cracking good team apiece. And we got another you wrote to Denver +from these diggin's. Found it waiting for us. Is this your mine? Where's +Harry? Did you discover one for me? Where's the gold? We hear you've +struck it rich! The folks sent us up to see. Do you want them, too?" + +"Who told you we'd struck it rich?" demanded Terry. + +"A sick boy down at Denver. He heard us asking for our mail, and asked +if your father was any kin of yours. He says he knows your mine; it's +the Golden Prize, and it's a bonanza; regular humdinger! So I was +looking for it, and I saw the top of your hat, and I told Virgie: +'There's Terry Richards' hat, and I bet he's under it!' Is this the +mine? Is that other man working for you? Where's Harry? Shall I get down +in and dig, too? I'm not afraid of dirt." + +"Naw, this isn't the Golden Prize," confessed Terry, bluffly. "It's +another mine--belongs to Pat Casey. I'm helping him. But I'll quit and +take you over to the cabin. 'Tisn't far. Wait till I tell Pat." + +Pat likewise was out of the pit, and had visitors: two men talking at +him hotly and gesturing with their fists, while Pat responded in kind. +They all seemed to be having an angry argument. + +"Oh, Pat!" appealed Terry. "I'm going over to the cabin a minute, if you +don't mind. I've got some friends to show about." + +"Sure, go on," bade Pat. "Stay the mornin', if ye like. There'll be no +more dirt turned on this property till afternoon ag'in, annyhow--barrin' +Oi don't start a graveyard in your absince." + +That was an odd remark, but Pat appeared to be so enraged at something +or other newly come up that Terry did not delay to interfere farther. + +"All right; let's go," he said to George and Virgie. + +He led off; George stumped behind, weighted with blanket roll, +wooden-hammer revolver, pan, and pick and spade; Virgie followed on her +pony. Terry, in his mud and ragged clothes, felt like an old-timer, as +he conducted these "tenderfeet" to the cabin home in the busy gulch. + +"Golly, there are a lot of people in here, aren't there?" panted George, +impressed by the many curious sights. "Are they all making their pile?" + +"No, I should say not, yet. But they're all trying." + +"How much do you think you've got already? A thousand dollars?" + +"Uh-uh. We haven't weighed it; haven't any scales." + +"I want to see some gold," piped Virgie. + +"I'll show you some when we get to the cabin," promised Terry. + +"Is Harry at the cabin?" queried George. + +"Yes; we'll surprise him." + +"What's he doing? Is the cabin at your mine? Is he mining there while +you're mining at that other place? Who's Pat Casey? Why don't you and +Harry mine together?" + +"I guess he's cooking. Somebody has to cook," explained Terry. "And +clean up." + +"Well, you need cleaning up, all right," asserted George. "Reckon you'd +better not let your mother see you in _those_ clothes! She'd have a +fit." + +"Aw, we old miners all dress like this," retorted Terry. "It's only +tenderfeet who fix up." + +"Nobody'd take you for a millionaire, that's sure," scoffed George. +"Say!" he added. "You sold Duke, didn't you? I saw him in a show, there +at Denver--or Auraria, I mean, but it's all the same thing. What'd you +do that for? They're going to match him with a bear as soon as they can +find the bear--have a fight!" + +"Oh, shucks!" deplored Terry. "Did you see Thunder Horse's head, too?" + +"Was that Thunder Horse? Didn't look like him now! Where'd they get his +head? Thought Pine Knot Ike had it. You said so in your letter." + +"Yes, he did have it on the trail. But Mr. O'Reilly bought it for the +show. And Pine Knot Ike's in here. He's with a gang not very far from +us." + +"I don't like Thunder Horse, and I'm hungry," piped Virgie. + +"We'll have something to eat in a jiffy," comforted Terry. "There's the +cabin." + +"Which one?" queried George. + +"That one with the sign on. See? On that little rise." + +"What does the sign say--'Pike's Peak Limited'? Or 'The Golden Prize'?" +urged George. "'Golden Prize Mine,' I bet." + +"I see Harry! We're going to s'prise Harry," rejoiced Virgie. + +That seemed evident, for Harry was sitting against the cabin wall, under +the sign, and busily engaged. + +"He's panning gold, isn't he?" exclaimed George, excited. + +"Naw," said Terry, weakly. "He's panning dough, I reckon." + +"Oh, look!" cried Virgie. + +For Harry had sprung up at the approach of another man around the corner +of the cabin--was telling him to get out--the man would not go--jumped +for Harry--got the pan of dough square on the head--and they closed and +swayed, wrestling. Shep appeared, to circle and bark and snap. + +Virgie screamed. + +"That's Pine Knot Ike!" gasped Terry, jumping forward. + +And George, dropping pick and spade and ducking from his blanket roll, +fairly streaked it, shouting and flourishing his wooden-hammer revolver. +He easily beat Terry. + +Suddenly Pine Knot Ike went staggering from one of Harry's clever trips, +and saw George and the big revolver. Away he lunged, legging it and +making an odd sight with his head and shoulders plastered by dough, and +Shep nipping at his trousers' seat. + +"You'd better get," threatened George, pursuing, "or I'll shoot you into +little bits!" + +Harry quickly drew back his arm and threw--the piece of rock struck Ike +between the shoulders. Whereupon, as if thinking that he really had been +shot, Ike uttered a loud yelp, gave a prodigious leap, and legged +faster. + +"Bang!" shouted George. + +When Terry and Virgie arrived, George was returning, considerably +swelled up with the triumph of his wooden-hammer gun, and Harry was +laughing. + +"There go four dollars' worth of dough and my pocket piece. Howdy, +Virgie? Hello, George! Much obliged. Where are the other folks?" + +"They're down at Cherry Creek. We came----" + +"What was the matter? What'd he want?" interrupted Terry. "The big +lummix!" + +"I don't know. He was hanging 'round--I 'spied him poking about on that +other claim yonder, and when I ordered him off with the shot-gun he said +something about 'taking it out of my hide.' So he sneaked in on me when +I wasn't looking. I don't think my hide would pan out much, but he might +get good color out of Terry's and my clothes." + +"Aw----!" blurted George, who now had read the sign. "'Gregory Gulch +Bakery! Harry Revere & Co.'! What do you mean by that? I thought you had +a gold mine!" + +"So we have," chuckled Harry. "At two dollars a pie, and a dollar and a +half a day loading Pat Casey's sluice." + +George indignantly flung his hat on the ground. + +"But I didn't come 'way out here to bake pies or work for a dollar and a +half a day," he accused, as if they were to blame. "We-all thought you +were rich, and I was going to dig on my own hook and get rich, too." + +Virgie, who did not understand, but sensed a disappointment, began to +wail. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +ANOTHER CALL FOR HUSTLE + + +They calmed Virgie, George stalked out and glumly brought in his brand +new pick and spade, and during dinner Harry and Terry tried to explain. + +"You see, we've got our mines ready, all right," concluded Terry, "but +we can't work 'em." + +"Why don't you make those fellows give you water, then?" demanded the +spunky George. "Let's all go over there tonight with our guns and open a +ditch. If my gun would shoot I'd go alone." + +"Trouble is, their guns do shoot, I reckon," drawled Harry. "And another +trouble is, the water all around is petering out anyway. That stream +below is scarcely a trickle. Pretty soon we'll be carrying our drinking +and cooking water from Clear Creek, and that's a mighty long tote." + +"Pat says there's talk of digging a big ditch and fetching water into +the gulch from a river over yonder," informed Terry. "But it will cost +money, and anybody who uses the water will have to buy by the inch." + +"Why don't we wait for it?" proposed George. "You've got some money +saved up, and you're making more, aren't you? Your father didn't say +anything about wanting his hundred dollars. He grub-staked you, on a +chance." + +"Yes, and his chance is powerful slim," retorted Harry. "He can do more +with the hundred dollars than he can with a dry prospect. A hundred +dollars is all we've been offered for it, and so his half interest +amounts to only $50, and he'd lose out. We'll pay him what we borrowed +and we'll do the waiting." + +"Did they sell the ranches?" asked Terry. + +"Part trade, and the rest is to come out of the crops. Guess they +haven't got very much cash yet," answered George. + +"That settles it," pronounced Harry. "When you go down you can take our +dust. I reckon there's near a hundred dollars." + +"I'm not going down, for a while," declared George. "I'll throw in with +you fellows. Guess I can find something to do." + +"What!" + +"That's right," and George stubbornly wagged his head. "Maybe I won't +get rich, but I can stick. I can dig around here, can't I? And tote +water and help with the cooking?" + +"Hurrah!" cheered Terry. "He can have the True Blue and dig there; but I +shouldn't wonder if Pat would hire him. We need another man." + +"I can dig better than I can bake," admitted George. "I'll do something +to earn my keep. I mean to stay and help out, Virgie can go back in the +morning with those people who brought us in. They're just looking +about. Where does the True Blue lie? Can I have it? Have you dug much +there?" + +"No. It's a drier claim than this. The water was on our side, so we +thought we'd clean up the Golden Prize first." + +"How much land is the True Blue?" + +"One hundred feet long and fifty feet wide, same as the Golden Prize. We +run one hundred feet from the cabin and into that little draw, and then +the True Blue begins." + +George stood up and gazed. His new property did not seem to impress him +very favorably; and indeed it was not especially inviting, being a bare +rocky slope, pitted here and there with the shallow prospect holes of +the preacher. + +"Shucks!" he criticized. "It's mostly dirt and stones. I haven't got +even that trough." + +"You mean 'sluice,'" grandly corrected Terry. "'Trough' is a tenderfoot +word. All you can do is pan, anyway, with a bucket of water. But I've +got to go back to Pat." + +"Might as well ask him for a job for me, will you?" responded George. +"I'll take it unless I strike things rich first, and can make more money +panning." + +Terry trudged away. George helped Harry with the dishes, then carried a +bucketful of water to his claim and proceeded to "mine." This was +working under difficulties, and Virgie, who had followed close after, +proudly lugging his spade, soon returned. + +"I don't think that's much fun," she stated. + +"Well, it isn't," agreed Harry. "And 'most of the folks who expected to +get rich easy think the same way." + +Presently George gave up, out of humor. He was not only tired, but hot +and grimy, too. + +"There's not a blamed sign of gold in that whole claim," he crossly +declared. "You fellows got cheated. You can have it back again. I'll dig +for Pat Casey. Will he pay me a dollar and a half a day?" + +"He ought to pay you the same he pays Terry. That's three dollars a day +for you two, and four dollars a day for me, and some days I make +five--one day I made seven, and on Sundays I'm sure of six--! Why, +there's a gold mine in itself. We'll be flying high," encouraged Harry. + +George braced up. But-- + +"Huh!" he grunted. "'Tisn't a pound a day, though." + +"Terry's coming," piped Virgie. + +So he was--not only coming, but bringing his tools with him, and also a +decidedly disgusted aspect. + +"Don't you work any more?" called George. "Doesn't he want me?" + +"Naw!" growled Terry, throwing down his pick and spade. "He's busted. +And he doesn't want any more pies, either. Here are the last two. He +can't eat 'em--says he has indigestion." + +"Well, don't step on them," warned Harry. "We can eat them. But how is +he 'busted'?" + +"It isn't his claim," answered Terry. "That is, maybe he doesn't own it +at all. Some men he was arguing with this morning say it's theirs. So +nobody'll work there till things are settled up. And Pat's as mad as a +hornet. They say all the dust in his oyster-can is theirs, too, because +he got it out of that hole." + +"Whew!" mused Harry. "The Extra Limited & Co. seem to be more limited +than ever. And that's hard luck for Pat." + +"What'll we all do, then?" queried George, aghast. "Light out and go +down to Denver?" + +"Not by a jugful!" And Harry swung the two pies. "We're here to stick. I +reckon three able-bodied men and a dog and a nice yellow mule can earn a +living somehow." + +"I'll stay," asserted Terry. + +"So will I," asserted George. + +"I'll stay. I'll help Harry cook," proffered Virgie. + +Harry picked her up and kissed her. + +"No, you can't, Virgie. You go to the folks and tell them we're well and +hustling and never say die, and pretty soon we'll be millionaires. But +you see you can't stay with us, because we're liable to be traveling +'round, looking for the gold, and we may have to sleep in the rain, and +sometimes there won't be much to cook." + +Virgie wept. She was only a little girl, you know. + +"But I want a mine," she said. "Don't I get any mine?" + +"Of course you do," assured Harry. "You can have the mine George was +working on. It's named the True Blue. George doesn't want it. And it's a +real mine--see those holes?" + +"Sure. You can have it, for all of me." + +Virgie's tears dried instantly. + +"All right. I'll dig in it." And off she hurried, with George's pan, in +a moment to be occupied poking into the dirt with a stick. + +"Let's hold a council, boys," proposed Harry. "Pat was my best customer, +for pies, and I don't think I'll bother any more with this cooking +business. I reckon we'll have to make a tour of the diggin's and offer +the services of three men and a mule. Jenny'll need to help, if she +expects to eat. There's not much free grazing left around these claims." + +While they were discussing ways and means, Virgie toiled in from her +"mine," carrying the empty pan. + +"I sha'n't dig any more," she announced. "I'm tired." + +"What have you got in your hand, Virgie?" + +"A piece of my mine," and Virgie extended her prize. "I'm going to take +a piece of my mine down to show papa." + +"That's a good idea," approved Harry. "Take him a sample, so as to prove +to him." + +"Is it gold?" invited Virgie. + +"I shouldn't wonder," said Harry, kindly. "It looks just like the +pocket-piece I threw at Ike. Wait. I'll see." + +But although he searched among the stones and bushes at the place where +the pocket-piece might have bounded from Ike's back, he did not come +across it, and neither did Terry nor George. + +"It was the same kind of quartz, though," he insisted. "Where did you +find your piece, Virgie?" + +"Over there," answered Virgie, vaguely. "I don't remember. Can't I have +it? Isn't it gold? That's a gold mine." + +"Maybe it is gold, from the True Blue mine. You can tell your father you +mined it," bantered Harry. + +"Goody!" And Virgie tightly clutched it. "And I can buy Duke with it. +They're going to make him fight a bear and I don't want him to fight a +bear." + +"What's that?" Harry's voice rang sharply. "Who said so?" + +"Sure," affirmed George. "We saw him, in a show. And there's a sign up +telling folks to bring in a bear and have a match." + +"Great Scotland! Why didn't you mention it before?" Harry was visibly +disturbed. + +"I did, to Terry." + +"Yes, he did, but I'd forgotten," supported Terry. "I was intending to +speak about it, but these other things put me off the track." + +"What'd you sell him for?" taxed George. "Shouldn't think you'd have +sold him. He's awful peaked, shut up there." + +"Well, we didn't sell him for that, anyway," declared Harry. "Good-bye. +You fellows stay here. I'm going." + +"Where?" + +"Down there--to Denver and Auraria. We'll go and rescue Duke, won't we, +Virgie?" + +"_You_ don't need to go, do you? The folks can rescue him. We'll tell +Virgie to ask them to," proposed Terry. "They'll do it." + +"No, sir!" rapped Harry. "I got him into that mess and I'll get him out +if it takes every cent we have. We can pay Father Richards by selling +the mine, if necessary; but Duke sha'n't fight any bear. That wasn't the +bargain." And he bolted into the cabin. + +Terry gazed at George; George solemnly gazed at Terry. It was a day of +sudden changes in plans. + +"Shucks! Duke oughtn't to be made to fight a bear, though," murmured +Terry. + +"I should say not--I call that downright cruel," agreed George. "But the +bear wasn't there yet. Anyway, maybe the man won't sell." + +"He'll have to, if Harry once gets after him. And the folks will help +now," reminded Terry, hopefully. + +"I'll help," chirped Virgie. "I'll help with my mine." + +Harry bustled out. He had his blanket and a small package in some +sacking. + +"Of course there's no use in the rest of you going," he said. "I've +taken most of our 'pile,' Terry, but I've left you a pinch of dust and +the two pies, and there's flour and stuff yet. I'll leave you Jenny, +too. You and George and Jenny can be getting me a job while you're +getting for yourselves. I'll be back as soon as I save Duke from being +bear meat. If you can't find any paying jobs here, sell the blamed old +claims, and we'll prospect in better diggin's. Climb on your pony, +Virgie. Tell 'em good-bye." + +"You mustn't sell my mine," objected Virgie, from the saddle of the +Indian pony. "I don't want it sold." + +"Well, they can sell the Golden Prize, if they have to," laughed Harry. +"So long, fellows. You'll see Duke and me later." + +Away he strode at rapid limp--dear old Harry!--with Virgie on her +ambling pony keeping pace beside him, into the gulch and on. + +"Guess we'll have to rustle," spoke Terry, to George, as they watched +him and Virgie out of sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +NEVER SAY DIE! + + +Gregory Gulch was now very different in appearance from that same gulch +into which the Extra Limited had entered about a month ago. It resembled +a noisy, booming new town. Almost every foot of lower ground was +occupied. A great deal of the timber had been cut from the ridges and +slopes, to be used in cabins and sluices and for fuel; and the axes were +merrily ringing, in tune with the staccato of hammers and the thud of +picks. + +More families had arrived, so that women were frequently seen, and some +of the cabins looked exceedingly "homey." There were many more grocery +stores and general supply stores, in tents or log buildings. Where +Editor William Byers' tent had stood, half-way up the gulch, town lots +for the new Central City had been staked out and were selling as high as +$500 apiece! + +Flour was $20 a sack of 100 pounds, eggs were $2.50 a dozen, and milk +fifty cents a quart. But money was very cheap, and prices seemed to cut +little figure, for were not men digging, digging, digging, and emptying +their dirt into rockers, or carrying it in gunny sacks and in sleds +over pine-trunk tracks, to their sluices, and washing out the dust (some +of them) to the amount of $200 a day? + +At night the hundreds of camp fires lighted the gulch redly from side to +side; and already there had been a great forest fire, on the new trail +in from the Platte, which had burned to death three men and a dog. + +The trail itself was lively, said George, with gold-seekers still +trudging into the mountains, singing, "I'm bound to the land of gold," +and under Table Mountain had been started, on Clear Creek, a town named +"Golden City." It contained about thirty cabins and nearly a thousand +people, living in the cabins or camping! + +And Denver and Auraria were booming, also. + +Amidst such apparent prosperity it did seem as though persons anxious to +work could find work that would pay. But the trouble was that Gregory +Gulch had become over-populated. The newcomers asserted that the +old-timers, like the Gregory crowd, had located too much ground, and +that the claims ought to be cut down from one hundred feet to +twenty-five feet, so as to give more people a chance. This movement did +not prove out, because when a miners' meeting was held, to make changes +in the regulations, the old-timers put in their own men as officers and +won. + +Consequently, what with the high prices of food and lumber, and the many +claims that yielded scarcely anything, and the constant rush to get +other claims wherever possible, a lot of people were glad to turn their +hands to any kind of work. + +Terry and George tramped clear up the gulch, inquiring at sluice and +rocker and prospect hole, and even at tents and cabins. + +"Need any help?" Or: "Do you know of a job we can get?" Or: "Could you +use a couple of husky boys around here?" + +Some parties were so busy that they only shook their heads, without +pausing. Others directed them on, or to right or left. But after having +volunteered in vain as miners, carpenters, and even as wood-choppers, +they reached the head of the gulch, and turned back. + +"Well, guess we'll go down to the other end," sighed Terry. + +"This sure is a tough proposition," said George, using professional +language. "Anyway, we've got enough to live on for a day or two, haven't +we? Wonder when Harry'll be back." + +"He won't come back till he has Duke; you can depend on that. Maybe he +hasn't money enough." + +"He can borrow from the folks." + +"He won't, though. He'd rather work and earn some more." + +"You can sell your mine, can't you, if you have to?" asked George. "He +said sell it. And we can sell the True Blue. I'd as lief." + +"We gave it to Virgie," reminded Terry. + +"Aw, she wouldn't care. It's no good, is it? It doesn't own any water." + +"Well, 'tisn't as good as the Golden Prize," admitted Terry. "Maybe +we'll sell the Golden Prize and find something better. But I'd like to +wait till Harry comes. I'd hate to sell it to that Pine Knot Ike gang." + +"They offered you $100, though, didn't they?" + +"Y-yes," admitted Terry. "It's better than nothing, of course." + +They two (for Shep had been left to guard the cabin) were retracing +their steps by a slightly different route down the opposite side of the +gulch, so as not to miss any chances, and now came upon the wheel-barrow +man. + +"Why, hello, young Pike's Peak Limited," he greeted. "How's the +gold-seeking business?" + +"We're not gold-seeking, we're job-seeking," explained Terry. "Do you +know of a job for a couple like us?" + +The wheel-barrow man appeared to have packed up. His blanket roll and a +fry-pan and tin cup were laid ready in front of his closed cabin. + +"What's the matter? Didn't your prospects pan out?" he queried. + +"We haven't any water, so we quit. Then I worked for Pat Casey, and he +quit, and we can't even sell pies," confessed Terry. + +"Where's your other partner?" + +"He went down to Denver and Auraria, to buy our buffalo back. They're +trying to match Duke against a bear." + +"Pshaw! That so? I'm going down to Denver myself, to look about in time +before snow flies. I understand it begins to snow up here in September, +and everybody'll be driven out." + +"What'll you do with your mine? You've got one, haven't you?" asked +George. + +"Sure pop, young man. And it's recorded, too, on the district books; and +if anybody jumps it while I'm gone there'll be a heap of trouble for +him. It's in black and white, described according to miners' law. +Say--if you boys really want to work, you go on to Gregory Point, near +the mouth of the gulch, and maybe you can get a day's work, or several +days' work, on the new church they're putting up there for a preacher." + +"Come on, George," bade Terry. And--"Much obliged," he called back. +"Where's your wheel-barrow?" + +"Played out at last. Don't need it, anyway. Can carry all I've got on my +back." + +"What's 'recorded'?" queried George, as they hurried off. "Are our +claims recorded?" + +"Don't think so," puffed Terry. "Nobody told us to record 'em. They're +ours, and we've been sitting on them right alone. I'll ask Harry when he +comes back." + +"Or we can ask Pat Casey," proposed George. + +They did not find Pat. His pit was idle and he was away--hunting +witnesses to the sale by which he had bought the prospect. But they +found the church, or rather the site of the church, on Gregory Point, as +that was called, near the mouth of the gulch. Already a platform like a +floor had been constructed; several men were busy hauling logs and +leveling the ground with spades for another building; and the Yale +preacher from the True Blue claim had his sleeves rolled up and was +working with the rest. It was to be his church! + +He warmly welcomed Terry, and shook hands with George also. + +"Yes, indeed; plenty of work here," he jubilated--and Terry's heart beat +expectantly. "We need strong arms. Bring along ax and spade, and pitch +in. But," he added, "everything is donated, of course. The labor, +material, ground--all is a gift to help the good cause. The people in +the gulch are mighty generous, and their payment will come in this +opportunity regularly to worship God instead of always worshipping gold. +They can't live in a civilized fashion without a church. So the quicker +we have such a place, the better. What do you say? Want to help?" + +Terry looked at George; George looked at Terry. + +"I'd rather do that than do nothing," blurted George. "Only----" + +"So would I," answered Terry. "But you see," he said, to the preacher, +"those claims have played out----" + +"That's too bad," sympathized the preacher. "Both of them?" + +"Yes, sir. We can't mine 'em till we have water. The water's gone. And +our jobs busted, and I reckon we'll have to earn our keep. But we'd as +lief help here till we strike another job." + +"All right. Bully for you! To work once in a while for something besides +money never hurts anybody," assured the preacher. "I have to do a lot of +that myself. Bring down your tools whenever you feel like it. I expect +some of the men will be working here all night because they can't spare +the time during the day. We're going to finish the church and my cabin +before Sunday. But maybe you'd rather wait till morning. It's nearly +supper time now. Come after supper, though, to the prayer-meeting. We +hold the first prayer-meeting, around this platform. And I'll want you +to join the Sunday-school." + +They left the enthusiastic preacher and his volunteers building the +first church in the diggin's. + +"Might as well go home, I guess," remarked Terry. + +Twilight was empurpling the hills when they arrived. This had been a +lively day, but not a very successful one. + +"Anyway, we've got enough to eat," quoth George. "And if we work on the +church that may lead to something else. We'll keep busy." + +"Sure," agreed Terry. "Keep a-going, as Harry said, all the way out. +Keep a-going." + +By the time that they had finished supper and washed the dishes the +gulch was again redly outlined by the hundred camp fires. The sounds of +axes and picks and saws had ceased, and there arose the hum of +conversation, broken by shouts and laughs and occasional bits of music. + +As they stumped along their way to the prayer-meeting (which was quite +an event) they passed a tent where somebody was playing the violin--and +farther on, in a cabin, a group of men were singing "Home, Sweet Home," +to the tune of an accordian. + +The prayer-meeting was being held, sure enough. There on the point was +the platform, lighted by torches and surrounded by a throng of people +sitting on the ground and stumps and boxes and logs, listening to the +preacher. Or--no! + +"That's the Lord's Prayer! They're all saying the Lord's Prayer!" +uttered George, awed. + +So they were--or at least from this distance the cadence sounded like +the Lord's Prayer, repeated in unison by those whiskered men of flannel +shirts and high boots and revolvers and by the tanned women in shabby +calico dresses. A great sight that was--and a very good sound, for these +parts or any parts. + +"There's another meeting!" whispered Terry, for he did not feel like +speaking aloud when the Lord's Prayer was being recited. "Haven't got +two preachers, have we?" + +For just below the prayer-meeting a man was standing in an open wagon +and addressing another crowd. He was talking fast, the listeners jostled +and craned, and the flare of the pitch-pine torch planted on the wagon +lighted their hairy, up-turned faces. + +"We'll have to go and see," uttered George; who, as a tenderfoot, was +eager to see everything. + +Presently the words of the man in the wagon-box could be heard above the +refrain of the Lord's Prayer around the platform. He was somebody whom +Terry never had noticed before in the gulch--a thin, slab-sided man with +carroty hair and beard and dressed in prospector's clothes; wore a +revolver; no preacher, he. Certainly not, for---- + +"Yes, gentlemen," he was saying, "not more'n fifty miles from here +there's a place where every one o' you can wash your pound o' gold dust +to a man per day. Me and my partners are the first white men in there; +we've made our locations and our laws and have started a new camp +that'll be a world-beater. Tarryall, we've named it; in the big South +Park: the best and richest country on the face o' the earth. As soon as +I get provisions here I'm goin' back in, and I'll take any o' you who +want to go with me, on the understandin' you'll respect our rights as +first locators. There's plenty room, gentlemen--and a pound o' gold a +day per man waitin' to be dug. It's yours, gentlemen, if you want it. +We'll welcome you to Tarryall. Only fifty miles to fortune, remember. +I'll show you the way, but I start early in the mornin'." + +The crowd jostled excitedly. On the outskirts George clutched Terry hard +by the sleeve. + +"Let's go!" he exclaimed. "Did you hear? A pound a day! That beats these +diggin's. Cracky! I knew there was some place where a fellow could dig +his pound a day. We can go and make our strike, and then 'twon't matter +whether we sell these claims in here or not." + +"All right; let's," agreed Terry, fired with the same idea. "We'll +locate for ourselves and Harry, too; or if they won't allow boys to +locate in their own names we'll locate in Harry's name and my dad's and +your dad's! Harry'd never go to any of those other big strikes--the +Bobtail, or the one in Russell Gulch, or a lot more. We've stuck here, +when we might have been getting rich somewhere else." + +"Come on back to the cabin and pack up," urged George. + +They turned, when a voice at their elbow stayed them. + +"Got the fever again, have you?" + +He was the "Root Hog or Die" professor. + +"Guess so," grinned Terry. "You've been away, haven't you? Did Green +Russell find you a mine? Do you know that man in the wagon? Has he made +a big strike?" + +"Never saw him before and don't know anything about him," answered the +professor. "Yes, I've got a few prospects, but I'm holding them for more +water. Just now I'm recorder for this district. They elected me only the +other day. How are you doing? Where's Harry?" + +"We're waiting for water, too. He's down at Denver, but he's coming +back. Will you record our claims? Do we have to record them?" + +"No, you don't have to. It might be safer, though. But I can't record +them tonight. The books are locked up. What are they?" + +"The Golden Prize and the True Blue. They're over there." + +"I know. You look me up at the office first thing in the morning and +we'll record them." + +"We won't have time. We're going to follow that man in the wagon to the +new strike," explained Terry. "Nobody'd said anything about recording +until this evening. But we'll be back." + +"Well, I'll make a memorandum, then," proposed the professor, "so you'll +be safer. Nobody's liable to jump your claims while you're gone, if they +can't be worked. The gulch is full of such claims. But you look me up +as soon as you can." + +"All right. Much obliged," replied Terry. "Maybe we won't want those +claims after we've been to the new strike." + +"We'd better be going. We've got to find Jenny and pack our stuff," +urged George, impatient. + +"Good luck to you," called the professor, as they hastened away. + +"I'd like to surprise Harry with a regular gold mine, by the time he +sees us again," uttered Terry. + +"Sure. We'll leave a note in the cabin saying we've gone to get rich," +enthused George. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +TO THE POUND-A-DAY + + +There was very little time to be lost. When in the morning they had +eaten breakfast and had packed Jenny (who did not seem to object to a +change from doing nothing all day) with a buffalo robe and a blanket and +the picks and spades and cooking stuff and some provisions, and had +placed a note for Harry--"Gone to get rich. Will see you later"--and +sallied down the gulch, Terry with his shot-gun on his shoulder and +George with his wooden-hammer revolver at his belt, and each with a +gold-pan slung on his back, the procession for the new diggin's already +had started. + +It looked quite like business, too--a long file composed of men riding +horses or mules, and of men driving pack animals, and of other men afoot +and carrying their packs, pressing south, out of the gulch, evidently +following the lead of the Tarryall man. + +"Once we locate our pound of gold a day, these other diggin's can go +hang, can't they?" puffed George, as they hurried. + +"I should say!" concurred Terry. "All we'll do will be to come back and +get Harry and sell to that Pine Knot Ike crowd, and then we'll light +out again. Glad we didn't say where we're bound for. When we sell we can +pretend to Ike that we're plumb disgusted." + +"Sure. Let's push up in front." + +They were fast-footed and Jenny was long-legged, and they passed one +after another of their rivals, until they were well toward the van. The +wagon-man guide could be seen in the advance, guiding up a steep divide +between the North Clear Creek and the South Clear Creek. The route +appeared to be by an old Indian trail; and the divide itself grew into a +mountain. Higher and higher led the trail--a tough climb that made the +procession straggle. + +It was a great relief when the trail conducted down again, on the other +side, to South Clear Creek, and crossed, and turned up, through a +beautiful country, to a couple of lonely lakes. But presently it began +to climb over another mountain! + +Terry limped, George limped, everyone afoot limped, no stop had been +made for lunch. Everybody was afraid that somebody else would get to the +pound-a-day first. + +"Wonder how far we've come now?" panted George. + +"You're a tenderfoot. You're petered out already!" accused Terry. "We +aren't half there." + +"I don't limp any worse than you do," retorted George. + +"Keep a-going." + +"Keep a-going." + +On top of this mountain they all in the advance ran into a snowstorm, +while the people lower down, behind, evidently were warm and +comfortable. Then night fell--a real January night--and camp had to be +made. + +However, George was game. He proved to be a good campaigner, for a +tenderfoot; and as an old-timer Terry of course needs must pretend that +this kind of camping was nothing at all. So they pitched in together and +cooked supper like the rest of the crowd, and went early to bed on top +of the blanket and underneath the buffalo robe. + +"Jenny won't thank us any for bringing her from summer right into +winter, I reckon," murmured George, as he and Terry spooned against each +other, to keep warm. + +"No," replied Terry. "This 'pound of gold a day' song doesn't mean +anything to her yet. But it'll be warm down in Tarryall, they say--just +like back at the Gregory diggin's." + +"We ought to get there tomorrow." + +"Depends on how many more of these mountains there are," reasoned Terry. +"Without that Tarryall man to guide us we'd all be lost, sure." + +On and on and on, into the south and southwest, continued the march: +down and up, across more creeks, across more mountains, into canyons and +out again; and when night arrived, no South Park and Tarryall diggin's +were yet in sight. Nothing was in sight but thick timber and wild rocky +ridges extending to snow-line. Near or distant, before, behind, on +either side, the landscape was the same. + +"A few miles, boys, and we'll be there," promised the Tarryall man. +"'Bout tomorrow noon, say. Then for your pound a day." + +"Seems as though that pound of gold a day was always ten or forty miles +ahead of a fellow," complained Terry. "First it was at Cherry Creek, +then it was at Gregory Gulch, and now it's somewhere yonder. He said +fifty miles, and I bet we've hoofed a hundred and still we haven't +struck it yet. Guess Harry and I'll have to sell the Golden Prize so as +to get us some boots. Look at mine!" + +"We'll make moccasins or trade for some with the Injuns," consoled +George. "When you're getting your pound a day you won't care." + +The straggling procession was well worn out by two days of long, hard +marching afoot and ahorse, and most of the animals were foot-sore. But +tonight's camp was more cheerful, because the new diggin's lay close +before, over the next divide. Yes, the Tarryall man had promised truly, +for about eleven o'clock in the morning the head of the procession +shouted and cheered and waved. + +"South Park, boys--and Tarryall's in sight!" + +"Hooray!" cheered everybody, as the news spread back from mouth to mouth +and ear to ear. + +"Gwan, Jenny!" bade George, clapping her on the gaunt flank; and driving +her, he and Terry limped faster. + +Because they were boys they had been well treated, on the way over, but +now when new diggin's were so close at hand they might expect no favors. +Every party must rustle for itself. + +"Jenny! Gwan! Do you want to be left? Gwan! Hep with you!" + +"Hep with you!" echoed Terry. + +Jenny did her best; before and behind, the other outfits were doing +their very best--crashing recklessly through the brush and timber and +sliding and tumbling over the rocks. The head of the procession had +disappeared over another little rise--perhaps was already in and at work +locating the best pound-a-day claims! + +"Jenny! Jenny! Yip! Gwan!" urged George and Terry. And with their rivals +treading on their heels they, too, mounted the little rise, gained the +top, and now in the clear could gaze anxiously beyond. + +"I see it! I see the camp!" exclaimed Terry. + +"So do I. But, whew! this is a big place, isn't it?" puffed George. + +South Park was indeed large, and also beautiful; being an immense flat, +miles wide and miles long, grassy and green and dotted with timber +patches and bare round hills--yes, and with buffalo and deer, too!--and +well watered by winding streams and the snows of high encircling +mountains. The sight might well make one gasp, but another sight should +be attended to first: that of the leading gold-seekers spurring their +horses and mules diagonally across in a race for a glimmer of tents set +amidst willows and pines against the west edge. + +And pellmell, hobbling and shouting and straining, all the ragged +company strung out after. + +"If we won't be first, we won't be last, just the same," panted Terry. + +The Tarryall diggin's resolved into three or four tents and several +bough huts along a creek where it formed a broad gulch as it issued from +the mountains. The gulch was being worked with rockers and pans, and +claim stakes seemed to be planted clear through, from side to side. In +fact, when, breathless, their eyes roving eagerly, Terry and George +arrived, business-bent, it looked as though the whole ground had already +been occupied by the discoverers! + +"Tarryall! This isn't Tarryall--it ought to be named Grab-all!" was +denouncing one of the leaders who had won the race from the last ridge. +"What do you think, boys?" he addressed, as the other Gregory Gulch +in-comers paused and jostled uncertainly. "There are twelve of these +Tarryall fellows, and they've each of 'em staked off two thousand feet! +That means twenty-four thousand feet of claims--nearly five miles! Is +that fair? No! By miners' law a claim's one hundred feet." + +"You're right. One hundred feet." + +"Tear up those stakes." + +"No thousand or two thousand foot business goes with us!" + +"They've invited us in here. They've got to give us a show." + +"Grab-all! Grab-all! That's the name for this camp: Grab-all!" + +The murmur of responses was instant. The Gregory Gulch men surged +angrily. The Tarryall men--twelve, now that the guide from Gregory Gulch +had joined them--stood in a compact little group. They were a sturdy, +rough-and-ready squad, well armed and able to take care of themselves. +Their spokesman, a burly, shaggy-bearded individual, stepped out a pace, +and tapped the butt of his revolver significantly. + +"That's tall talk, gentlemen," he said, "but it's wasted on us. This is +our camp. We've discovered this ground. We came in here first, where no +white men ever prospected before and where the Injuns are liable to +raise our hair any moment; we've drawn our own regulations, and I reckon +we're going to hold what we've got. No white men, or Injuns either, can +tell us what we're to do. If you want peace you can have it; if you want +a fight, you can have it; for here we are, and anybody that tries to +jump a claim that we've got marked out will be making his last jump--you +can bank on that. There's plenty ground left; don't you touch ours." + +For a minute things looked ugly, as the Gregory Gulch crowd growled +indignantly, and the Tarryall squad waited, watchful and unafraid. Then +the other man spoke. + +"Let's have dinner, boys. After that we'll prospect 'round and hold a +little meeting, and see whether this camp is to be Tarryall or Grab-all. +Tarryall is what we were invited to join, but if these fellows think +we're in here to buy them out because we can't find anything else to do, +they're mighty mistaken. It's a smooth scheme, but it won't work." + +"We can run 'em out, all right, if they don't play fair," boasted +George, as he and Terry imitated the rest of the company and prepared +dinner. + +"I don't know. There'd be a lot of men killed," reasoned Terry. "They +were in here first, and we promised to respect their rights as +locators." + +"We weren't told they'd staked out all the ground, though. They're +allowed only a hundred feet at a time." + +"That's the Gregory Gulch rule, but this isn't Gregory Gulch; it's a +different district," argued Terry, who felt that he'd rather prospect +than fight. "Maybe we all can find thousand-feet claims." + +"Well, we can't find 'em in Tarryall," stormed George. "And Tarryall's +the place we were brought to. I guess they expect us to buy. It's a +put-up job." + +The meeting was held immediately after dinner. Hot speeches were made, +and several resolutions were passed: one changing the name from Tarryall +to "Grab-all," and another declaring that all claims should be one +hundred feet. However, nobody seemed quite up to enforcing this new rule +on the claims already staked. Amidst threats and bluster and glowering +looks the Tarryall squad warily resumed their daily work, and gradually +the Gregory Gulch crowd spread out, searching here and there for color, +but taking care not to trespass. + +"No fight," decided George, as if disappointed. "It's going to be just a +grab-all. Get your tools if you want your pound a day." + +"That's what we came for," reminded Terry, as they shouldered pick and +spade apiece. "We won't wait for any fight. Come on; leave the stuff +here." + +"Somebody'll steal your shot-gun." + +"Don't think so. I can't carry that, too! But I can put it in one of +those Tarryall tents." + +"I'll wear my revolver. I don't leave that," pronounced George, wagging +his head. + +"Sure. You ought to travel well heeled, in these parts, sonny." One of +the Tarryall men had strolled over. "If you don't, that Dutchman will +take your scalp." + +"What Dutchman?" demanded Terry. + +"He's holed up in a gulch about a mile yonder. He's like the rest of us +original discoverers--what he has he's bound to keep. We all give him a +clear field, and I'd advise you to do the same. It's an unhealthy +neighborhood hereabouts for claim jumpers. You're two plucky lads. Any +more in your party?" + +"No, sir. We're our own outfit," informed Terry. "But we've got another +partner, and some prospects, back in the Gregory diggin's." + +"Do you know where we can dig a pound a day here? That man who brought +us in said you were digging a pound a day," challenged George. + +"So we are--or will be as soon as we get our lumber in place for +sluices. But you newcomers won't locate any pound a day ground in this +gulch. We've seen to that and we don't propose to be bullied out of our +rights as discoverers. We risked our lives to come in here; but of +course we'd be glad of company. We own the ground and we own the water. +You fellows find your ground and your water, and all together we'll +stand off the Injuns. I thought I'd warn you about the Dutchman, +though--you two boys, at any rate. I don't want to see you harmed. You +were speaking about leaving your scatter-gun," he concluded, more +gruffly, to Terry. "That's all right. I'll keep an eye on it for you. If +you don't bother the Dutchman he won't bother you." + +"He'd better not," asserted George. "I'm going to wear _my_ gun. Who is +he and what does he want around here?" + +"Crazy, I told you. Thinks he has a strike, and maybe he has. But it's +well to let a crazy man alone, and as long as he stays away from us we +stay away from him. The park's big enough for that. Dutchman Diggin's, +we've named his gulch. One of the boys happened in there, by accident, +and was run out at the point of a shot-gun. All we see of the Dutchman +is when he's hunting, and even then he's not far away from home, you +bet. Now, that gulch is just beyond the second bunch of timber, south. +See? And I'm warning you, friendly, because you're young." + +"We'll watch out. Much obliged," promised Terry. + +"Yes, but he'd better watch out, too," blustered George. "We're no +tenderfeet. This gun of mine is a humdinger. He won't know it's got a +wooden hammer, and it might shoot." + +"Pshaw, now!" laughed the Tarryall man. "You certainly walk kind of +tender-footed. But go ahead and find your pound a day." + +"Guess we'll try south, just the same," said Terry, to George, as they +struck off. "We can dodge the Dutchman, and there aren't many of the +crowd down that way." + +"Where'll we begin?" queried George, keeping pace. + +"Whenever we come to a low place where there's water we'll pan for +color. That's the only way," instructed Terry. "The gulches are the best +places." + +"Well, we'll have to locate our own diggin's pretty quick and hustle +back for Harry, or we'll be all out of grub," declared George. + +This search for color was fascinating work, especially when they had the +field practically to themselves. There were so many likely places, one +after another. Terry planned to pattern after John Gregory, and follow +the color right to the source--that is, follow it when once they had +found it. But to find it was the chief difficulty. + +They panned faithfully clear up the first gulch, to its head--passing a +few other "panners." Then they took the trail of a side draw and crossed +over to another gulch and panned there. Once they thought that they had +struck something, but it proved to be only a trace, and they lost even +that. The country was getting wild and lonely. + +"Don't suppose there are any Injuns watching, do you?" suddenly +suggested George, as they were crossing a little pass that appeared to +lead to still another draw or gulch. + +"No." Pine and rock basked peacefully and innocent in the afternoon +sunshine. "Nobody said anything about 'em. Shep would smell 'em. He +hates Injuns. We'll try this next gulch and come out at the lower end, +and then make tracks for camp. The sun's going to set." + +They crossed over the ridge and descended. + +"She looks like a good one, this time, doesn't she!" appraised George, +while they strode and slid and leaped down the short slope, with Shep +scouting on either hand. + +"We're too high up for water, though," criticized Terry. "Can't pan +without water." + +The gulch was a small one, and dry. They followed along the bottom, +where a stream course had worn the pebbles round and scored the soil +into banks. + +"I hear water," uttered Terry. "There's a stream ahead, all right." + +The gulch was joined by another gulch entering at an angle--and by a +stream, as well. + +"Here's your good place to pan," exulted Terry. "See the gravel and the +bars? Sort of an eddy. Regular pound-a-day place!" + +"Yes; and somebody else has been digging, too!" growled George, +disgusted. "Can't we ever discover anything?" + +"They aren't digging now. Those are only gopherings. We'll get deeper. +That's where the big strikes lie--down deep on bed-rock," encouraged +Terry. + +"Dig deep, boy," bade George. + +"Dig deep, for a pound a day." + +And they set to work. George's spade clinked on rock, and at blade +length he carefully dumped dirt and gravel into his pan. + +"Golly, I believe I see gold!" he breathed. Terry paused to await +results. George panned feverishly--grew more and more excited. "Hurrah! +Look-ee here! We've struck it!" His pan, not yet fully cleared, was +sparkling and yellow all over the bottom! "We've struck it!" + +"We've struck it!" cheered Terry, forgetful of his own pan awaiting. + +They danced. Shep barked and gamboled. And a heavy voice broke in with-- + +"Ja! You struck it. Maybe not! Maybe you get struck mit a club! Hold +your hands up an' keep quiet until I see what kind of robbers you are +dot come into my gulch." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MILLIONS IN SIGHT + + +George dropped his jaw and almost dropped the pan. He and Terry stopped +short in their dance, Shep growled, they all stared; stared into the +muzzles of a double-barrel shot-gun projecting over the top of a big +boulder not fifteen steps at one side, and also into the eyes of a man +squatting concealed and squinting over the sight. He was bare-headed and +tow-headed. + +He slowly arose, with shot-gun leveled, and proved to be a pudgy fat man +in dirty checkered shirt and faded blue overalls with bib and straps; +regular barnyard overalls. + +"Gee, the crazy Dutchman!" gasped George. + +"Dot is one lie," corrected the man, steadily. "Joost like American +boys, who haf no respect. You come into my gulch to steal mein gold und +you call me 'crazy' und a 'Dootchmann,' und for dot I haf a mind to blow +off your heads off. Ja!" In his anger he spoke with a stronger German +accent than ever. "Vat you want, anyhow? Where you from?" + +"Oh--I know you!" exclaimed Terry, gladly. "Sure I do. And you know me. +You're the Lightning Express. Remember, you sold us your sacks. I +thought you'd gone home. What are _you_ doing in here?" + +Now the German gaped and stared. He slowly lowered his gun, and grinned +widely. + +"Ja, ja. Sure! You are one of dose Pike's Peak Limited boys. Ja, ja! You +wass driving a mule an' a boof'lo. Ja, ja! Well, well! An' where is dot +partner--dot nice young man? And who is dis odder boy? An' what you +doing in my gulch--say!" + +"We didn't know it was your gulch. This boy is George Stanton. He's my +partner, too. My other partner's down at Denver. We've been over in the +Gregory diggin's." + +"An' are you prospecting alone? Dere is more of you?" demanded the +German, suspiciously. + +"No, we're alone," assured Terry. + +"Well, well. Is dot so? Den you needn't be afraid. I would not harm goot +boys. Nein, nein." Now apparently in fine humor, he waddled forward to +shake hands. + +"We're not afraid," replied Terry. + +"I should say not," alleged George. "Your gun wasn't cocked, and we +could have ducked. You'd have had to fight the two of us at once, +besides the dog. That's a powerful dog. He's licked an Injun." + +"Is dot so?" repeated the German, eying Shep. "I stick my one foot in +his mouth an' kick him mit de odder. But no, no. Fighting is not goot. I +only fight to protect my gulch. Come on down; come on down to where I +lif, an' we haf supper." + +"This is your dust, isn't it?" queried George, proffering the pan. +"It's out of that dirt. Do you own all the gulch?" + +"Ja; my gulch. But nefer mind. You keep what you find. I haf plenty, +plenty. Come on down now an' I show you somet'ings. You odder boy wash +your pan. Den we all go." + +Terry delayed not in washing his panful while he had the permission. It +yielded fully as much yellow as had George's! Whew! They had struck rich +pay-dirt, at last, and--shucks! It belonged to somebody else. +However---- + +"Keep it, keep it," bade the German, with grand gesture. "It is not +worth my bodder. I haf plenty. I gif you so much, but I do not want you +to steal it." + +So they carefully scraped the treasure into George's new buckskin sack +already open. "We'll divvy," proposed George, "but let me carry it, will +you?"--and accompanied the German down the main gulch. + +"Ja," he explained, to Terry, "I did start myself back an' I sell you +an' dot odder partner my sacks an' my tools an' my sauerkraut. An' den, +when dose stages begin to pass me, an' peoples begin to come, I t'ink +maybe I was one fool again, so I turn 'round." + +"How did you get in here, though?" asked Terry. "Are you the first? Did +anybody else come with you?" + +"Ja, I am the first. No, nobody else come--joost me an' my family an' my +wagon an' my oxen. People said 'the mountains, the mountains, the gold +is not at Cherry Creek, it is in the mountains'; so we go into de +mountains, an' we climb up an' we climb down, an' when we get to where +dere is plenty gold, we stop. Dose fellers in dot odder gulch dey come +later, but I pay no attention to dem, except when one is in my gulch an' +den I drive him out." + +How the Lightning Express ever had managed to achieve all that "climbing +up" and "climbing down" until it finally arrived here in this remote +spot, Terry could not figure out--and the German seemed not to know, +himself. He certainly had earned his luck. He had spoken truly, too, for +now the gulch widened, and there, before, was his headquarters--a +homelike camp, with the two oxen grazing, and the wagon whose torn top +still displayed the legend "Litening Express," and a bough-roofed +dug-out, and a clothes-line with washing waving from it, and his family +hovering around the cook stove set under a tree. + +"I find my cook stove an' pick him up," he announced. "Ja, we haf lots +to eat, but no sauerkraut. Only deers an' boof'lo an' chickens an' +fishes." + +The menu sounded very alluring, the Mrs. German and all the six girls, +even the youngest, smiled welcome, and the two guests were disposed to +stay for the promised supper. But first their host, who seemed +extraordinarily good-natured and hospitable, mysteriously beckoned them +aside; led them to the wagon. + +"Now I show you somet'ings," he said. "Let's get in mit us." He +laboriously clambered in under the hood. They followed. + +Evidently the wagon was being used as a sleeping place, for the feather +tick and blankets were spread, and two red-flannel night-caps hung +against the frame-work. The German turned back the blankets and tick +part way and exposed several fat gunny sacks wedged in amidst other +stuff, all of which formed a floor. + +"Dere!" he grunted. "Isn't it? Ja! I told you once I fill my sacks. Now +I do so." + +"What's in 'em?" blurted George. + +"Gold. My gold." + +George's eyes bulged; Terry heard him pant, and he caught his breath +himself. + +"In every sack?" + +"Ja." One of the sacks had a rent in the upper side. The German inserted +his fingers and thumb and extracting some of the contents, displayed the +sample in his pudgy, calloused palm. The sample was black sand, all +yellowed and asparkle with glittering grains. + +"I wash him cleaner when I get time," announced the German. "First I +fill all my sacks up tight. Den maybe it winter an' I must go away. My +wife an' I an' two leetle girls sleep in here on top; dose odder girls +sleep under; nobody get my gold. I fill my sacks in my wagon, an' some +day I hitch up my oxen an' drive off alretty." He smoothed down the bed +again, over the treasure. "I am a smart man. I save some sacks, dot time +when I sell." + +"But you've got millions!" exclaimed Terry. "I should think you'd go out +instead of staying. You can't use that gold here." + +"It is notting," asserted the German. "My gulch is so much gold I cannot +dig him fast enough. If I go away somebody come in an' steal." He +blinked at Terry with his fat eyes. "Maybe I sell, to goot boys who +would stay an' watch while I go an' come back. Den we could all work +togedder." + +"Sell all the gulch?" + +"No, no. Maybe I sell one piece. I sell dot piece where you wash out +dose pans. I haf plenty more an' I do not like to walk so far. I sell +him cheap--it is notting to me, but I will not be stolen from. I sell +him to goot boys for $100." + +"One hundred dollars!" gasped Terry and George. They could scarcely +believe their ears. + +"Ja. So cheap. I will not gif him away. It is better for boys to pay a +leetle somet'ings, an' when dey haf bought, den dey haf rights. One +hoondred dollar--you bring in dot odder partner an' dig all you want to +an' you watch my gulch, an' when I come back we all dig togedder an' get +rich." + +"But how much land will be ours to dig in?" + +"I do not care," and the German airily waved his hand. "Dere will be +t'ree of you? I sell you the right to six hoondred feet. Dot is two +hoondred feet apiece. Ja. An' you watch an' don't you let anybody +steal." + +Terry looked at George. George was fairly purple with excitement. + +"Guess we'd better take it." + +"Guess we had," agreed George, gruffly. + +"That's a bargain, then." + +"We haven't got a hundred dollars here, though," stammered Terry, to the +German. "We'll go back to Gregory Gulch right away and get it, and get +our partner, and we'll hustle in here." + +"Dot's all right," agreed the German. "Dot's all right. You are goot +boys. I wait. I haf one sack not yet full alretty." + +"We won't stay for supper," proclaimed Terry. "We'll hustle. It's nearly +dark, anyway. Come on, George!" + +He piled out. George piled out. The German rather tumbled out. They +grabbed their tools. "Goot-bye, goot-bye," answered the German, and in a +moment they were hurrying down the gulch. + +"We'll sell the Gregory claims," panted Terry. "Sell to Ike. That's +where we'll get the hundred dollars." + +"Sure," panted George. "Talk about your pound a day! We'll make more +than that in here." + +"I should say! Reckon we washed out ten dollars in just those two pans." + +"And there'll be millions!" + +"That German has a million now!" + +"Wait till we tell Harry about the sacks." + +"Not a word of this to those Tarryall and Grab-all folks. Keep mum!" + +"You bet. Don't want any stampede. We'll pretend we're going out +disgusted." + +"Wonder if the German expects us to stay in all winter?" + +"We don't care. We can build a cabin and kill buffalo and deer." + +"And pile up the sand and wash cleaner after the snow comes." + +"Shall we start tonight? Ought to be making tracks." + +"N-no," said Terry. "It'll be dark before we can pack up. Shucks!" + +For the sun had set early behind the high peaks and already the dusk was +creeping into the hollows. + +"We'll start first thing in the morning, then," declared George. +"Hurrah! We've struck it, haven't we?" + +"That's so." The fact was so stupendous that Terry felt almost +frightened over the great good fortune. + +"Two days there and two days back again." + +"He said he'd wait. He's got a sack to fill." + +"Hope we don't talk in our sleep," babbled George. + +"If we don't, nobody'll guess we're rich. We mustn't go grinning 'round, +just the same," babbled Terry. + +"No. We'll act mad, like the rest." + +And so, this evening, they were careful to appear very solemn. But of +course the night was a difficult one for sleep, when a fellow's brain +thronged with golden secrets. + +And as early as they two were in their morning start for Gregory Gulch, +others were as early. This camp of Grab-all was largely a disgruntled +camp. There was no lumber on hand for sluices, the conveniently worked +ground had already been taken up by the Tarryall men, most of the +newcomers were short on provisions, nobody knew but that winter would +set in before many weeks; and so everybody from Gregory was planning to +leave as soon as he had located a claim. + +In fact, when Jenny finally was packed, and in the pink dawn unwillingly +stepped forth at the bidding of "Gwan! Hep, now!" from Terry and a slap +on the flank from George, half a dozen outfits were heading up the +trail. + +Urged to make the most of her long legs, Jenny pressed after. + +"You boys are in more of a hurry to get out than you were to get in, +seems to me," challenged one party whom they passed. "Must have heard of +a new strike, eh?" + +"Yes, sir-ee!" affirmed Terry, daringly. He had to say that much, or +he'd burst, but of course the man did not believe him. + +They made the trip in best time, and arrived at Gregory Gulch soon after +sun-up of the third morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TERRY MAKES A DEAL + + +Even in the short time that they had been absent the Gulch had +improved--for now on Gregory Point stood the preacher's church. However, +they might not stop to congratulate him and to explain why they had not +helped. All this fuss and furor in Gregory diggin's seemed small +business to anybody who knew just where not merely one pound a day but +several pounds a day were to be made easy. + +"If Harry hasn't come we'll sell to the Ike crowd, anyway," declared +Terry. + +"He told us to--he said we might, if we needed it. Then one of us can +rustle back to that other gulch and the other can stay for Harry," +planned George. + +"Somebody's there, all right. The chimney's smoking." + +"Must be Harry getting breakfast." + +"Jiminy Christmas, though!" cried Terry, as now they neared the cabin. +"What's going on? Looks as if he'd brought in my dad and your dad, and +they're working the claims!" + +Sure enough: the sluice had been moved and slanted in another direction, +water was pouring from the lower end again, and two figures were busy +beside it, with spade and pick. + +"Well, they won't want to work it long, when they know what we know," +vaunted George. + +The two figures were engaged across from the cabin, shoveling and +pecking, stooped over, and apparently did not notice the Jenny outfit. +So the home-comers aimed straight for the cabin, and were just about to +whoop to surprise Harry, when Harry stepped out. But no, not Harry! + +It was Pine Knot Ike! He emptied a dish-pan of water, and surveyed +Terry, George, Jenny and Shep. They stopped short and surveyed him. + +"Say! What are you doing in that cabin?" accused Terry, so much +astounded that his voice cracked on him. + +"Those aren't our dads, either, over there," whispered George. + +"I air livin' hyar, I reckon, but 'tain't your cabin," replied Ike, +calmly, and chewing his tobacco. + +"I'd like to know why it isn't our cabin, and our land, too!" retorted +Terry. + +"'Cause you moved off an' we moved on. When one party doesn't develop a +prospect, an' doesn't record it, an' quits, an' another party takes it +up an' perceeds to develop, I reckon fust party loses out," drawled Ike. + +"But it is recorded. We recorded it before we left. And the only reason +we didn't develop it was because you took our water," furiously answered +Terry. "And we didn't move off. We went away for a day or two, that is +all." + +"That's right," blustered George. "I heard him tell the recorder. And +you'd better move off, yourselves, or we'll have you put off!" + +Pine Knot Ike squirted a prodigious stream of filthy tobacco juice. + +"Waal, now, the books don't show," he asserted. "We're hyar, with our +improvements, workin' a claim that looked to be abandoned, an' I reckon +that'll count. We take our water off an' what's your prospect wuth to +you, anyhow?" + +"He's a big bully," whispered George. + +"We want to sell, though," reminded Terry. Ike seemed to be giving them +the opportunity. So--"It's worth more than nothing, just the same," he +replied. "That's our cabin and our sluice and our ground. You needn't +think you can come over and jump things this way. We've got plenty of +friends right in this gulch, and down at Denver, too." + +"Reckon that sort o' talk doesn't amount to much. Possession air nine +points o' the law, young feller," sneered Ike. "I air a man o' peace, +but when anybody says 'fight,' I can riz on my hind legs as quick as ary +b'ar." + +"You won't amount to much, either," accused Terry, with sudden thought, +"after I tell people how you got that Injun head and how you shot your +own barrel full of holes, and how you skedaddled out of that tent in +Auraria and how Harry made you dance at Manhattan last summer!" + +Pine Knot Ike stared and glared and ruminated. + +"Mebbe you know somethin' an' mebbe you don't," he admitted. "But I air +a man o' peace an' so air my pardners. To save hard feelin's, an' +argufyin', how'll you sell what you call your rights in this hyar +property, dust paid down on the spot?" + +"We'll sell for a hundred dollars," offered Terry. + +"Whar's your pardner--that lame feller?" + +"He'll be here; but he told me I could sell. Didn't he, George?" + +"Yes, he did. I heard him. He said to sell if we wanted to," confirmed +George. + +"Whoop-ee!" summoned Ike, to the two men at the sluice. They dropped +their tools and crossed over. One was the giant, before encountered. +With an occasional side glance at George and Terry, they and Ike +consulted together in low tones for a minute or so. Ike disappeared into +the cabin, came out and, advancing a few steps, tossed a limp buckskin +bag at Terry. + +"Thar's your hundred dollars in dust," he said, "'cordin' to agreement. +You stick your name an' your pardner's on a bill o' sale, an' that other +boy'll be witness, an' no hard feelin's." + +"How do we know this is $100?" challenged Terry, suspicious, and +resolved upon being businesslike. One hundred dollars they had to have. +But what luck! + +"Take it to some scales and weigh it, and have it certified to, fust, +then," rapped the giant. "You won't find us gone when you come back. +We're hyar to stay." + +That sounded like a fair proposition. + +"We can get it weighed at a store," prompted Terry to George. "Come +on." + +"Quick work, boy!" praised George, as with Shep and with Jenny (who had +been waiting to be unpacked) faithfully shambling after, they hastened +for the nearest store. "One of us can skip out with it for Dutchman's +Gulch and close our deal there, and the other can stay for Harry. Wish +he'd turn up." + +"There he is now! See? Good!" + +"Where? He sure is! Riding horseback! And my dad and your dad and Virgie +and Duke! He's got Duke!" + +"Yes, and Sol! That other man's Sol Judy!" cried Terry, rejoicing. +"They've all come in! Bully for them! We can all go to Dutchman's +Gulch--work our claim and find others--just pile up the dust! Hi-oh! +Hurrah!" + +They shouted and waved, and cut down farther into the gulch to head off +Harry's party, now filing up as if for the cabin. + +"Hello!" + +"Hello yourselves!" + +"Hello, Dad! Hello, Sol!" + +There was a great shaking of hands all around. + +"Where you going? How's Duke? Hello, Duke!" + +"Going to our mines, of course," answered Mr. Stanton. + +"Where are _you_ going?" demanded Harry. "What's Jenny packed for?" + +"We're going out," informed George. "We've made the biggest strike you +ever heard of--pounds a day--in another place, and we've bought tons of +pay dirt for only $100, and we've sold the Golden Prize to the Ike +crowd, and we're going to that other place just as quick as we can get +there, and so are you, all of you, too!" + +"Sold that other property? What for?" chorused the men. + +"To pay for the new one. We hustled back on purpose. Just got in, and +now all we have to do is weigh Ike's dust to make sure he isn't cheating +us, and give him a bill of sale, and then we'll show you the other +place. George and Harry and I have six hundred feet already, but +there'll be more, and anyway we can all work," bubbled Terry. + +"How do you know what's in those other diggin's?" queried Sol. + +"Because we saw it! We washed out over ten dollars in two pans, and the +German we bought from has _sacks full_!" proclaimed George. "Regular +sacks full!" + +"He's the Lightning Express German," added Terry. "Harry knows him. He's +there all by himself. He wants us to watch his diggin's while he takes +his gold out and comes back. That's why he sold so cheap." + +"Great Cæsar!" murmured Harry. "Sacks full? Thought we'd bought all his +sacks and he'd turned home?" + +"So he had, but he changed his mind. And he's struck it rich, rich!" + +"Where are those new diggin's? Have you got any of the dust with you +that you say you washed out?" invited Sol. + +"They're over near Tarryall or Grab-all, in the South Park; only about +fifty miles," answered Terry. + +"And here's our dust, too," proffered George. + +Sol opened the little sack and fingered the contents. + +"Gold!" he snorted. "Yes, fool's gold. That's nothing but iron +pyrites--'tisn't worth a cent a ton! Don't you know the difference +between gold and iron pyrites yet? Thought you were miners." + +"But it's from the German's diggin's," stammered Terry--for George +appeared staggered out of his wits. "He said it was gold and he's got +sacks full, right in his wagon." + +Sol laughed. + +"Sacks full, eh? Did anybody ever see gold dust by the gunny sack full? +He's the same crazy German who was washing fool's gold from the Platte, +I reckon--thought he had the real stuff and wouldn't believe otherwise. +I met him, myself, when he was traveling on in for fear somebody'd rob +him." + +"Oh!" groaned George. "We thought----" + +"Have you closed the sale of that property yonder? Haven't given a +transfer yet, have you?" sharply demanded Terry's father. + +"N-no; we've got the money, though. We were going to weigh it. They're +waiting--they're there, working." + +"Who?" + +"Ike and two other men. We found 'em there when we came back." + +"By ginger! Jumped it, did they?" ejaculated Sol. "Looks like we were +just in time." He spurred on, Harry after. + +"You boys don't go a step farther," ordered Mr. Richards. "You come +along with us. Lucky you didn't give any bill of sale, or we might have +serious trouble." + +"But Harry told us we might sell," faltered Terry. + +"Harry didn't know, either. Why, there are thousands of dollars in those +claims, according to Sol. The Ike crowd know, all right. Where you're to +blame is for having gone off on a wild-goose chase and left the claims +and then been bamboozled by such nonsense as sacks full of iron pyrites. +Gold dust is soft and dull; pyrites are hard and bright." + +"What makes you think the Golden Prize is so rich, though?" stammered +Terry, as he and George tried to keep up with the horses. + +"The Golden Prize is liable to be a fortune, but we're banking on that +other claim, the one you gave to Virgie. She happened to show Sol the +piece of rock she brought down, and he says it's the best kind of gold +quartz--fairly oozing." + +"And not float, either. It's from a surface lode close at hand," put in +Mr. Stanton. + +"Aw, shucks!" sheepishly said Terry to George. "Guess we weren't so +smart as we thought we were. Now Pine Knot Ike's there and maybe we +can't get him off." + +"Well, he may assert you abandoned the claims, but Sol knows all the +mining laws and we've got right on our side," consoled his father. + +When they arrived at the spot, Sol and the Pine Knot Ike party were +hotly arguing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE "VIRGINIA CONSOLIDATED" + + +"According to miners' law of this gulch or any other district," was +declaring Sol, "when a party can't work a lode claim by reason of lack +of water or proper machinery, they've a right to let it lie a certain +length of time; can go out, and come back to it again, in the +meanwhile." + +"Yes, mebbe so," returned the giant. "But they got to give their +intentions to the recorder, an' there ain't any such intentions on +file." + +"There are, too--or there ought to be," contradicted Terry, freshly +excited. "I told the recorder myself--didn't I, George? I told him what +was the matter, and that we were going away, and I told him to record +the claims, and he said he would till we got back." + +"Oh, you did, did you!" rasped the giant. "That'll do for talk, but +whar's the proof?" + +"When did you see the recorder, Terry?" asked his father. + +"The very night before we left. He said the books were locked up, but +he'd remember." + +"Sure he was the recorder?" + +"Of course he was. He'd just been elected. He's the 'Root Hog or Die' +professor. I know him and so does Harry." + +"That's the man!" exclaimed Harry. "I'll go and get him." And away sped +Harry. + +"Furthermore and besides and notwithstanding, we've regularly bought +this hyar property, and thar's the witness to the transaction," +continued the giant, pointing to George. "We paid the price and it's +been accepted, and when money has changed hands, that settles things." + +Attracted by the dispute, other gulch people had begun to gather. + +"That's right," pronounced two or three. + +Terry felt his heart sink. Had he made a botch of the matter, with his +hurry? George also was frightened, for he had paled. + +"What property do you think you've bought, then?" demanded Sol. + +"Everything: cabin and sluice and all. And you can't touch 'em." + +"Where's the bill of sale?" + +"We don't need any bill o' sale to put us in possession. We've paid the +money, an' hyar we air," replied Pine Knot Ike. "An' we're bad when +we're riled. Nothin' riles us like bein' robbed, an' thar's nobody as +bad as a man o' peace when once he's riled, stranger." + +"But you couldn't buy that True Blue prospect," rapped Sol. + +"Why not? We took what was offered. The two claims go together. Nothin' +was said different." + +"Why not? Because the Golden Prize and the True Blue aren't owned by the +same party; that's why. The True Blue's the property of this girl +here--has been transferred to her in due legal form, and her father +holds it in trust for her, and these boys couldn't have sold it if +they'd wanted to!" + +"It _is_ mine," piped Virgie. "It's been given to me and it's written +down and those mean men sha'n't touch it. They're getting it all wet!" + +"Whar are your papers an' whar are your witnesses?" challenged the +giant. + +"There's one witness," and Mr. Stanton pointed at George. "You heard the +words when the claim was given to Virgie, didn't you?" he asked. + +"Yes, I did," affirmed George. + +"And that other boy was one of the owners who agreed, and here comes the +second former owner who signed the transfer for both." + +"Down at Denver, before a notary public," panted Harry, arriving with +the "Root Hog or Die" professor. "And it's been recorded." + +"That is true," nodded the "Root Hog or Die" professor. "And I do +acknowledge that I was asked to record this other claim also, and that I +was told of the intentions and reasons when it was temporarily left +unoccupied. I am responsible for there being no official memorandum, but +I entirely forgot. However, the verbal agreement is sufficient. I +remember perfectly." + +"That remains to be seen," growled the giant--who seemed to be the +spokesman for the Pine Knot Ike party. "As for that other prospect, we +don't fight gals. It's a dry claim, anyhow; hasn't any water of its own +an' never will have. As for this claim we're standin' on, we'll keep it. +It's been duly bought, paid for, an' it's workable, an' that's enough. +Ain't I right, boys?" he appealed to the gathering crowd. "When money's +passed an' accepted, that binds the sale." + +[Illustration: "YOU DARE TO LAY HAND ON THIS OR INTERFERE IN ANY WAY AND +I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A CALIFORNY FORTY-NINER KNOWS ABOUT PROTECTING +PROPERTY"] + +The crowd shifted and murmured. Plainly, they were not very approving of +the Pine Knot Ike party methods, but they had a strong sense of legal +rights. + +"'Pears like it was a deal in good faith," remarked somebody. + +"You claim that cabin and everything in it, do you?" inquired Sol. + +"Yes, sir! Everything on this hyar ground--fixtures an' improvements, +an' don't you touch a finger to 'em," boomed the giant. "You an' your +gal have got that dry prospect. Go over an' mine. Mebbe you can mine an' +mebbe you can't, for you'll be drier'n ever as soon as we move that +sluice to whar it belongs." + +"Haw, haw!" gibed Ike and the other man. "You can wait for a dew." + +"No! You can wait for that sluice!" retorted Sol. He spurred his horse +and in a jiffy was beside it. "You dare to lay hand on this or interfere +in any way and I'll show you what a Californy Forty-niner knows about +protecting property." + +"Ain't that our sluice?" + +"Not an inch, now. You claim the cabin and all improvements on that +other prospect--we claim the sluice and all improvements on this +prospect. I reckon what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. +This sluice is all on the True Blue ground." + +"Hooray!" cheered the willing crowd. + +"You'll have a sluice without water. Mebbe that's how they mine in +Californy!" jeered Pine Knot Ike. "That thar water's ourn as soon as it +comes down the leetle draw ag'in. So we'll jest natterly turn it off on +you." + +"Not by a jugful!" objected Sol. "That girl's filed on her water rights +in this little draw, when her claim was recorded." He ran rapid eye +along the Golden Prize surface. "And I reckon there doesn't any water go +with that other prospect, anyhow! I've an idee the hundred feet ends +short of the water." + +"So have I," asserted Harry. "Give me room, gentlemen. Just to prove +that my notion's correct I'll measure. That claim was only stepped off, +in the beginning." + +Harry fished a surveyor's tape from his pocket (evidently he had come +prepared) and from the first claim stake, near the cabin, measured the +length of the Golden Prize ground. The one hundred feet ended three +yards away from the little stream course! + +"The two properties join, so that puts the natural water on the True +Blue ground," triumphantly proclaimed Sol. + +"Mebbe, when thar is water; but thar won't be any after we've started to +use again on our other workin's up at the head," retorted the giant. + +"You tried that once, but you can't do it a second time. We've filed our +rights on the water coming down this draw, and here it is, and by +miners' law we're entitled to our share." + +"So are we, then, by thunder!" shouted the giant. "As long as there's +water flowin' past, we're goin' to have some of it. That's miners' law, +too. We can ditch some of it over----" + +"No, you can't!" A new voice struck in, and a new figure appeared. +Archie Smith! He held his side and panted for breath. + +"What _you_ got to do with it? Why can't we?" + +"Because you couldn't have bought this claim even if you paid over the +money. Do you want to sell? Do you want them for neighbors?" demanded +Archie of Harry. + +"We should say not!" + +"Well, then," resumed Archie, panting, and addressing the Pine Knot Ike +party, "you didn't buy the Golden Prize, because you couldn't. The boys +didn't own it. They wouldn't take it from me; they said they'd work it +while I was gone, and now I'm back and I won't sell--to _you_. And I +order you to get off." + +Terry looked blankly at Harry, Harry smiled at Terry. + +"That's so." And it was so, now that they thought. + +"B' gorry, the same thing happened to me," announced the voice of Pat +Casey, "an' Oi lost me diggin's. Sure, it doesn't seem fair play--though +Oi'm a friend to the boys." + +"It is fair play, in this case," asserted Sol. "You see, gentlemen," he +said to the crowd, "these two boys, Harry and Terry, came in here and +proceeded to work this ground. They had the water and they hustled to +put in a sluice, and were beginning to wash out pay dirt, when those +mean whelps, suspecting these prospects were richer than they looked to +be, turned off the water to which this ground naturally was +entitled--just hogged it, made the waste run the other way, to render +these claims useless so they might either be jumped or bought for a +song. The same whelps sneaked around, prospecting, until they located +some of the richest gold quartz you ever laid your eyes on; then they +told the boys the ground was no good, anyway--mostly pockets and barren +bed-rock, had no water, and all that sort of thing--and tried to get 'em +to move, for $100. But the boys stuck, so as to pay off a debt. One of +them sold pies and the other worked for a dollar and a half a day. Then, +while they were temporarily absent, these whelps jumped both claims--and +look at the rock they've already taken out!" + +"B' gorry, they ought to be hanged!" declared Pat Casey. "The lads are +honest lads, Oi'll say that for 'em. An' if somebody'll fetch a +rope----" + +"No, no, gentlemen," appealed Sol, as the crowd began to surge angrily. +"When the dirty deal was started there was no law in the camp; but you +have laws now, and if those fellows want to fight we'll fight them with +law. But they're licked, and they know it." + +"Waal," conceded Pine Knot Ike, "if we're licked I reckon we're licked, +an' no hard feelin's. We air men o' peace. We bought this hyar property +in good faith, but bein' as the other party ain't satisfied we'll take +our hundred dollars in dust an' move off." + +"Where's their dust, Terry?" asked Harry. + +"Hold on a bit," objected Mr. Richards. "Hold on! How much gold have +they taken out already, since they jumped these prospects? They've been +running that sluice for at least a couple of days." + +"We'll leave you that thar pile o' sluice tailin's; it's too coarse for +washin'," replied the giant. "And thar's a clean-up waitin', in the +sluice. But you got to give us back the hundred dollars' purchase price, +an' do it mighty quick." + +"Don't rile us," warned Ike. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, Ike," spoke Harry. "We'll be fair. I'll +wrestle you for that $100. If you throw me, you can have it, and if I +throw you we can keep it. You've already got more than that out of this +ground--but we want to be fair." + +"Don't you do it, Harry!" protested Father Richards. "There's no need of +such foolishness." + +"That's what I say," added Mr. Stanton. "We won't allow it." + +"I know what I'm about," replied Harry, with a wink at Terry and George +and the breathless Archie. + +"Young feller," solemnly said Ike, "I ekcept, ketch as ketch can, but +keep back your dog. I air a tough proposition in a wrestle, but I don't +aim to come to grips with man and dog at the same time." + +Harry alertly threw aside his hat and stepped forward; Ike did the like. + +"David an' Goliath!" cheered the crowd; and indeed the match did +resemble that, with Harry so slight and slim and the shaggy Ike +appearing to be a foot taller and a foot broader. + +"Has he any show? Do you think he _can_ throw him?" whispered +Archie--referring, of course, to Harry. + +"Sure he can," asserted Terry. "Can't he, George?" + +"He usually does what he sets out to do," agreed George. + +Now, arms half out-stretched and shoulders forward, Harry and Ike were +circling each other, in watchful, eager fashion. Ike rushed--"Look out, +Harry!"--but Harry dodged. Ike rushed again; this time, quick as light, +Harry darted to meet him, and they were locked--locked with arms and +legs, while they tugged and swayed and Ike grunted, and their boots +crunched upon the rocks and gravel. + +"Harry's got the under hold!" gasped Terry. + +"Yes, but Ike'll break him in two!" gasped George. + +Virgie was crying and calling, Shep was barking, the spectators were +shouting all sorts of advice. And swallowed in Ike's great arms, Harry +seemed quite helpless, simply clinging to Ike's waist, with his face +pressed against Ike's shirt, and letting Ike dash him hither-thither, +trying to upset him. + +But somehow, Harry always landed on his feet. Once he was lifted clear +in air--only to come down again with a thump. Twice he was lifted--this +time actually by the seat of the trousers! Ike tried to pull him in and +bend him backwards, but Harry stiffened and bowed his back. Then +suddenly he did come in--but lightning fast, he side-stepped a little, +thrust himself part way past Ike, stopped farther, and, shifting his +grip to Ike's thighs, tilted and heaved. + +Up rose Ike, pawing and kicking--up, a foot off the ground, and over +Harry he shot, almost horizontal, like a diver from a spring-board, to +plough the ground beyond with his shoulder. + +"Ah!" + +"Ah!" + +"That war a trick!" scolded Ike, sitting up and rubbing his tousled +head. + +"All right," answered Harry, panting and laughing. "We'll make it two +falls out of three, then. I've a couple more tricks." + +"No, young feller," grumbled Ike, still rubbing his head. "I can wrestle +a b'ar, but I ain't built for wrestlin' ary combination of eel an' +alligator tail. If you're a schoolmaster, what'll you take to teach me +that holt?" + +"That's not for sale, either," laughed Harry. "But here's your sack of +dust. We don't want it, after all." Thus saying, he tossed over the +buckskin sack, and limped to get his hat from Terry. + +So the result was that the Pine Knot Ike party left good-naturedly, and +the crowd dispersed good-naturedly, and the Golden Prize and the True +Blue claims remained in undisputed possession of the victors; all of +which was better than threats of further row. + +Harry shook hands with Archie. It was his first opportunity. + +"Have you come back to stay? Hope so. It's your mine, you know--and it's +going to be a rich one; richer than you ever imagined, if that vein from +the True Blue extends through. We'll help you work it while we're +working the True Blue, but the True Blue's enough for us." + +"I don't care. It's yours, just the same. I gave it to you once and I +give it to you again," insisted Archie. "This time I'll make out a +regular transfer. I'm here just for a little visit, and then I'm going +back East to stay a while." + +"Where'd you find Sol, Harry?" asked George. + +"Down in Denver and Auraria. While I was dickering for Duke he turned +up. He'd been at Pike's Peak, and everywhere else. He turned up just in +time." + +"Isn't Mother coming? Don't I see Mother?" queried Terry of his father. + +"We may send for her and George's mother after we get things +straightened out here. But you'll see her in Denver, anyway. You and +Harry'll have to go down there for some clothes pretty soon. She wants +to see _you_ mighty bad." + +"Is this rock gold rock? Doesn't look so. How do you know?" + +"Sol says it is. Some of it, I mean. He knew as soon as he saw that +piece Virgie brought down. And we're lucky that he's with us. He's an +expert." + +Sol had been tramping about with a spade, scraping here and there on +both claims, and examining. He joined the group. + +"There's considerable rotten quartz that can be sluiced, and probably +some loose dirt to be washed; but there's a thundering fine vein or lode +running right across. The best surface showing is on the True Blue, +where that piece of rock came from, but I reckon that when we get down +into what those fellows pretended was the bed-rock on the Golden Prize +we'll find it just as rich. So part of us can be sluicing, while the +rest of us rig some sort of a contrivance to crush the quartz and wash +it with mercury, till a regular quartz mill is 'stablished near us." And +Sol continued, using words and terms that only the men understood. + +"Shucks!" acknowledged Terry. "We were looking for dirt; we didn't count +the rock." So he turned to George, who was lifting Virgie from her pony. + +"You did it, Virgie, with your piece of quartz. Now you're going to be +rich." + +"I don't want to be rich all alone," objected Virgie. "I don't want to +be any richer than you or George or Harry or Sol or--or anybody of us." + +She looked as if she were about to weep over it! + +"Of course not, Virgie," called Harry. "You won't have to be rich all +alone. That's a miserable state. But you can share with your father and +Sol, and Terry and Father Richards and I have a mine, too, you know; and +just to make sure that nobody'll be any richer than anybody else in the +crowd, we'll all join together and we'll name the company the Virginia +Consolidated!" + + +THE END + + * * * * * + + THE BAR B SERIES + + By EDWIN L. SABIN + + +BAR B BOYS; + +OR, THE YOUNG COW-PUNCHERS + +A picturesque story of Western ranch life. Illustrated by Charles +Copeland. + + +RANGE AND TRAIL + +The Bar B Boys in winter and on the long trail from New Mexico to the +home ranch. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. + + +CIRCLE K; + +OR, FIGHTING FOR THE FLOCK + +The ranchmen are here engaged in the sheep industry, and the story has +the same real Western flavor. Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. + + +OLD FOUR-TOES; + +OR, HUNTERS OF THE PEAKS + +The two boys, Phil and Chet, Grizzly Dan and others, figure in this +fascinating account of hunting, trapping, and Indian encounters. +Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. + + +TREASURE MOUNTAIN; + +OR, THE YOUNG PROSPECTORS + +Tells of the locating of an old gold mine near the top of a mountain +peak. One of the liveliest books in the series. Illustrated by Clarence +Rowe. + + +SCARFACE RANCH; + +OR, THE YOUNG HOMESTEADERS + +Two young heroes here take up some government land and engage most +successfully in cattle raising on their own account. Illustrated by +Clarence Rowe. + +Each Volume 8vo, cloth, 75 cents. + + * * * * * + + Also by MR. SABIN + + +PLUCK ON THE LONG TRAIL; + +OR, BOY SCOUTS IN THE ROCKIES + +A stirring narrative of packing, trailing, and camping in the West. +Illustrated by Clarence Rowe. 12mo, cloth. + + +BEAUFORT CHUMS + +Tells of the adventures of two boys, a boat and a dog on the +Mississippi. Every boy will read it eagerly. Illustrated by Charles +Copeland. 12mo, $0.75 + + * * * * * + + THE "SILVER FOX FARM" SERIES + + BY JAMES OTIS + + +THE WIRELESS STATION AT SILVER FOX FARM. + +Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. + + A bright, vividly written narrative of the adventures of Paul + Simpson and Ned Bartlett in helping the former's father start a + farm for raising silver foxes on Barren Island, twelve miles off + the Maine coast. + + +THE AEROPLANE AT SILVER FOX FARM. + +Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. + + An absorbing story of the building and working of an aeroplane on + Barren Island. + + +BUILDING AN AIRSHIP AT SILVER FOX FARM. + +Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. + + Encouraged by their success in aeroplane-building, the boys of + Silver Fox Farm go in for a full-fledged airship. + + +AIRSHIP CRUISING FROM SILVER FOX FARM. + +Illustrated by Charles Copeland. 8vo. + + A further account of the marvels performed by the Silver Fox + Farmers, including the story of the thrilling rescue of a + shipwrecked yachting party by means of their great air-cruiser. + + * * * * * + + BOY SCOUT BOOKS + + + BOY SCOUTS IN THE MAINE WOODS. + BOY SCOUTS IN A LUMBER CAMP. + +12mo, illustrated. Each, 75 cents. + + * * * * * + + + OTHER BOOKS BY JAMES OTIS + + +FOUND BY THE CIRCUS. + +12mo, illustrated. 75 cents net. + + + Joel Harford + Joey at the Fair + Two Stowaways + +12mo, illustrated. Each, 75 cents postpaid. + + + A Short Cruise + Aunt Hannah and Seth + Dick in the Desert + Christmas at Deacon Hackett's + How the Twins Captured a Hessian + How Tommy Saved the Barn + Our Uncle the Major + The Wreck of the Circus + + +8vo, illustrated. Each, 50 cents postpaid. + + +Dorothy's Spy + +12mo, illustrated. 50 cents. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 37943 *** |