Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 257 — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

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With one exception, they were old friends |. Dinner was’ quickly disposed of, and then, lying under the tilted wagons, or at the entrance and close neighbors, and with the exception of the Burnham family and Clay Benedict, were | to. the tents, the gold-diggers indulged them- all related to each other, though one of their | selves in a’scant'pipe of tobacco before return- mumber, &@ young man called Vernon Curtis, had | ing to work. Where payment for labor was so spent the past few years of his life apart from | rich, the most indolent among’ the little band the-rest, in the land to whieh they were hasten: | cared to waste no more. , ; ) Ing when they came upon the valley of gold, . | Without break or cessation thé click of: pick he season. had been an extraordinarily dry | and grating of shovel, the rattling of long-tom and cradle, hastily manufactured .on the spot; one, and to find water, the little train left the most direct route, takin Ralph Burnham had ° followed years before, when he joined in the first mad rush to Cali- fornia, in the spriog immediately following the | rays of the sun, and the faint breeze wholly first discovery of gold. ali | died away. The flannel shirts grew darker More than the mere desire-to find an abund-: | with sweat, great drops of’ which trickled in ance of water led him to this, course.. He re- | swift succession. over bronzed’ and bearded membered the present spot, though.in his igno- | faces—but_ still ‘the gold-slaves’ toiled ‘on, as rance, af the time, he had not dreamed of the | though their very existence dependéd upon the wondrous treasure which he, with his mates, | amount of work they could accomplish before was then passing by, -Ten years’ experience in | the light of the sun should le: ve them. wresting gold from its resting-place bad made The’ afternoon was a little more than half him wiser, and though he kept his.secret hopes | spent. when a sharp, shrill whistle echoed close locked in his bosom, until he had: made | through the air, coming from 'the direction of sure he was not deceived, he. lost little time,in | the dam, and Ralph Burnham dropped his pick confirming them. _ He found that, the edges‘of | with a hot, explosive ‘curse a8 he turned in’ that the little river were plentifully ‘stecked with | direetion. dels, ar , precious , metal, and soon fixed his thoughts **Trouble, boys!” he grated, his blue eyes fill- upon the oval valley, then full to the rock walls | ing with a dangerous light. ‘“ Ready fer work with water, ee Sige at the word— Ha!” $i, His mates were incredulous when he madé known his idea, but their laughter was soon changed to eager wondey, after a day spent in diving to the bottom of: the lake, scraping up the richly freighted gravel into bags, to drag ashore and wash out. Rude though the process the result was marvélous,and when Ralph Burn- bam fully divulged his scheme, he wasseconded V all : _all the sounds of wet placer diggings, echoed back from the rock walls. to his ears was of the’ dam, and for an instant bis blood fairly’ ran coJd in bis ‘veins as he be+ lieved that his haunting fear'was at last to come true. But the moment he ‘caught’ sight of ‘the crouching figure of little Davy af one end of the dam, he uttered that. gasping breath’ of re lief. Whatever the peril, it' was not taking that horrible shape. Fadia Little Davy swung his hat, td make sure-that he. was seen, then motioned toward the crest of the eastern rock wall. >. =k . Instinctively every eye was turned in. that direction, and an The dam. was built, part. way,.then the. side chute cut through, to let off the-water while the barrier was completed. This was made as substantial as time and matérials would per- mit, and thén the water which filled the lake bed, was drained off and bailed out until only sufficient was left ‘to work the gold-bearing soil, with what escaped from the dam. Sanguine though the veteran digger had been his wildest hopes were discounted by the actual result. The lake bed was one pocket of gold, from the finest flakes to nuggets as large as eggs, of gold extremely pure. With such an incentive, the men worked: almost desperately, though Burnham held them under strict rule. Eager to get. rich, for the sake of bis two children, whom he fairly idolized, it may. still be questioned whether Ralph Burnham was not Paying too great a price for the wealth he was accumulating so rapidly. Fearing lest their wondrous strike should be of a man standing upon the rocks, coolly star- ing down upon them. ware. ‘’Tain’t Dan Keeble?” ventured oné, namitg the day. ér “No sech good Iuck!” growled Burnham, his grip tightening upon the butt of the heavy re- volver hanging against his hip. ‘ It’s some in- one the dirty whelp has got a thousan’ cronies out yender, waitin’ fer him to come. back an’ ’port his diskivery !” | Fane ‘ It rests with you to say whetber or tio he ever tells mortal what he has found out,” said a low voice in the ear of the veteran, and turning trate by other wanderers, from the direct | abruptly, Burnham met the cold, yet glittering trail, as soon as the little valley was sufficiently gaze of Clay Benedict, ‘Say ‘the word, and drained, the wagons were hauled inside aud the 1 drop him inv bis tracks, too cold to skin!” tents pitched close under one of tbe rock walls, | Not a trace of emotion in the tones, yet Burn- though all knew that in case the dam should | bam felt that the young fellow meant ail he give way beforé the pressure of the water, al- | said, and that-he would be equal ‘to the bloody most certain destruction to all must follow. - deed once permission was given, and there was {t was this haunting fear that rendered the | something close akin to horror in the impulse life of the gold-digger almost unbearable, and | which led him to clutch the arm of the speaker. fed to his concealing the full amount of gold ‘“Not that—it’d be murder, man!” he exclaim-. collected. He believed the men would be bet- | ed hoarsely. a | ter satisfied to toil on without ceasing save for |. . ‘ Murder?” echoed Benedict with curling lip eating and sleep, when worn with work, if | and uplifted brows. ‘“‘Is’nt the fellow spying they deemed themselves less rich than they act- |‘upon us? You said yourself that he’s only ually were, . waiting to make sure what we’re af before has- Two weeks more would suffice to exhaust the | tening to inform his mates.” | diggings, if they made as rapid progress as here- ‘*Which I think so yet; but that don’t give tofore, and with dogged nerve he fought against | us no right to shoot down a feller-critter without ’ the haunting d resolved to stick 1t out until | warnin’.” , | the task was completed, . ‘All right, you’re boss; have it your own In silence he led the way down the steep to | way,” "a the lake-bed, bearing with him the string of fish little Davy bad caught while keeping guard over the dam. - ’ Equally silent Clay Benedict followed bis lead the light in his black eyes deepening and strengthening as he watched the young woman who had signaled them to dinner. Benedict pea agit his grasp upon the weapon, and folding his arms, quietly awaited the result. | : Swiftly the few words werfe interchanged, -andina tone so low that none of the other miners appeared to catch their meaning, for with one accord they began kandling their He might have had a far less pleasant object | weapons menacingly, already looking upon the to view, for, though not what the classical de- | stranger as one = A thought to rob them of votee would have termed beautiful, Bertha | their wealth. | Burnham was indeed fair to gaze upon. “Hold, ye foolish critters!” sternly cried Ralph Burnham, his blue eyes flashing. ‘‘ Would ye let him git off to spread the news? He’s too fur away fer them uns to—” ‘Not for mine,” ike y interrupted Benedict. ‘I can put a hole through any part of his car- cass you may mention,” . “I tell ye I won’t have no murder ef we don’t strike another blow with pick in this claim!” True her dress was of calico, and plainly made. Her foot-gear was stout. rather than delicate—made for use, not ornament—while the only jewels she wore were those of health and happiness. But her hair was soft aud luxu- riant, her complexion clear and rosy, her form lithe, rounded and symmetrical, her lips red and moist, her teeth white and even, ber voice this cut-off, which | the splashing of mud and gravel in the’ water— | Hotter grew thé His first thought as that’ warning sound came y mutterings broke from the lips of the gold diggers as they noted the figure | the man whose turn it was to act as hunter for fernal spy—good-by to our secret, lads! Ten to. Man from ’Way Bac frills, or you'll me oa 3 ‘*Hellow you!” cried the stranger in a sten- torian voice, swinging his broad-brimmed felt hat to attract the notice of the valley occupants. ‘*Hevin’ heaps o’ fun down thar, hain’t ye, all to your lonesome selves? Room fer one more, L reckon?” ‘* Fer the right sort, mebbe thar is—but that ain’t sayin’ you'd fit into the socket,” calied out Burnham, adding in-a guarded tone to his mates: ‘‘ [f he comes down, leave him fer me deal with.” ‘‘Squar’ hole or round, it don’t make a diff 0? bitter to yer uncle Fuller. -I kin fit: into ary one, an’ never leak a drap, ef I takes the notion,” laughed the stranger, replacing his bat, and (dé- scending the rocks with the activity ahd sure- footedness of a mountain goat. “1A ‘“‘He’s in the trap; if be gets out with: bis news, don’t blame’ me,” muttered Benedict, turning and walking» ever to where Bertha stood, drawn from the tent by the ottery,; — - _ “Snug little bole you fellers got in yer’,” ob- served the unwelcome visitor, as: he reached the basin, and nodded ‘bluntly to Burnham; whom he readily divined to be the chief of the party. ‘Never dreamed o’) makin’ sech’ a idiskivery, when I sot in to climb up themodorni¢cks; Saw the drink hed cuta tiew” way out, an’ thought Td take a look how it:was done,” + - 159" ‘Well, 1 reckon you’ve found out,” grunted Burnham, (38 Pca ° fe ‘* Kinder,” with a grin. , ‘‘ Kin, sorter. gress what it was did fer, too. Struck it powerful rich, ain’t ye?’ eartef 520” “Tt might be worse.” : f* ‘* An’ couldn’t-be much ‘better, ‘less ye struak a reg’lar bank or ‘xpress-office, or I never flipped a washer!” ejaculated the fellow, stoop- ing over a heap of dirt, and running it through his fingers. { ad} ‘*Then you’re’an old harid at the business?” “Stranger, cain’t ye see it stick out o? the twbd eyes o’ me?” and flopping: back the brim! of his hat, he squared himself before Burnhanj, his feet widely separated, his: thumbs under hi& armpits. ‘Take a good,’ squar’ look at ‘my phizzymahog, sc you'll know me- the next) time we run chuc up ag’inst each’ other/” . soit “T’vé ‘sten bandsomer lookin’ mugs At a monkey show.” ri lot **But never into a lookin’-glass, onless some- body pasted a pictur’ onto the back; o’:it afore- hand,” grinned the other. © » “a ilod *“* Feel sorter funny this evenin’, don’t ye?” |; “Fun? Now ye hit me right) whar /I live when l’m to bum, stranger!) I’m ¢huck fuller o’ fun theo a beathen Chinee is:o’ nat’ral cussed ness! Stick a pin-hole into me anywhars, ari’ you'd see the fun run outin a stream bigger’n a June fresh! Milder’n whisky, an’ sweeter’n buttermilk, ef you fake me when the sign @ the moon’s right; but tap»me when it’s:ii the wro quarter; un’ it’s t’rantler juice an’ essénce snattlerake, stirred up in a tubful 0’ ackyfortis. an’ seasoned with assnick an’ stricknyne! | It’s me that’s belchin’ now, ‘an’. when, you ketch ea truly lyin’, you want:to hyste your am- rill, fer the stars is goin’ to fall} sure/?” o- + Thrusting his shaggy head fortward,: the stranger puffed ouf his cheeks: until his nose paces dwindled and almost disappeared om view. A moment thus, then hé suffered the’accumulated wind to escape in a shrill, long- drawn whistle that caused Iph Burnham start back and cast a swift glance along the rock walls, half-believing it a;signal which im- ported mischief to him and hi | A short, mocking laugh broke from the lips af the queer character as he nétited this start; and with a patronizing wave of one Hand; he addea@: ‘“* Don’t you git skeered an’ run away, stran- ger; fer the sign’s jest right, now, an’ I wotildn’t urt a ha’r o’ your ole pow fer’no money. - It’s only my way, an’ don’t mean nothin’.” j Ralpb Burnbam turned ‘upon bim with a frown, , ; ** ve heard sheep blaatin’ afore this—” ss _ Hol’ on, you /” and a’ stumpy forefinger was shaken close before his face. ‘‘ I don’t go back onto mutton, but I draws @ line at the “wool. I'm a straight-ha’red critter; Jbe) A sldep ole tom-cat when you rub the fur the right way, but scratch me ag’inst the grain, an’ Pm porkypine with a dozen bairds on the p’into’ each an’ every quill. Give meadouble stir, an’ then Icome out in my Sunday duds—A Hara , @ thousan’ miles the other side 0’ civilized creation!’ I spit blué, green an’ yaller, an’ wharever it draps, horn toads an’ snattlerakés sprott up like weeds in a tater-patch! Git me real, double-proof mad, an’ I split my hide up the back an’ come out a mount’in that kivers seven counties, not count- in’ the foot-hills! An’ I begin to feel a little mite crawly already—not that. I want to. skeer you, stranger!” ; ‘“‘Skeer your grandmother's hind foot!” con- temptuousiy interjected the veteran. ‘‘ Look here, you. Don’t go to puttin’ on too many bbe git tne starch took out of ‘em in a way that won’t make ‘you sleep any easier this night. I’ve listened to gas-bags blow off afore now, an’ when they got good a-goin’, I’ve — the floor with ‘em, an’ never tuck a extry breath while it lasted, nuther.” _ The stranger gazed at bim from head to-foot,, _ Bi. 2:5 DAT! ils 1 Ti ge DiovwW COMMICELOOOKS ‘ ee > i , - + a ‘ ‘a ‘i> a ~* = ut he) : -— Pe Eolr . si © . ~* sti al e MS vet Be fe . oe £°4S ‘ pa