of Dick, no matter what sort of luck fate dished out tew him. I shore am
glad Dick has hit it for th' Leetle Woman's sake, as well as his own.
Now, 'bout y'ur dads. That's their house up thar, 'bout a dozen rods
beyond Dickson's. But, I reckon, we won't find none of 'em at home this
time of th' day," and he turned his horses into a rude trail that wound
up the side of the hill toward the little grove of pine trees, in which
the boys could see the little cabin where Dickson lived and beyond that
a larger log house.

During this time Dickson had been speeding up the hill, shouting and
yelling the good news at the top of his voice as he ran. Suddenly the
boys saw the door of the cabin thrown open, and a woman rush out and run
madly down the rough trail toward the miner, her long unconfined hair
streaming out behind her.

"Whoop! I've struck it! Struck it rich, Mollie!" they heard Dickson
yell, while from down the hill rang out cheer after cheer from the
little group of miners now gathered about Dickson's find and watching
the meeting between the lucky man and the "Little Woman," as nearly all
the miners in Hangtown called Mrs. Dickson.

A few minutes later Dickson and the "Little Woman," hand in hand, like
two happy children, ran past them on their way down to the wonderful
find.

Thure and Bud, and even Ham, cheered and yelled as they ran by; and the
woman turned her shining eyes in their direction and waved her free hand
and shouted a welcome to the two boys.

"I shore am glad that Dickson made that strike," Ham again remarked,
with something that looked suspiciously like moisture in his eyes. "He's
a deservin' cuss; an' th' Leetle Woman's ben like a mother tew us all."

CHAPTER XV

AROUND THE SUPPER TABLE

Ham's expectations were fulfilled; for they found the log house vacant,
with a sign on the door that read: "BACK ABOUT SUNDOWN."

"Wal, jest dismount an' unpack an' make y'urselves tew home. We'll git
things all straightened out afore we start out tew hunt up th'
delinquents," and Ham began unpacking his horses.

But Thure and Bud had to have a look inside the house, before they
untied a rope or unbuckled a strap; and, the moment they dismounted,
they rushed to the door and entered.

The house was a very rude affair--just four walls of logs, roughly
fitted with an ax and laid one on top of the other to a height of seven
feet, enclosing a space some twenty-five feet long by eighteen feet
wide, with a bark roof, ground floor, a door cut through the logs in the
middle of one side, and three windows, one in each side and one in the
end opposite the fireplace. The fireplace was very roughly constructed
of stones and sticks, plastered together with a clay-like mud, and with
the chimney built entirely outside of the house.

The furniture was in keeping with the house. The table was the split
halves of a log, cut about ten feet long and laid side by side, with
their flat sides up, supported by four short posts driven into the
ground near the center of the room. The chairs were blocks of wood, set
on end, reënforced by a couple of old boxes and two miners' easy chairs,
a unique production, made by cutting down an empty flour barrel to
something of the shape of an armed easy chair and attaching two rockers
to the bottom. The seats of these chairs were often lined and stuffed in
good shape and had the comfortable feel and rock of the more costly
chairs of civilization--and what more need a miner ask? Along the side
of the room opposite the door ran a double tier of rude bunks, one side
of the beds being supported by posts driven into the ground and the
other by the logs of the wall. On the wall near the fireplace hung the
frying-pans and the other rude cooking utensils; and in a corner were
piled the bags, barrels, kegs, and boxes containing their camp supplies.

When you are told that this, at that time in Hangtown, was considered a
rather luxurious style of living, you may be able to form something of
an idea of the kind of style in which the average miner lived.

"Well, they don't put on much style, do they?" and the eyes Thure turned
to Bud twinkled with excitement and interest.

"Don't they! Just feast your eyes on this!" and Bud, dropping down into
the soft seat of one of the "easy" chairs, leaned back comfortably and
began rocking. "Now, if this isn't style and comfort, then I don't know
what style and comfort are. Better try it," and he winked toward the
other "easy" chair.

Thure at once profited by the suggestion.

"Well, I swun to goodness!" he declared, as he rocked back and forth in
the novel chair, "if this doesn't beat mother's easy rocker for comfort.
I reckon dad will have to make her one, when we get back home," and he
grinned.

"Say," and Ham strode into the house, a bag of flour on one shoulder, a
box of canned stuff under one arm, and a grin all over his face, "if you
yunks think you've come up here tew dew nuthin' but tew set an' rock in
y'ur dads' easy chairs, you've got another think comin' an' comin'
quick. Now, git them packs off th' backs of y'ur hosses an' intew th'
house. This ain't no Home of Cumfort for lazy yunks. Out with you!" and,
dropping the bag of flour and the box in the corner, he started for the
two boys.

Thure and Bud "outed" as fast as their four legs could take them; and
soon were busy getting the packs off their horses and the goods into the
house. When this had been done and the horses had been cared for, the
sun was nearing the tops of the western mountains; and it was decided
not to hunt up the "delinquents," as Ham called them, but to await their
return at the house; and, in the meantime, to prepare such a supper for
them as seldom blessed a miner's eyes and excited his appetite, from the
delicacies Mrs. Conroyal and Mrs. Randolph had sent in the packs of the
boys. Then, in addition, Thure and Bud determined to try and give their
fathers, who, of course, supposed the two boys were still at home with
their mothers and sisters on the rancho, a little surprise. By keeping a
sharp lookout down the trail they could be warned of the coming of the
men in sufficient time to put their surprise in operation.

Accordingly they got everything in readiness, first by tying their
horses out of sight behind a clump of bushes and removing every outward
sign of their presence, and then by drawing the two easy chairs up close
together in front of the door and placing one of the blocks of wood used
as seats in front of each chair. When they saw their fathers coming,
they would take their places in these chairs, lean back comfortably in
them, place their feet at a comfortable angle on top of the blocks of
wood, and, thus sitting cozily in the two easy chairs, be the first
objects to meet their fathers' eyes on entering the house. They fancied
that this unexpected sight might surprise the two men some; and they
were not disappointed.

Fortunately for the success of their "surprise," Mr. Conroyal and Mr.
Randolph led the little procession of miners that appeared a few minutes
after sundown, coming up the trail leading to the log house.

"Here they come!" cried Bud, who was stationed at the window overlooking
the trail, the moment the men appeared in sight. "Hurry, Thure, and get
into your chair."

The two boys quickly seated themselves in the barrel-rockers, perched
their feet comfortably on top of the blocks of wood, leaned back
comfortably into the hollows of their chairs, and fixed their eyes on
the door, their faces shining with excitement.

At last the door was flung open and the big frame of Noel Conroyal,
backed by that of Rad Randolph, appeared in the doorway.

For a moment both men stopped right where they were, and stood staring
in blank astonishment at the faces of the two boys sitting in the two
chairs.

"Walk right in," invited Thure, his eyes dancing.

"Yes, come right in and have supper with us," urged Bud.

For an instant longer the two men stood staring; and then both of them
made a rush for the two boys; and, as they were almost instantly
followed by Dill Conroyal, Thure's older brother, Rex Holt, Thure's
cousin, and Frank Holt, Thure's uncle and the father of Rex Holt, you
can imagine the excitement and confusion that reigned in that log house
and how swiftly the questions flew back and forth for the next few
minutes. The men had been away from their homes and their dear ones for
nearly a year now; and, naturally, were exceedingly anxious to learn
what had been going on during their absence. Suddenly, when the
excitement had quieted down a little, Mr. Conroyal's face clouded and
something that looked very much like a frown gathered on his forehead,
as he turned to Thure.

"But, young man," and the frown on his face deepened, "how comes it that
you are here, against my express commands? I left you at home to care
for your mother and sister and the rancho. Why have you deserted your
trust?"

"Oh, dad," and Thure turned excitedly to his father, "the most wonderful
thing has happened! We found a dying miner, who had been robbed and
stabbed; and he, just before he died, gave us a map that tells us how to
find a Cave of Gold that he had discovered; and mother, our mothers,
thought you ought to know about it; and so we are here, to get you all
to help find this wonderful Cave of Gold. The miner said that the bottom
of the cave was covered with gold nuggets, just covered with them, dad."

"And he gave us one of the nuggets, a whopper!" broke in Bud.

"And your mothers were foolish enough to believe such an improbable tale
and to send you here on such a wildgoose chase!" and something that
began to look very much like anger darkened Mr. Conroyal's face. "Why,
the camp is full of such tales; but no sensible man ever pays any
attention to them."

"But, dad, you haven't heard our story yet; and you haven't seen the map
and the nugget," insisted Thure eagerly. "I am sure you will not blame
us for coming when you know all."

"Well, my son," and Mr. Conroyal's lips tightened grimly, "we'll have a
look at that map and nugget and hear that wonderful story of yours and
then, if it doesn't look as if it might pan out true, back you will
start for home at sun-up to-morrow morning. What do you say, Rad?" and
he turned to Mr. Randolph. "The boys must be made to understand that
they can't desert a trust like that at every wild tale they hear."

"Right," agreed Mr. Randolph. "They start back for home to-morrow
morning, if their tale does not sound reasonable enough to make good
their coming. They were all the men folks left that the women could
depend on; and the reason must be a strong one to justify their
deserting them."

"But, we did not desert them," expostulated Bud. "They gave us
permission to come, told us to come, because they thought you ought to
know about the Cave of Gold and the map, and there was no one else to
send," and Bud's cheeks flushed a little with disappointment and
indignation.

"Wal, now," and the good-natured face of Ham loomed up between the two
boys, "I reckon, if you all will jest take a look at that thar table,
you'll stop y'ur talkin' and git tew eatin' some sudden. 'Tain't once in
a dog's age that a miner in Hangtown can sot down tew a table like
that," and Ham waved both hands proudly in the direction of the
split-log table, on which he had spread out, with lavish hands, the
cakes, pies, jellies, fruits, butter, eggs and the other good things
sent from home, together with the results of his own more substantial
cooking, fried bacon, nicely browned flapjacks, and steaming hot coffee.

"Whoop!" yelled Rex. "Me for the eat!" and, grabbing up one of the
blocks of wood, he made a rush for the table, followed by all present.

That was a jolly supper. The sight of the unaccustomed good things to
eat put everybody in good nature--and no wonder! for their eyes had not
seen an egg or a cake or a pie or a hunk of butter, to say nothing of
the jelly and the fruit, in Hangtown before for six months; and nobody
knows how good these things look and taste, until they have been without
even a smell of them for some months, and living on a steady diet of
salt pork and beans and man-made bread. But, at length, as all good
things will, the eating came to an end; and then, almost involuntarily,
all eyes turned toward Thure and Bud. Their stomachs were filled; and
now all were in the best possible condition to listen to their story.

"Now, for that dead miner's wonderful tale," and Conroyal turned to
Thure.

"Jest wait a minit afore you begin," and Ham arose suddenly from the
table. "We want no outside listeners tew this tale," and, hurrying
outside, he made a hasty circuit of the house, to assure himself that
there were no eavesdroppers. When he came in he remarked, by way of
answer to the inquiring glances turned in his direction: "You will know
why I'm so cautious-like afore th' yunks come tew th' end of their tale;
an', I reckon," and he glanced around the circle of somewhat startled
faces that surrounded the table, "afore they begin, we'd better have it
understood by all that thar is tew be no talkin' outside 'bout this
matter, that it's tew be kept as close as our own skins tew ourselves.
It has already caused th' death of th' old miner, an' mighty nigh th'
death of them yunks thar, as you'll soon larn, an' death is still hot on
th' trail, so it's jest good boss-sense for us tew be cautious-like. We
don't want no more killin's, if we can help it. Now, I reckon, you can
begin y'ur yarn," and, seating himself, he nodded his head to Thure and
Bud.

You may be sure that, after these ominous actions and words of Ham,
there was no lack of interest in the faces now turned toward the two
boys.

Thure began the story; and, helped here and there by Bud and often
interrupted by the angry exclamations of his excited hearers, he told
the remarkable tale, from the killing of _El Feroz_ and the death of the
old miner to their own startling arrest for murder in the streets of
Sacramento City and narrow rescue from the hangman's rope by the
providential coming of Hammer Jones and Colonel Fremont.

"And those two cowardly skunks got away!" almost yelled Conroyal, as he
banged his big fist down on the table, his face white with wrath. "And
after they had almost succeeded in getting two innocent boys hanged for
a crime they committed themselves!"

"They sart'in did," answered Ham grimly. "An' what's more th' cunnin'
devils like as not are still on th' trail of that thar skin map th' old
miner gave th' boys. That's why I reckon we'll need tew be some
cautious."

"But, where is this wonderful skin map and that big gold nugget?" cried
Rex Holt, his eyes shining and his face flushing. "Let us have a look at
them," and he jumped to his feet and leaned across the table, so as to
be nearer to Thure.

"Dill, you and Rex just take a run around the house to see that the
coast is still clear, before the boys show up the gold nugget and the
skin map," and Mr. Conroyal glanced sharply toward the door and the
windows. "As Ham says, we want no eavesdroppers in this case."

Dill and Rex at once sprang to the door; and, moving in opposite
directions, each slowly made the circuit of the house, their keen eyes
searching the surrounding darkness. They neither saw nor heard anything
suspicious.

"Now, we'll have a look at that map and gold nugget," Mr. Conroyal said,
as soon as Rex and Dill had returned and reported the coast clear. "Of
course," and he glanced around the circle of faces, "it is understood
that all that is said and seen here to-night is to be kept secret by
all, whether or not the search for the Cave of Gold is made."

"Yes, yes!" cried Dill impatiently. "We're all in on it together and
must not breathe a word about it to an outsider. We all understand that,
don't we?"

All the heads around the table quickly nodded assent.

"Now, then, let us have that map and gold nugget," and he turned
excitedly to Thure and Bud.

Thure at once thrust his hand under the bosom of his shirt and under his
left shoulder and pulled out the miner's little buckskin bag. Then he
opened the bag and pulled out the map.

"The skin map," he said, and, laying it down on the table, he swiftly
turned the bag upside down and dumped the gold nugget down on top of it.
"And here is the gold nugget."

For a moment no one moved; but all sat staring at the big yellow chunk
of metal, shining ruddily in the light of the flickering candles, as it
dropped from the bag and came to a rest on the skin map and lay there on
the table in front of Thure.

"Gosh, that sart'in looks like th' real stuff!" and the big hand of Ham
reached out and picked up the nugget and hefted it critically. "Solid
gold!" he declared, his eyes shining. "Jest heft it, Con," and he passed
the nugget to Conroyal. "Wal, I reckon you yunks have made good. Now,
let's see what's on that thar piece of skin," and, picking up the map,
he smoothed it out on the table and stared down on it, while as many
heads as possible crowded close to his head and stared down on the map
with him.

"John Stackpole, did anyone here ever hear of a feller by th' name of
John Stackpole?" and Ham raised his head and glanced around.

"I know the man," declared Frank Holt, the father of Rex, whose snowy
white hair gave him a patriarchal appearance. "I remember now. That's
the name the fellow gave I saw in Coleman's store 'bout two weeks ago.
He had a peculiar scar, shaped something like a horseshoe over one of
his eyes."

"That's the man! You remember that queer-shaped scar over one of his
eyes, don't you?" and Bud turned excitedly to Thure.

"Yes," answered Thure. "He must have just got back from the cave. What
was he doing, Uncle Frank?" and he turned eagerly to Mr. Holt.

"Well, he certainly looked as if he had just come out of a cave,"
grinned Holt. "Clothes all in rags and dirty, and hair and beard all
over his head, except his eyes and nose and mouth. But," and his face
lighted up, "he seemed to have plenty of gold-dust; for, while I was
standing there watching him curiously, he picked out a good suit of
clothes and paid for them out of a bag heavy with gold, gold that was
mostly small nuggets.

"'Struck it, pard,' and I saw Coleman's eyes glisten, as he gathered in
them small nuggets, for the gold wasn't no Hangtown gold. Anybody with
eyes could see that.

"'Just a pocket,' answered the man. 'But good and rich, for a pocket.'

"'Whereabouts might it be, if I ain't asking too much?' queried Coleman,
who I could see was some excited over that bag full of little gold
nuggets, as he placed the bundle of clothes down in front of the man.

"'Thank you,' answered the man gruffly, and, picking up the bundle, he
hurried out of the store, considerably to the disappointment of Coleman.

"Now, I calculate, that must have been our man, for he certainly told
Coleman that his name was John Stackpole, when he asked him if any
message had been left there for him. I remember it all plain, because I
got some excited over that bag full of little gold nuggets myself; but I
didn't call to mind the name until Ham called it out."

For many minutes the map and the gold nugget were now passed from hand
to hand and thoroughly examined by all, while the tongues of all wagged
with excited comments and Thure and Bud were often called upon to repeat
parts of their story. But, at length, Noel Conroyal, who had been
elected President of the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company, into
which our good friends, the Conroyals, the Randolphs, the Holts, and
Hammer Jones, had organized themselves, stood up and pounded on the
table with his big fist.

"The Never-Give-Up California Mining Company will come to order," he
said, the moment the talking ceased; "for the purpose of considering the
matter laid before it by Thure Conroyal and Bud Randolph and to
determine what action, if any, shall be taken."

"Oh, cut out the big talk, dad, and just let's talk it over together,"
protested Dill a bit impatiently; for, when Mr. Conroyal assumed the
office and the dignities of the President of the Never-Give-Up
California Mining Company, he was apt to be a little formal and
long-winded. "We don't need the formalities and they take up time."

"All right, if that is the wish of the company," agreed Mr. Conroyal
good-naturedly. "I only wanted to get to doing something besides
talking."

"I think," declared Ham, "that, now that we've heer'd th' story an' seen
th' skin map an' th' gold nugget, we'd better sleep on it afore we
decide anything, 'specially seein' that it's gittin' late, an' all on
us, I reckon, are plumb tired; an' tharfore, I move that this here
meetin' be adjourned 'til tew-morrer mornin', an' that all on us be
ordered tew git intew our bunks an' go tew sleep."

Ham's suggestion sounded so sensible, for even the excitement could no
longer keep their tired bodies and brains from calling out for rest and
sleep, that it was adopted at once, with only a few feeble protests;
and, in fifteen minutes from the time it was made the lights were out
and all were in their bunks.

"Say, dad," queried Thure a bit mischievously, as he and Bud crawled
under the blankets of one of the bunks, "do we have to start back for
home at sun-up?"

"No, shut up and go to sleep," growled back Mr. Conroyal.

CHAPTER XVI

UNEXPECTED COMPANY

The next morning everybody at the Headquarters of the Never-Give-Up
California Mining Company was up an hour before the sun flashed its
golden light over the tops of the eastern mountains and down on the log
cabins and tents of Hangtown. All the workers in the mining-camps went
to bed early, tired out with their hard day's work with pick and shovel,
slept soundly, and arose early the next morning to begin another day of
toil. Only the drones--the gamblers, the saloon-keepers, and their
foolish patrons--burned the midnight oil, or, rather in this case, the
midnight candle, for there was little oil to burn in these camps. Hence
it was that when Thure and Bud hurried out of the house to wash their
hands and faces in a near-by spring, they saw that they were far from
being the only early risers, that the smoke was rising from the chimneys
of nearly every log cabin in sight and that in front of nearly every
tent glowed a camp-fire, around which the cooks already could be seen
preparing breakfast.

"Well, this is great!" declared Bud, as he dashed the cool, refreshing
water over his face. "I feel like a new man already. There must be
something in this mountain air that gets into the blood and puts new
life into a fellow. Say, but isn't this a beautiful sight, like--like a
picture painted by a great artist!" and his eyes swept over the
surrounding scene, now just becoming visible through the light of the
early dawn.

"You are right, it is a beautiful scene," and Thure stood up and allowed
his eyes to drink in, with all the enthusiasm of youth, the beauties of
the scene; "but, I reckon, there is no artist that can paint a picture
the equal of that," and he pointed to the distant tops of the eastern
mountains. "It takes the brush of God to paint that kind of pictures!"

And Thure was right. No artist's skill could transfer to canvas the full
glories of such a scene as now delighted the eyes of Thure and Bud.

The first rays of the morning's sun flamed upon the snow-covered tops of
the mountains towering high above their heads to the eastward, while the
mountainsides and valleys were still dark with the shadows of night; and
everywhere the flaming light of morning struck the crystal-white of the
snow on mountain top and pinnacle, that peak was crowned with a glorious
halo that glowed, first with grayish violet lights, swiftly changing to
crimson and rose, and from rose to gold, until, suddenly, the whole peak
blazed forth in the glorious light of the full-risen sun. A vision for
an artist to rhapsodize over; but for a God to paint!

"Bre'kfust! First an' last call tew bre'kfust!" yelled Ham from the open
door of the house, just as the sun burst over the tops of the mountains.

"I feel as if I had just been to church," Thure said reverently, as the
two boys started back to the house.

"So do I," agreed Bud. "Only no church or priest ever seem to bring God
as close to a fellow as such a scene as that does. I don't see how
anybody can live in the mountains and not believe in God."

As soon as breakfast was eaten, Mr. Conroyal arose.

"Now," he said, "that we have all had a night in which to think over the
tale of the dead miner we had better get together and decide on what we
had best do; and, as Dill suggested last night, we will first talk it
over in an informal way. Now, what do you think about the truth of the
miner's yarn? That, of course, is the first thing to settle; for there
is no need of bothering with the matter at all, unless we feel quite
sure that the miner really found a cave something like the one he
described to Thure and Bud."

"Well, considering all things," and Frank Holt took the pipe he had lit
and was puffing on out of his mouth and laid it down on the table, "and
more especially considering the fact, that, when I saw him in Coleman's,
he appeared to have just got in from a long prospecting spell in the
mountains and to have plenty of gold along with him, and gold of a
different kind than is found anywhere around here, I feel quite certain
that Stackpole's yarn about finding that Cave of Gold comes pretty nigh
to being true, nigh enough at least to be worth investigating."

"Them's my sentiments right down tew a T," declared Ham emphatically.
"Whar thar's ben so much smoke, thar's sart'in tew be some fire. I'm in
favor of makin' a hunt for th' Cave of Gold; but, afore doin' it, I'd
like tew know how that thar wing dam project over in Holt's Gulch is
promisin' tew pan out. If 'twon't take tew long, I'd like tew see that
job finished afore we have a try for th' Cave of Gold. I reckon we've
all put tew many backaches an' armaches intew that dam tew want tew see
'em wasted; an' thar might be a wagon load of gold thar, an', if thar
is, we want tew be th' ones tew git it, after all our work."

"Right, Ham's right," asserted Mr. Randolph. "Now, supposing we all go
down and have a look at that dam, and try to figure out just about how
much longer it will take to finish it, before we decide anything
definitely about the hunt for the Cave of Gold. I feel almost sure that
we are going to strike it rich there, and I'd hate like sin to see any
one else reap where we've sown so many backaches, as Ham says."

"I think Rad has it about right," declared Mr. Conroyal, "and, if there
are no objections, we'll all go down to Holt's Gulch and have a look at
the wing dam. I fancy it wouldn't please none of us much, after working
as hard as we have, to see somebody else step into our boots there and
reap a fortune, as like as not they'd do, if we deserted the dam now. I
reckon it won't take more than a week to finish the dam; and then a few
hours will show whether or not we've struck pay-dirt."

There were no objections made to this proposition, although Rex and Dill
and Thure and Bud grumbled a little over the prospect of having the hunt
for the Cave of Gold delayed for a week; and, accordingly, all started
for Holt's Gulch, so named in honor of its discoverer, Rex Holt.

The gulch was about two miles from Hangtown and was reached by passing
up a deep and steep ravine, that split the side of the hill a little
above Hangtown, for about a mile, and then up and over the side of the
ravine and down into a narrow little valley, into which a little stream
of water tumbled through a rent in the walls of rock that nearly
enclosed the valley. This rent in the rocks was the entrance to Holt's
Gulch; and the dam was being constructed something like half a mile
farther up, where the gulch crooked about, like a bent elbow, and
widened out a little.

Many of the miners were already at work when our little company passed
up the ravine on their way to Holt's Gulch, presenting scenes of the
greatest interest and novelty to the unaccustomed eyes of Thure and Bud,
as they dug for the precious metal, sometimes up to their knees in mud
and water, sometimes so far away from the water that all the pay-dirt
had to be carried on their backs to the creek and there panned, but
always cheerful and hopeful that they "sure would strike it big soon."

"Now, what might those fellows be doing there? They look as if they
might be winnowing wheat; but, of course, that can't be what they are
doing," and Thure turned a puzzled face to Ham, as he pointed to where a
small company of Mexicans, lank and skinny and black as Arabs of the
desert, were gathering the loose dry dirt in large wooden bowls, tossing
it up in the air, where the wind could blow away the lighter particles,
and dexterously catching it again in their bowls, as it came down, or
allowing it to fall on blankets or hides spread on the ground at their
feet, in a manner very similar to the ancient method of separating the
grain from the chaff.

"Them are a breed of Mexies called Sonorans," answered Ham; "an' they
are a-throwin' that dirt up in th' air an' a-catchin' it ag'in tew git
th' gold out of it. You see th' wind keeps a-blowin' th' lighter dirt
out an' a-leavin' th' gold, 'cause it's heavier, until thar's nuthin'
left but th' dirt what's tew heavy for th' wind tew blow away an' th'
gold-dust, which is cleaned by blowing th' heavy dirt out of th' bowl
with th' breath. That way of gittin' gold is called dry-washin'; an' is
tew slow an' dirty for Americans or anybody else that's got much gump
tew 'em; but them tarnal Mexies seem tew thrive on it. I reckon th' good
Lord made 'em nearly black, jest so they could live an' work in dirt,
without th' dirt showin' through much. That sort of thing would kill a
white man in a week," and Ham looked his disgust.

"Say, but this gold-digging is no fun, no matter how you do it, is it?"
and Thure's eyes swept up and down the ravine, where hundreds of men
were toiling like ditch-diggers.

"Fun! Gold-diggin' fun!" and Ham grinned. "Th' feller what comes tew th'
diggin's a-thinkin' that th' gold is a-goin' tew jump up right out of
th' ground, 'cause it's so glad tew see him, is a-goin' tew git fooled
'bout as bad as Dutch Ike did, when he took a skunk for a new kind of an
American house cat an' tried tew pick it up in his arms. Fun! No;
gold-diggin' is jest grit an' j'int grease mixed tewgether an' kept
a-goin' with beans an' salt pork an' flapjacks. But, we're gettin' ahind
a-watchin' them dirty Sonorans. Come on," and the huge strides of Ham
made Thure and Bud both trot to keep up with him, as he hurried after
the others, to whom the dry-washing Mexicans were too common a sight to
be worthy a moment's pause for the purpose of watching.

"Now, dad," and Thure turned inquiringly to his father, when, at length,
all stood together in Holt's Gulch on the mound of dirt that had been
already thrown up in building the wing dam, "I don't just see how this
dam is going to help you find the gold."

"Well, my son," and Mr. Conroyal smiled, "it is not at all surprising to
find that you do not know all about mining, seeing that you have been in
the diggings only over night; but I'll give you the theory of the dam.
This little stream of water, as you can see from where we stand, makes
rather a sharp turn a few rods down, against an almost perpendicular
wall of rock, forming a curve in the stream that can be likened to the
crook in a bent arm, and leaving quite a little open space of ground
almost on a level with the water in the bend of the arm. Now we've
discovered that there is a deep hole right at the elbow joint, partly
filled with gravel and big enough to hold a good many tons of gold, but
too deep to get at through the water; and we've figured it out something
like this. The gold found in all the diggings along the beds of rivers
has been washed out of the rocks by the water and carried down by the
current, until stopped by its own weight or some obstruction; and we
calculate that most of the gold carried down by this stream would sink
down into this hole and stay there, because, gold being so heavy, it
would sure fall down into the hole, and, once there, the water would not
be strong enough to lift it out again. Now, that is the reason why we
think there might be gold and lots of it in that there hole," and he
pointed to the elbow made by the curve in the stream.

"But, of course, not being fish, we cannot get down into the hole to see
whether or not there is gold in it, as long as the water runs over it;
and so we are making this wing dam up here above the elbow, to turn the
stream into a new channel and send it flowing kitti-corner-wise across
the opening between the two arms of the elbow and back into its own
channel below the elbow, which, of course, would leave the elbow dry and
give us a chance to clean out the hole and get all the gold there is in
it."

"Oh, I see now!" exclaimed Thure, his eyes beginning to shine with
excitement. "And you call it a wing dam, because you have to make a sort
of a wing to the main dam, extending for quite a ways out on the dry
land, in order to give the water a sufficient turn to keep it from
flowing back into the old channel until you are ready to have it."

"Exactly," and Mr. Conroyal smiled. "And, if the good Lord will only
keep it from raining until we get the dam finished, all of us might make
our fortunes right here; and, again, we might not find a cent's worth of
gold. It's all a speculation," and he shrugged his big shoulders.

"But--but what difference could a little rain make? You are not afraid
of getting wet, are you?" and Thure smiled at the thought of these hardy
men standing in dread of a little rain.

"No, son, we are not afraid of getting wet," and Mr. Conroyal smiled
grimly. "But a big rain up there in the mountains where this stream
comes from, would mean that in less than no time a flood of water would
come a-tearing down this narrow gulch that would sweep our dam off its
feet quicker than you could wink an eye--and us along with it, if we
didn't get out of here about as lively as the Lord would let us.
Howsomever we are not counting much on a rain, seeing that the dry
season has got a fairly good start; but it might come," and his eyes
turned a little anxiously toward the snow-covered mountains to the
northeast, whence came the little stream of water running through Holt's
Gulch. "But, come, we must get busy. Now, the first thing for us to do
is to figure out about how much longer it will take us to finish the
dam. I calculate that we have the dam about two-thirds done; and, since
we have now been at work twelve days, I think we can count on finishing
it in another six days."

"That's 'bout my idee, Con," agreed Ham. "Another six days otter see th'
finish of th' job; an' then--maybe it will be gold an' maybe it will be
jest a lot of durned hard work for nothin'; but it shore looks good; an'
I'm in favor of seein' this dam through afore tacklin' th' Cave of Gold
propersition."

For an hour or more our friends measured and figured and considered; and
then, all coming to the conclusion that Mr. Conroyal's estimate of the
time required to complete the dam was about right, the Never-Give-Up
California Mining Company went into executive session, and, after again
considering the marvelous tale of the dead miner and again examining the
gold nugget and the skin map and again carefully weighing their chances
of finding gold in the hollow of the stream's elbow after the turning of
the water aside by the dam, the Company finally decided that the dam
proposition looked too good to throw up, even for such an alluring
project as the hunt for the wonderful Cave of Gold, especially since the
Cave of Gold could not run away and would still be there waiting to be
found after the dam proposition had been thoroughly tried out.
Accordingly it was voted to first complete the dam and see if there was
any gold in the old bed of the stream; and then, if it was still the
wish of the Company, they would start on a hunt for the miner's Cave of
Gold.

"That means for everybudy tew git busy tew once with pick or shovel,"
and Ham jumped to his feet and seized a pick the moment the result of
the final vote was announced. "We want tew git this here dam built jest
as soon as we can, an' find out what's in that thar hole; an' then, I
reckon, we'll all want tew have a try for that thar gold cave, unless we
gits enough gold out of th' hole tew plumb fill us all up with gold,"
and Ham grinned joyously, as he struck the sharp point of his pick down
deep into the hard dirt.

There was always the prospect of a big find in the near future to keep
up the spirits of the gold-digger. What did his condition to-day matter
to him, when to-morrow he might fill his pockets full of gold! When all
he had to do was to shoulder his pick and shovel, pick up his gold-pan,
and go out almost anywhere and dig enough gold out of the ground at
least to live on! When every morning was cheered by the possibility of
striking it rich before night, and the discouragements of every night
were lightened by the thought that to-morrow might be his lucky day! The
star of hope always brightened his darkest skies; and so long as he kept
his health, he usually kept his courage and good-nature. Consequently
the reader need not wonder at the joyous grin on Ham's face, when he
began tearing up the earth with his pick; for every blow might be
bringing him a step nearer to a fortune!

The building of a dam under any circumstances is hard and dirty work;
but, when the only tools are picks and shovels, when all the dirt that
cannot be thrown into place with the shovel, must be lugged there on the
backs of the laborers themselves, as was the case with our friends,
then, indeed, does the building of a dam become about as fatiguing work
as a human being can undertake to do, as Thure and Bud both discovered
long before the night of their first day's work in the goldmines of
California came to bring rest to their aching backs and arms and legs.
But that day saw the completion of the wing part of the dam and the new
channel so far as it was thought necessary to dig one and now all that
remained to be done was to extend the dam across the stream itself; and
this progress put all, even the two boys notwithstanding their
weariness, into splendid spirits.

"I reckon it won't take us th' hull six days tew finish th' job,"
commented Ham, as he threw down his pick and wiped his perspiring face
with a huge red handkerchief at the close of the day's work. "We didn't
calculate that you tew yunks was such hosses tew work," and he grinned
into the faces of Thure and Bud; and the two tired boys grinned bravely
back. They were not going to let anybody know just how very, very tired
they really were.

That night, when the returning laborers came within sight of their log
house, they were greatly surprised to see the smoke pouring hospitably
out of its chimney and a light glowing a bright welcome through its
windows.

"Now, who can it be!" exclaimed Ham, the moment his eyes caught sight of
the smoke and the light, while all quickened their steps and their faces
brightened; for company in that lonely log house was such a rarity as to
be most gladly welcomed. "Won't expectin' nobudy, was you, Con?"

"No," answered Conroyal. "I can't imagine who it can be."

"Maybe it's th' minister an' his wife come tew make us a social-like
call. Wal, he won't git no chicken dinner, if it is," and Ham grinned.

At the door of the house the mystery was solved by the sudden appearance
in the doorway of the smiling face of Mrs. Dickson glowing with the heat
of the fire over which she had been cooking and her own happiness,
backed by the grinning countenance of her husband.

"Dick and I felt just as if we had to celebrate our good fortune
someway, or bust," she explained, smiling and bowing to the astonished
men; "and, of course, we didn't want to celebrate it all alone, so we
just moved in here for the celebration, your house being larger than
ours. Now, get washed up as quick as you can and come right in. Supper
is almost ready; and Dick has bought out nearly all the stores in
Hangtown. Thought you men folks might enjoy a taste of woman's cooking
again," and her sweet laugh rang out joyously.

"Got everything good to eat they had in Hangtown, boys," and Dickson
thrust his head out over one of his wife's shoulders; "and Mollie's
cooked a dinner that just fairly makes a fellow's insides jump to get a
whiff of. Whoop! I've taken a good Ten Thousand Dollars' worth of gold
out of that hole by the side of the big rock already! And there is more
left there, boys! There is more left there!" and the happy man caught
his wife around the waist and began waltzing with her around the table.

"Wal, I'll be durned!" was the way Ham expressed his feelings at this
unexpected but most welcomed invasion of their home; and, judging from
the looks on the faces of the others, that was about the way all felt.

Our friends promptly hurried away to the spring to "wash up," as the
Little Woman had commanded; and soon were back again, with, probably,
just a little cleaner faces and hands than they had had before in weeks.

"Now, just sit right down to the table," Mrs. Dickson urged, the moment
they came filing in. "Everything is ready for you to begin eating right
away; and nobody is to wait on ceremony. I know you must be about as
hungry as bears. Dick and I have already eaten until we are both about
ready to bust, the things looked and smelled so good we couldn't wait no
how, so we've got nothing else to do but just to wait on you big hungry
men--There, sit right down there, Ham, in front of that gold-pan
full--but it is a surprise; and I won't tell you what is in that pan
yet," and she pushed the grinning Ham down on the block of wood that did
service in lieu of a dining chair in front of a steaming covered
gold-pan.

One near whiff of the contents of this pan and Ham jumped to his feet.

"Whoop, boys!" he yelled. "It's chicken! It's chicken pie! Whoop! Hurrah
for th' Leetle Woman!" and, whirling suddenly around, he threw one big
arm around Mrs. Dickson, drew her quickly to him, and gave her a smack
on one of her rosy cheeks that sounded like the report of a pistol.

"And the only chickens in Hangtown are in that pie," declared Dickson
proudly. "When we saw those birds Mollie and I just couldn't keep our
hands off them. They seemed to be just a-begging us to buy them and make
them into a chicken pie. Now, fall to, boys; and, with every mouthful
that you eat, think of our good luck. It means a lot to us, boys, a
whole lot to the Little Woman and me. We are going back to our dear old
New York home on the beautiful banks of the Hudson--Hi, there, Ham! Just
start the chicken pie a-going round. You are not the only mouth at the
table," and Dickson, doubtless feeling that sentiment was beginning to
get a little the best of him, rushed excitedly about the table, as he
helped to pass the good things Mrs. Dickson had cooked from one to
another.

That was a dinner to remember as long as one lived. The circumstances of
its giving were so unusual and so generous, its surroundings were so
unique, and its jolliness was so whole-hearted and spontaneous, that
ever afterwards it was one of the bright spots in the memories of all
who were present.

When the eating was ended the men went outside and built a huge fire in
front of the house; and then sat down around it and smoked their pipes
and told stories and compared mining notes and discussed the
ever-present questions of where the gold came from and how it got there,
all of which would make interesting reading, but which, because of other
events that are crowding forward, must be passed over thus briefly.

For a couple of hours the talk around the camp-fire continued; Mrs.
Dickson had joined the circle, and then Mr. and Mrs. Dickson both rose.

"It's getting late and we must be going," declared Mrs. Dickson.

"Not yit! Not yit! Not until you've sung for us!" cried Ham, jumping to
his feet. "We can't let her go without a song, can we, boys?"

The reply was an unanimous demand for the song; and Mrs. Dickson,
smiling and bowing and blushing, like a happy schoolgirl, and declaring
that she was afraid she had eaten too much to sing, straightened up her
plump little body, threw back her head, and was about to begin to sing
in the dark shadows where she stood, when Ham caught her by both her
shoulders and gently pushed her out into the bright light of the
camp-fire.

"Th' song wouldn't sound nigh as good, if we couldn't see th' singer
plain," he declared, his face seemingly one broad grin. "Thar, that's
'bout right," and he swung her around so that the brightest light shone
full on her face. "Now give us good old 'Ben Bolt,' Somehow that song
kinder seems tew sweeten me all up inside," and Ham sat down almost
directly in front of Mrs. Dickson.

Mrs. Dickson had a sweet, clear, bird-like voice, and what she lacked in
training she more than made up in the feeling she put into the words she
sang; and her singing always touched the hearts of these lonely miners
deeply. But to-night, as she stood there, with the ruddy light of the
camp-fire shining on her face and dimly illuminating the surrounding
shadows of the lonely night and the towering mountains and the tall pine
trees, and sang the beautiful words and melody of "Sweet Alice, Ben
Bolt," she struck a deeper chord still, and all listened like men
entranced until the last note died away in the silence of the encircling
night.

"I never knowed I liked music so well, 'til I heer'd th' Leetle Woman
sing," declared Ham the moment the sound of Mrs. Dickson's voice ceased.
"Her singin' seems tew come a-knockin' right at th' door of a feller's
heart. Now, dew sing us another one," and he turned pleadingly to Mrs.
Dickson.

"Yes, I will sing you just one more song; and then we must be going. It
must be nearly ten o'clock; and those two tired boys have been nodding
their heads for the last half-hour."

"Me!" "We!" and Thure and Bud both sat up very straight. "Oh, we were
just nodding our heads to keep time to your music. Please do sing
again."

For answer Mrs. Dickson lifted her face to the sparkling skies; and
then, while the tears gathered in her own eyes and her sweet voice
trembled a little, she sang that song dear to the hearts of all
wanderers no matter where they roam, "Home, Sweet Home."

"Now, good night, everybody. Come, Dick," and, turning quickly the
moment she stopped singing, Mrs. Dickson caught hold of her husband's
arm and hurried away before the spell of the song and the singer was
broken.

A half an hour later the lights in both the houses were out and their
inmates sound asleep.

CHAPTER XVII

POCKFACE AGAIN

Thure and Bud were very tired and very sleepy and both slept very
soundly; but, when the door of their house was suddenly flung violently
open some three hours after they had closed their eyes in sleep, and a
voice, hoarse with excitement, yelled: "Fire! Fire! Fire!" they found
themselves out of their bunks and on their feet and wide-awake almost
before the startling cry ceased to echo in the room.

"Where, where is the fire?" they heard Conroyal asking excitedly, as
they hurried into their trousers and heavy boots--they had slept in
their shirts. A moment later came a cry of horror from Ham in reply.

"God in heaven!" he yelled. "It's Dickson's! Th' Leetle Woman!" and he
plunged madly out through the door, followed by every other man in the
house.

Thure and Bud were close behind the last man. The moment they were
outside their eyes caught the red glow of the fire shining wickedly
through the openings between the pine trees that surrounded Dickson's
little cabin, and raced madly toward it. The distance was not great, not
over twenty rods; and they soon found themselves in front of the burning
house.

Dickson and his wife, half-dressed, were rushing madly about, empty
water-pails in their hands. Already the red flames were leaping through
one of the windows; and, as they looked, a heavy jet of black smoke,
swiftly followed by a long tongue of fire, shot out from the roof above
the flaming window.

"Buckets! Buckets!" yelled Ham. "Form a line tew th' spring an' pass
buckets of water from it tew th' house. Here, you," he cried, as his
eyes caught sight of Thure and Bud, "back tew th' house an' git
everything in it that'll hold water--pails, gold-pans, kettles,
anything--Hurry!"

Thure and Bud turned instantly and sped back to the house, their hearts
thumping with excitement. They knew the value of moments in a case like
this. Thure was a little longer-legged, a little the swifter runner, and
he reached the open door perhaps a rod ahead of Bud and sprang through
it, thinking only of how he could get hold of the kettles and the pails
and the pans in the quickest manner possible.

The room was dimly lighted by a ruddy glow from the coals still burning
in the fireplace; and by this light, Thure, the moment he sprang through
the door, saw a figure start up suddenly from near the bunk where he
slept and turn a pock-marked, face, white with fear, toward him; and
then, as his momentum carried him into the room and before he could lift
a hand in self-defense, he saw the right hand suddenly swing up a heavy
club, as the figure leaped toward him, and--a blinding crash and he knew
no more for the present.

Bud was more fortunate. He saw the figure, saw the blow hurriedly aimed
at him, in time to spring aside; and then, with a yell of rage, for he,
too, had caught sight of the pock-marked face of his assailant, he
hurled himself toward him.

But Pockface had had all of the fight he wanted; for, the instant he
struck at Bud and failed to hit him, he sprang through the door.

Bud, in his mad rush to get at the man, failed to see the body of Thure
sprawled out on the ground at his feet, and, as he sprang after the
fleeing scoundrel, his feet struck the body and pitched him head-first
to the ground, where he lay for an instant, stunned by the fall. When he
jumped to his feet and sprang excitedly to the door, Pockface had
vanished completely into the darkness of the night.

There was no use now of trying to follow him. Besides, there was Thure!
What had happened to him? He--he might be dead! And, with fingers that
trembled with anxiety and dread, Bud hurriedly lit a candle and bent
over Thure, for the moment forgetful of the fire and of everything else
but the condition of his friend.

A great bump on the top of Thure's head showed where the blow had
fallen; but he was breathing, and Bud's experience in such matters
quickly told him that he was only stunned.

On a box in a corner of the room stood a pail, filled with water. Bud
quickly seized this pail, and, in his excitement, dumped its whole
contents directly down on the white face of Thure.

A shiver ran through the still form, then both eyes opened and stared
wildly, blankly around for a moment. Suddenly the blank, wild look left
the eyes, and Thure struggled desperately to get on his feet.

"Did he--did he get the skin map?" he cried excitedly, as Bud endeavored
to quiet him. "I--I left it under my pillow. Hurry! See if it is still
there. Never mind me. I'll be all right in a minute. Hurry and see if
the map is still where I left it," and he pushed Bud impatiently away
from him.

Bud quickly caught up the candle and hurried to the bunk. Both pillows
lay on the floor, where some hurried hand had thrown them, and the
little buckskin bag, with its precious contents, was nowhere in sight.
Bud jerked off all the blankets and held the candle up high; but no
sight of the buckskin bag rewarded his efforts.

"It is gone!" and he turned a despairing face to Thure. "He got the map!
And after all we have gone through!"

"What!" Thure was now on his feet, all the dizziness gone, and rushing
toward the bunk. "The map gone!" and he seized the candle from Bud's
hand, and, holding it so that its light illuminated the whole bunk,
stared wildly down on the rumpled surface of the rude bedtick, which
now, the blankets having been thrown off, showed its entire surface to
the light of the candle. There could be no doubting his own eyes. The
buckskin bag was not there!

"Gone! It is gone!" and Thure staggered back from the bunk, almost as if
he had received a blow. "But," and he straightened up suddenly, his face
white and his eyes sparkling with rage, "he has not had time to go far.
Get your rifle, your pistols," and he sprang to the rack where hung his
rifle and pistols. "We must catch him. Oh, if I could but just get hold
of him!" and, rifle and pistols in hands, he rushed to the door; and not
until the glare of the burning house met his eyes did he come to his
senses sufficiently to see the folly of rushing blindly out into the
darkness of the night and the wildness of the mountains after the
scoundrel who had fled he knew not whither, or to recall the purpose for
which he and Bud had been sent back to the house.

"Mother of men! We are forgetting all about the fire!" and he stopped
abruptly. "Well, it would be useless to try to find him now," and his
eyes glared wrathfully out into the darkness of the night. "The buckets!
Hurry!" and he rushed back into the house.

When, a few minutes later, Thure and Bud, loaded down with kettles,
pails, pans, and even frying-pans, rushed pantingly up to Ham, who stood
at the end of the long line of men, stretching from the house to the
spring, throwing the water, as it was passed to him, with his great
strong arms, on the fire, he turned angrily on them.

"Git tew th' spring," he shouted, "with them kettles and pails, you
young--" Then, catching sight of their white faces, he stopped abruptly.
"What's happened?"

"They've got the map!"

"Burn th' map! Git tew th' spring with them pails an' git busy with th'
water," and, with a violent swing of his huge body, Ham flung a large
gold-pan full of water on top of the flaming roof.

Thure and Bud at once hurried to the spring.

By this time the alarm of fire had raced up and down the gulches and
ravines of Hangtown and men were running from every direction toward the
burning building. Already a hundred or more men were stretched in a long
line from the house to the spring; and down this line buckets and pails
and pans of water were passing as swiftly as strong and willing arms
could send them. The air was filled with the yells and cries of excited
men.

Thure and Bud at once pushed their pails and buckets into service and
promptly joined a new line that was forming.

Fortunately the spring was a large one and the water held out; and, in a
short time, a great shout went up from the house and rushed along the
two lines of bucket men up to the spring and echoed and reëchoed
triumphantly up and down through the rocky gulches and canyons of
Hangtown.

The fire had been conquered; but not until the larger part of the roof
had been burned and the greater part of the interior furnishings
destroyed.

The cause of the fire was a mystery. Mr. and Mrs. Dickson were positive
that it did not come from the fireplace, that, in fact, it had started
in almost the opposite end of the house and nearly directly under their
bunk; for, when the heat and the smoke awoke them, the foot of the bunk
and the lower end of the bed-clothes were already ablaze. Everything
inside the house was too badly burnt to furnish any positive clues; but
it was the opinion of nearly all the excited men that the house had been
set on fire purposely; and, if they could have but laid their hands on
the miscreant, there would have been as speedy a hanging as the one had
been that had given the town its unsavory name.

The moment the excitement of the fire was over, Thure and Bud hastened
to their fathers and hurriedly told them what had happened on their
return to the house and of the disappearance of the map.

The two men at once quietly but quickly gathered the other members of
the company and soon all were back again in the house, with the door
tightly closed.

"Now," and Mr. Conroyal turned to the two boys, "tell us exactly what
happened."

Thure quickly told all that he knew up to the moment the club had
knocked him senseless and exhibited the bump, now as large as a goose
egg, on the top of his head in proof of the story; and then Bud related
his part in the adventure. Both boys were certain that the man they had
seen in the house was Quinley, or Pockface as they continued to call
him.

"An' you say th' skunk got that thar skin map an' gold nugget!" and Ham
sprang excitedly to his feet.

"Yes. I--I left it under my pillow. We found both pillows on the floor;
and the buckskin bag gone. The man was standing near my bunk when I
rushed in, and must have just found it. Oh, if I only could have got
hold of him before he hit me!" and tears of baffled rage filled Thure's
eyes.

"You're sart'in th' bag ain't thar?" and Ham glanced at the dismantled
bunk and the disordered bed-clothes scattered about.

"Look for yourself," and Thure sank down on one of the rude chairs and,
throwing his arms disconsolately on the table, laid his aching head down
on them.

Ham seized a lighted candle and strode over to the bunk, followed by all
the other men. He held the candle over the bunk and his eyes swiftly
searched every inch of the surface of the bedtick.

"Th' yunks are right! Th' bag's not here!" and, with an angry growl, he
seized the offending mattress and hurled it out on the floor.

There was a soft thud, as of something small but heavy striking the
ground of the floor; and then, with a yell that caused Thure to jump
nearly a foot up in the air from his seat at the table, Ham dropped the
candle and caught up something from the floor.

"Hal'lujah! Hurrah! Amen! Here it is!" yelled the excited man, as he
held up where all could see the missing buckskin bag.

In his mad tumble out of the bunk at the alarm of fire, Thure must have
knocked the little bag down between the mattress and the side of the
bunk, whence the rude hands of Ham had dislodged it when he had jerked
the mattress off the bunk; and this, probably, was all that had saved it
from the fingers of Pockface, for the pillows lying on the floor showed
that he had evidently searched underneath them.

There is no need of picturing the rejoicing in that log house for the
next few minutes; but, when all had quieted down and were beginning to
talk sensible again, Rex suddenly jumped to his feet with an exclamation
of horror and rage.

"The curs! The cowards! The murderers!" he cried excitedly.

"What's bitin' you?" demanded Ham in astonishment.

"The fire! Can't you see the curs set Dickson's house on fire on purpose
to get us out of the way?"

"Great guns! If I don't believe you are right!" and Ham leaped to his
feet, his face white with rage. "An' a woman asleep in th' house! They
might have burnt both on 'em tew death! They shore won't stop at nuthin'
tew git that map! An' tew think I had my grip on that red-headed skunk's
shoulder, an' I only knocked him down!" and Ham dropped back on his
seat, muttering wrathfully to himself.

"I reckon Rex has the right of it," and Mr. Conroyal's lips tightened.
"But the devilish cunning of it! They knew that whoever had the buckskin
bag would not be apt to sleep with it on him; and they calculated that
the sudden alarm of fire, coming when all were sound asleep, would so
startle, that, for the moment, even the skin map would be forgotten and
all would rush out to help put out the fire, and give them a chance to
search the house. Cunning, but as devilish as it is cunning! Think of
how they might have burnt Dickson and the Little Woman in their bed! By
the good God, we would be justified in killing either one of them on
sight!" and his rugged face hardened.

"We certainly would," agreed Mr. Randolph emphatically. "They have
forfeited all their rights of manhood. But, I fancy, the cunning devils
won't give us a chance for an open fight. They will always strike from
behind something; but now that we know they are on our trail, we've got
to be on the lookout for them."

"'Pears tew me," and Ham held the buckskin bag up, "that it's this here
thing that needs special guardin'. It's th' map that they are after; an'
they don't 'pear tew be none particular how many or who they kill tew
git it, only so they save their own hides. Now, I reckon, we've got tew
keep an eye on this here map night an' day 'til we gits tew th' Cave of
Gold; an' then, like as not, we'll have tew fight for th' gold. First
off, it 'pears tew me, we otter git some better place tew hide th' map
since them curs seem tew know 'bout th' buckskin bag," and Ham took the
fateful map out of the little bag and spread it out on his knees.

"I know," and, in his excitement, Thure jumped to his feet and caught up
the map. "I know a good way to hide the map, and, maybe, fool them.
We'll leave the gold nugget in the bag, and I'll sew the skin map on the
inside of my shirt bosom. Then, if they should somehow get hold of the
buckskin bag, they'd only get the gold nugget; but, to get the map,
they'd have to get me; and, I reckon, dad and the rest of you are able
to keep them from doing that!"

"That sounds sensible," declared Ham. "Thure'll always have his shirt on
his back night an' day; an' so we'll jest have tew keep an eye on Thure.
I reckon that idee is 'bout as good as any we can think of--only, we
must be powerful careful tew keep it secret an' tew never let th' yunk
git out of our sight for an instant."

After a little discussion all agreed that Thure's plan was a good one;
and, accordingly, Thure at once took off his shirt and carefully and
smoothly sewed the skin map on the inside of its bosom, the face of the
map toward the cloth; and then, over all, he sewed another piece of
cloth, so that the map was completely hidden between the two folds of
cloth.

"There," he said, as he pulled the shirt back on his body, "I'd like to
see Pockface or Brokennose get the map now, without getting me; and, I
reckon, you fellers will see that they have their hands full if they
tackle that job," and his eyes glanced proudly around the little circle
of men, who had gathered close about him while he was performing his
interesting little feat in sewing.

And Thure had good reasons for his pride and confidence in his comrades;
for his father and Frank Holt, his uncle, and Hammer Jones and Rex and
Dill and Mr. Randolph were all old trappers and hunters and Indian
fighters, who had been tried by every form of peril and had never been
found wanting. Indeed, the names of Hammer Jones and Noel Conroyal and
Steeltrap Smith, as Frank Holt was once called, were still famous
throughout all the Rocky Mountain region, for the deeds of daring and
skill that had made them comrades in fame, as they often had been in
fact, with trappers and Indian fighters like Kit Carson and Jim Bridger
and Old Bill Williams and half-a-dozen other fearless men, whose courage
and pluck and wonderful skill had made their names known wherever a
campfire blazed throughout all the great West. Yes, Thure had good
reasons to believe that Brokennose and Pockface, cunning as they were,
would certainly have their hands full, if they got the skin map away
from him, while he was watched by such men as these.

"They'll have tew git all of us afore they git you, son," declared Ham,
in reply to Thure's assertion. "Now," and he stretched his big frame and
yawned, "seein' that we've 'tended tew all th' business that needs
'tendin' tew tew-night, we'd better try an' git a leetle more sleep
afore mornin'. Leastwise I'm a-goin' tew," and, after a glance through
the window to assure himself that everything was all safe and quiet
around the Dickson house, he slipped a loaded pistol under his pillow
and climbed into his bunk.

Ham's advice, as usual, was too good to be neglected, and soon all were
in their bunks. But, just before each had climbed into his bunk, he,
like Ham, had slipped a loaded pistol under his pillow. They were not
the kind of men to go unprepared when danger threatened.

CHAPTER XVIII

STORY OF THE GREAT DISCOVERY

A cheery call from Mr. and Mrs. Dickson greeted our friends the next
morning, as they started down the trail on their way to the wing dam.
Both were in the best of spirits and did not appear to be bothering
their heads in the least over their rather exciting and unfortunate
adventure of the night before. Indeed, what could the burning of a log
cabin more or less matter to a man who was digging out of the ground
from five to ten thousand dollars' worth of gold a day! They were busily
at work putting on a temporary roof in place of the one the fire had
destroyed.

"Lose much?" queried Ham sympathetically, as the little company came to
a halt in front of the ruins.

"Only a little worn-out clothing and some mighty poor furniture,"
laughed Dickson. "Mollie and I calculate we can fix up the roof by noon
good enough to last the few days we are likely to remain here; and the
time it takes us to do that is our only real loss. You see, we've
decided, if we get as much as twenty thousand dollars' worth of gold out
of that hole, we'll get for New York as fast as the good Lord will let
us; and it looks now as if it was good for that much, at least, before
it gives out. Why, it won't take more than a couple of days more to fix
us all right, if the gold continues to turn up the way it did yesterday!
Hope it will be your turn next."

"Same here," laughed Mrs. Dickson. "My, but it does seem good to be
digging real gold up out of the ground in handfuls. Hope that wing dam,
or whatever you call it, will be the golden key that will unlock the
door of fortune to you all."

"We all shore agrees with you thar," grinned Ham. "An' we all hopes that
y'ur luck will continue, 'til you gits enough tew send you back home in
fine style--not that we're none anxious tew see you go," he added
hastily, "'cause 'twould be 'bout as painful an operation as bein'
seperated from a sore tooth, to be seperated from that singin' apperatus
of your'n. We'll be expectin' you tew come over an' sing some more for
us tew-night."

"I certainly can't refuse, after such a compliment to my singing," she
laughed back.

"It almost tempts me tew try hitchin' up myself, tew see them tew
a-workin' tewgether as happy as tew nestin' birds," grinned Ham, as our
friends, after a few minutes' longer talk with the joyful and fortunate
couple, continued on their way. "I reckon that's 'bout th' kind of
marriage th' feller meant, when he said they was made in heaven; for th'
t'other kind 'pear tew be made in t'other place," and Ham chuckled.

That day they succeeded in building a wall of rocks, piled one on top of
the other and plastered together with clay and the branches of trees,
across the little stream itself and almost high enough to force the
water to flow in the new channel. Consequently night found them
jubilant; for now it began to look as if they might complete the dam on
the morrow, and this was doing better by a day or two than they had
expected to do.

"I reckon we had better bring along the pails and the pans to-morrow,"
Mr. Conroyal said, as he paused with Ham and Mr. Randolph for a last
calculating look at the dam, before starting for the log house that
night. "Looks now as if we might complete the dam and turn the water a
little before night; and, if we do, we will want to get right to work at
the hole. It sure looks as if we had struck a good thing here, boys,"
and his face lighted, as his eyes turned toward the elbow. "If this
stream has been carrying down gold the way some of the streams have in
this section, we'll have Dickson beat by a wagon load or two of gold a
day. I can't see how it can help turning out something big," and the
gold-fever light that shone in his eyes began to sparkle in the eyes of
the others.

"It shore otter turn out big tew pay us for all this work," and Ham's
glance slowly wandered over the huge piles of rocks and dirt that their
shovels and strong arms had reared, "but thar's no countin' on what
it'll do. 'Twouldn't s'prise me none, if we took out a wagon load of
gold; an', ag'in, 'twouldn't s'prise me none, if we didn't take out a
thimble load. Gold is 'bout as unsart'in an' queer as women. When you
think you've got it shore, gosh, it ain't thar at all! But, I reckon
you're right 'bout th' pans an' pails; an' I shore hopes you're right
'bout th' wagon loads of gold."

After supper that night Mr. and Mrs. Dickson came over and joined the
circle around the big camp-fire that Thure and Bud had kindled in front
of the log house. There was no need to be saving of wood, when all one
had to do to get it was to cut it. Wood was the one thing that was free
and plentiful in Hangtown.

"How did she pan out tew-day, Dick?" queried Ham, as Dickson seated
himself on a log.

"Well," and Dickson hesitated and glanced swiftly and just a little
suspiciously around the circle of faces. Already the possession of much
gold was robbing him of some of his open, free-hearted confidence in his
fellow men, was drawing tight the strings of caution. "Well," he
continued, after a swift warning glance into the face of his wife, "I
fear that we have about come to the bottom of the pocket. Not much doing
to-day," but the light in his eyes seemed to belie his statement.

"Oh, Dick," and Mrs. Dickson turned a reproving face to her husband,
"how can you say that, when we found this, and a lot of smaller nuggets,
and a good three thousand dollars' worth in gold-dust besides!" and she
held up before the astonished eyes of the circle a huge gold nugget. "It
weighs exactly five pounds and three and three-quarters ounces, and is
worth over a thousand dollars," and the Little Woman's face glowed with
triumph. "There," and she turned a pair of happy but defiant eyes on her
husband, "I just couldn't keep a thing like that to myself; and I
shouldn't want to, if I could; and I told Dick that I couldn't and I
wouldn't keep it from you and I didn't," and her eyes sparkled merrily.
"But Dick is getting a little afraid that, if it becomes known how big
our find really is it might tempt some scoundrel to try and get the gold
away from us."

"Not meaning you fellows, of course," and Dickson's face flushed.

"Shore, we understand an' without any explainin'," broke in Ham
heartily. "An', Leetle Woman, Dick's more'n half right 'bout bein' some
cautious who you tells y'ur good luck tew. Thar was a miner murdered for
his gold 'bout a week ago nigh Sacremento City; an' th' murderers worn't
caught an' might be a-snoopin' 'round Hangtown right now."

"Mercy!" and Mrs. Dickson turned a whitening face to Ham. "Why, there is
hardly a lock on a door in all Hangtown; and most of the miners don't
even take the trouble to hide their gold-dust securely. I thought
everybody knew that the climate of Hangtown wasn't good for the health
of robbers."

"An' so it ain't for them that gits caught," answered Ham. "But humans
will risk anything, even their lives for gold. Why, it wasn't more'n a
week ago that we run Skoonly out of town for stealin'! So, I reckon,
'tain't more'n good hoss-sense for you tew be some cautious now that you
are gittin' a fortune in gold. Not that thar's any harm in a-tellin' old
friends like us, 'cause we knows enough tew keep mum 'bout it," and Ham
glanced warningly around the circle of interested faces. "But 'twouldn't
be good sense tew let th' hull town know th' size of y'ur pile. It's tew
goll durned big an' temptin'. Not that I wants tew scare you, Leetle
Woman. Only it's jest good hoss-religion not tew tempt y'ur feller
mortals more'n it's necessary. Now forgit th' gold an' give us a song."

Ham had not been without his reasons in thus trying to arouse the fears
of Mr. and Mrs. Dickson and in warning the others to keep their
knowledge of the amount of Dickson's find to themselves; for, since the
night adventure of Thure and Bud, he knew that Quinley and Ugger must be
lurking somewhere in the vicinity, and that, if these two scoundrels
should get knowledge of Dickson's great luck, neither their gold nor
their lives would be safe.

Mrs. Dickson sang a number of the old songs, including Ham's favorite,
"Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt"; but her music lacked something of its usual
soul-fervor. Evidently the words of Ham had so aroused her fears that
she could not keep her mind from wandering to the little pile of gold
they had left almost unguarded in their lockless log cabin; and, in a
short time, both excused themselves on the plea of weariness, and
hurried home.

"Tew bad tew scare th' Leetle Woman," Ham said regretfully; "but 'twould
be a heap worse tew have Quinley an' Ugger git that thar gold. I got
scart of them jest as soon as th' Leetle Woman showed up th' big nugget;
for they must be a-lurkin' 'round here somewhere, keepin' an eye on us;
an', if they heer'd of Dickson's gold, they shore would try an' git it.
Wal, we'd better follow their example an' git tew bed; for we've got a
hard day's work afore us, if we finish th' wing dam an' turn th' water
tew-morrer. I'm goin'," and Ham, knocking the ashes out of his pipe on
the log on which he was sitting, arose and went into the house, whither
he was soon followed by the others.

The next day as Thure and Bud were sitting in the shade of the cool side
of the gulch, a little apart from the others, eating their lunch and
discussing the great find they expected to make when they turned the
water of the little stream into the new channel, Thure, whose eyes
happened to be looking down the gulch at that moment, suddenly
exclaimed:

"Hello, look who's coming!" and he pointed down the gulch to where a man
could be seen walking slowly toward them, a pick and shovel and gold-pan
slung across his broad shoulders, a Mexican sombrero on his head and the
rest of his body clothed in a blue flannel shirt and linen trousers that
had once been white, protected by deerskin leggings and thrust into the
tops of knee-boots.

"Out prospecting, I reckon," and Bud glanced curiously at the advancing
stranger, for visitors had been rare in that lonely gulch. "Let's ask
him to dine with us," and he smiled as he glanced at the coarse but
abundant fare spread out on the ground between them. "He must be hungry,
if he has lugged those things on his back far. Hello!" and he turned to
the stranger, who by this time had come to within a couple of rods of
where the two boys sat, "You are just in time to help us finish up these
beans and pork. Come and have a seat at our table," and he grinned a
welcome, as he nodded toward the food.

"I don't care if I do," smiled back the stranger, as he flung pick and
shovel and pan from his back and dropped down by the side of the boys,
"especially since I've got a little jerked venison here that I know will
taste good to you, if you've been living on salt pork as long as the
most of the miners have," and he began to undo a little bundle tied to
the end of his pick, and presently disclosed a chunk of dried venison
and a couple of ship-biscuits, wrapped up in a coarse but clean cloth.
This food he at once laid down on the cloth, which he had spread out on
Bud's table, and bade the boys help themselves, at the same time and
without any further invitation helping himself to the beans and pork.

"Wait, and I'll get you a cup of hot coffee," and Bud jumped to his feet
and hurried to where Ham was superintending the boiling of a pot of
coffee over the camp-fire.

"Say, dew you know who that feller is who has j'ined grub with you?"
queried Ham, grinning, as he filled a tin cup full of the coffee and
handed it to Bud.

"Oh, just a miner out prospecting, I reckon," answered Bud, as he took
the coffee. "We thought we would be social and asked him to share our
meal," and he started back with the coffee.

"Wal," and the grin on Ham's face broadened, "that feller is James W.
Marshall!"

"What!" and Bud stopped so suddenly that he almost spilt the coffee.
"Not the James W. Marshall who discovered the first gold in California!"

"Th' identicle cuss," laughed Ham. "But 'tain't done him much good so
far."

"Glory be, we just thought he was an ordinary prospector, when we asked
him to share our lunch! And so he is the man that started all this mad
rush for California gold," and Bud's eyes turned curiously in the
direction of the stranger. "Well, he sure don't look as if the gold had
done him much good."

"That's usually th' way on it," replied Ham. "Th' feller what finds it
only gits th' first smell, then 'long comes some other feller an'
gobbles it all up, leavin' th' finder nuthin' but th' glory."

"Maybe we can get him to tell us the story of how he found the gold,"
and Bud's face lighted up. "I'd like to hear it from his own lips."

"Wal," grinned Ham, "jest tell him that he's 'bout th' most abused man
in all Californy, an', I reckon, he'll open his heart tew you. He's
pow'ful sore over everybudy else but he a-gettin' th' gold, an' he th'
discoverer."

"Maybe the hot coffee will do as well," laughed Bud, as he hurried back
to his guest.

The hot coffee, possibly even more the contagion of the joyous
enthusiasm of the two youths, did, indeed, seem to act like a charm on
Marshall's taciturn and soured disposition; for, before the meal was
half over, he was talking freely of his mining ventures with Thure and
Bud; and it needed but a few well-directed inquiries to bring the
desired story from his willing lips.

"How did I happen to discover the gold?" he began, as if the boys had
asked him directly for the story, which they had not. "Well, it all came
about in this way," and he settled himself into a comfortable position.
"In May, 1847, Captain Sutter sent me up the American River to look for
a good site for a sawmill that he wished me to build for him; and, after
a number of days of fruitless search, I found what looked like the exact
spot I was hunting for on the South Fork of the American about
forty-five miles from Sutter's Fort. Captain Sutter, you may be sure,
was well pleased when I told him of my success; and we entered into a
partnership, according to which I was to build the mill and he was to
find provisions, tools, teams, and pay a part of the men's wages; and in
August, everything being ready, I started out with six men and two
wagons loaded with the tools and provisions. We first put up log houses
in which to live; for we expected to remain there all winter. But this
was done in no time for the men were great with the ax. Then we cut
timber and fell to work hewing it for the framework of the mill and to
building the dam, which, with the help of about forty Indians, who had
gathered around us in great numbers, we put up in a kind of a way in
four weeks. When the mill was nearly completed, it was my custom every
evening after the men had quit work to raise the gate in the mill-race
and allow the water to run all night, in order to wash as much sand and
gravel as possible out of the race during the night; and in the morning,
while the men were getting breakfast, I would go down and shut the gate
and walk along the race to see where the work needed to be done for the
day.

"One clear cold morning in January--I shall never forget that morning. I
can see it all as I sit here--the nearly completed mill, the slopes of
the surrounding tree-covered hills, the water pouring over the dam, the
mill-race, a foot or so of water still rushing along over its bottom--I
can see it all--"

Marshall paused, his eyes staring straight in front of him, a peculiar,
dreamy, wild look in them that sent uncanny chills to the hearts of both
boys as long as it lasted. What was he seeing? Visions?--Visions of what
that morning meant to a gold-mad world?

"No, I can never forget that January morning," Marshall resumed, after
perhaps a minute, the normal look again coming back into his eyes; "for
on that morning I found the gold that has set the world crazy and proven
little more than a curse to me," and a gloomy bitter look clouded his
face.

"On that morning, as usual, after having shut off the water, I started
to walk along the race, keeping my eyes pretty close to the ground, so
as to make a note of where the ditch needed more digging. There was
still about a foot of water running in the race. Suddenly my eyes caught
a glimpse of something shining through the water, just a bright little
gleam of yellow lying on the bottom of the ditch; but the first sight of
it made my heart jump, for I thought it might be gold; and I reached my
hand down quick through the water and picked it up and examined it
eagerly. The piece was about half the size, and of the shape of a pea;
and felt and looked like gold, only it did not seem to me to be exactly
the right color: all the gold coin I had seen was of a reddish tinge;
this looked more like brass. I looked again in the water and saw another
piece and picked that up. Then I sat down on the bank, with the little
pieces of shining metal on the palm of my hand, and began to think right
hard. Was it gold? I recalled to mind all the metals I had ever seen or
heard of, but I couldn't seem to think of any that looked like this,
that is, that looked enough like it to make me certain of what it was.
Suddenly the thought came to me that this was probably nothing but iron
pyrites, or fool's gold, that I had heard and read of, but had never
seen. I trembled at the thought; for by now I had become considerably
excited over the possibility of its being gold. But iron pyrites would
break when pounded! I jumped to my feet, getting more excited every
minute; and quickly found a couple of hard river stones, and, putting
the pieces on one, I pounded them with the other. It was soft, and
didn't break! It must be gold; but was probably largely mixed with some
other metal, possibly silver, for I thought that pure gold certainly
would have a brighter color.

"I don't know just how long I sat there, looking at them two little bits
of yellow metal in my hand and thinking hard of all that it might mean
to me and the men with me, if it should really prove to be gold, for I
sure was some excited; but, when I got back to our cabin, the men had
finished their breakfast and were beginning to wonder a little what had
become of me. I showed them the two pieces, and told them where I had
found them, and that I thought they were gold. This excited the men a
good deal; and I had some trouble to keep them from dropping everything
and going to gold hunting, leaving me finish my job alone. However, I
told them that as soon as we had the mill finished we would give a week
or two to gold hunting and see what we could make out of it, and this
satisfied them for the time, none of them then dreaming there was enough
gold there to amount to much.

"After this, while at work in the race, we all kept a sharp lookout, and
in the course of three or four days we had picked up about three ounces,
our work going on the same as usual; for none of us at that time
imagined that the whole country was sown with gold. If we had--that mill
sure would never have been completed," and Marshall smiled a little
bitterly.

"Four or five days after I picked up those two little pieces of yellow
metal I had to go to Sutter's Fort; and, wishing to get all the
information I could respecting the real value of the metal, I took all
that we had collected with me, and showed it to Captain Sutter. He at
once declared that it was gold; but, like me, thought it was largely
mixed with some other metal. We now tried to hit upon some means of
telling the exact quantity of gold found in the alloy; but couldn't
figure out how to do it, until we stumbled upon an old American
cyclopedia, that gave the specific gravity of all the metals and rules
to find the quantity of each in a given bulk. We now wanted some silver,
with which to compare our metal; and, after hunting over the whole fort
and borrowing from some of the men, we managed to get three dollars and
a half in silver. Captain Sutter had a small pair of scales; and, with
the aid of these and the cyclopedia, we soon ciphered it out that there
was neither silver nor copper in the gold, but that it was entirely
pure.

"This proof that the metal was real gold excited both of us
considerable; but, when we had cooled down a little and talked it over,
we concluded it would be our best policy to keep it as quiet as possible
until the mill was completed. Now, at this time, there was a great
number of disbanded Mormon soldiers in and about the fort, and, somehow,
they came to hear of it; and then the golden cat was out of the bag, for
the news that gold had been discovered just spread over the whole
country like wild-fire. Indeed, I had hardly got back to the mill,
before men with picks and pans and shovels and hoes and all sorts of
tools began coming in, all anxious to fall to work and dig up our mill
by the roots; but this, of course, we would not allow, although I
sometimes had the greatest trouble to get rid of them. I sent them all
off in different directions, telling them of such and such places where
I felt certain they would find gold, if they would only take the trouble
to dig for it. Not that I really thought they would find any gold, for
at that time I never imagined the gold was so abundant; but they would
dig nowhere but in such places as I pointed out and I had to get rid of
them someway. I believe if I had told them to dig on top of a mountain,
that, so great was their confidence in me, they would have climbed to
the top of the mountain and began picking away at the rocks," and
something, almost a twinkle, came into Marshall's eyes, brightening
their somber lights.

"And did the parties you scattered through the country find any gold?"
inquired Thure eagerly.

"Yes, many of them did, to my surprise," answered Marshall; "but the
second real discovery of gold was in a gulch on the road to Sacramento.
The third gold discovery was made on a bar of the South Fork of the
American River a little above the junction of the Middle and South
forks. The diggings over there where Hangtown is," and he flung up one
of his arms in the direction of Hangtown, "was discovered by myself; for
we all went gold hunting, as soon as the mill was finished. Some Indians
found the diggings down at Kelsey's; and thus in a short time we
discovered that the whole country hereabouts is sown with gold, thick in
spots but thin and scattering almost all over. Now that is the true
story of the gold discovery in California, right from the lips of the
man who picked up the first piece of gold, and who has had more cheating
and robbing than thanks from the men the discovery has helped most," and
the somber light deepened in the eyes of the disappointed and soured
man, who always laid the blame of the misfortunes that seemed to follow
him after the great discovery on the ingratitude of his fellow men,
rather than on his own inability to use the opportunities that a kindly
fate had thrust in his way.

"Well, it sure does seem hard," sympathized Bud, "that you, who
discovered the gold, should be able to get so little of it. But," and
his face brightened, "your luck may change to-morrow, and you may yet
live to see yourself one of the richest men in California."

Here the huge form of Hammer Jones broke in on the three.

"How d'dew, Jim," and Ham reached down a big hand and gripped the hand
of Marshall. "Ben tellin' th' yunks all 'bout th' Great Discovery, I
reckon?" and he grinned. "Wal, if you'll jest sot down an' make y'urself
easy for 'bout three hours, 'til we puts the finishin' touches on this
here dam, I shouldn't be none s'prised if we was able tew show you
somethin' of a discovery ourselves," and Ham pointed to the now nearly
completed dam.

Marshall at once became greatly interested, when Ham had explained to
him what they hoped the dam would do for them; and not only agreed to
wait until the completion of the dam, but to help in its completion;
and, in a few minutes more, all were again at work, spurred to
extraordinary exertions by the thought that a few short hours more would
tell the story of their success or failure.

CHAPTER XIX

SOME EXCITING MOMENTS

Exactly at three o'clock, by Mr. Conroyal's big silver watch, the last
shovel of dirt and the last stone was thrown on the dam; and, with
cheers that echoed and reëchoed up and down the narrow gulch, our
friends saw all the water of the little stream flowing into its new
channel.

"Now get your pans and pails, and we'll hustle the water out of the
hole, so that we can get at the dirt," Mr. Conroyal cried excitedly, the
moment it was seen that the dam was working perfectly and that the old
bed of the stream below the dam was fast becoming dry.

With another cheer, each grabbed up a pan or a pail, and all made a rush
for the hole in the elbow of the now nearly drained bed of the stream,
acting more like an excited troop of school boys than gray-haired and
long-bearded men, as some of them were.

The old bed of the stream was solid rock, worn smooth by the action of
the water; and, as Thure and Bud, in their anxiety to be the first to
reach the hole, raced down this, Thure's feet suddenly slipped on the
wet rock and down he went, the gold-pan he was carrying flying from his
hands and banging loudly as it slid for a short distance over the hard
rock. He jumped quickly to his feet, fortunately unhurt, and bent
hastily to pick up the pan. As he lifted the pan, which had been stopped
by a bit of rock that projected a couple of inches above the level of
the bed, his eyes caught a bright gleam that came from the upper side of
the projecting rock.

For an instant Thure stared wildly at the shining bit of metal lodged
against the rock; and then, with a yell that brought everybody to a
halt, he dropped the pan and grabbed the bit of metal.

"Gold! Gold!" he shouted excitedly, as he held up between the thumb and
finger of his right hand the bit of metal he had picked up, which was
about the size and something the shape of his thumb.

In a moment all were crowded around him, eagerly examining the nugget.

"It certainly is gold!" declared Marshall, as he hefted the nugget on
the palm of his hand.

"Hurra, that's a durned good sign that that thar hole is chuck full of
it!" cried Ham, excitedly swinging the gold-pan he held in his hand
around his head. "Come on! Let's git that water out of th' way an' down
tew pay-dirt, jest as quick as th' Lord'll let us," and he started on
the run for the hole, followed by all the others.

The hole in the point of the elbow of the old channel of the stream was
about twenty feet across; and now, of course, was level full of water,
which had to be thrown out before any digging could be done.

Ham, who had a long pair of rubber boots, bought on purpose for this
occasion, now slipped them on his feet, pulled the legs up to his waist,
where he fastened them to his belt, seized one of the pails, and stepped
into the hole. At the first step he went down to the knee, at the
second, nearly to the tops of his rubber boots, but the third step
lowered him in the water only a couple of inches.

"Gosh, 'tain't deep! We can have th' water out of here in no time. Now,
jest git in line an' I'll pass th' water out tew you," and he plunged
the pail down into the water, and quickly passed it to the man standing
the nearest to him, who passed it on down a line that had been quickly
formed until the last man was far enough down for the water, when thrown
on the ground, to run off down the old channel.

There were enough pans and pails to keep a constant stream of them
passing up and down the line; and, as everybody, under the spur of the
thought of what might lie hidden there in that hole, worked with
feverish haste, the water was speedily lowered, until after an hour of
as hard and tiresome work as was ever done by men, the bottom of the
hole was laid bare.

"We'll dig a hole first off right in th' center of th' hole plumb down
to bed-rock," declared Ham, as he passed out the last pailful of water.
"Then, if thar's any gold here, we'll strike it shore. Throw me a
shovel!" Ham's face was flushed and his eyes were sparkling with
excitement; for now the great moment was near, the moment that would
tell whether or not all their labor had been in vain, whether or not
they were to find the expected gold.

"Here! Here!" and Thure caught up a shovel and rushed to Ham; and almost
collided with Bud, who, shovel in hand, was also rushing to Ham.

"Let us help you dig! Let us help you dig!" cried both boys, almost
beside themselves with excitement.

"Now, jest hold y'ur hosses an' git out of here. This is men's work,"
and Ham good-naturedly thrust the two boys aside, caught up a shovel,
and began throwing up the moist sand and gravel like an animated steam
shovel.

The hole was partly filled with coarse sand and gravel; and, since gold
is so heavy that it will sink down through sand and gravel until it
comes to something more solid, all this had to be thrown off before they
could hope to come to pay-dirt, which is usually a thin layer of gravel
or clay lying on top of the bed-rock. Ham was now digging down to this
bed-rock; and, when he reached it, he would throw a few shovels of the
dirt directly on its top into a gold-pan, and then a few minutes'
washing of the dirt in the pan would show whether or not they had struck
gold. The hole he was digging was not large enough for more than one man
to work in it at a time, consequently the others formed a circle around
Ham and watched his progress with faces feverish with excitement, any
one of them ready the moment Ham tired to seize a shovel and jump into
the hole in his place. But the shoveling was not hard and the sturdy
muscles of Ham did not tire.

In the excitement of these thrilling minutes nobody saw anything but
Ham, nobody heard anything but the push of his shovel through the moist
gravel and the thud of the dirt as it fell on top of the ground. It is
doubtful if a cannon fired within a rod of them, would have made one of
them jump. Hence it is not to be wondered at that none of them saw the
black clouds gathering about the tops of the mountains to the northeast
and swiftly sweeping down toward them, nor heard the peals of distant
thunder, sounding louder and nearer with the passing of each minute. The
gold-fever was hot in their blood; and they were deaf and blind to all
but the digging man.

Ham's shovel bit swiftly down into the soft, moist sand. Now he is down
to his waist. Now only his shoulders show above the top of the hole.
Suddenly, with a violent grunt, he straightens up.

"Bed-rock!" he yells, and begins digging again.

The excitement is now intense. Nearly every one has a gold-pan in his
hand, and is holding it out toward Ham, ready to receive the first
shovel of pay-dirt. That first shovel of dirt means so much, possibly a
fortune for all! Even the graybeards, Mr. Conroyal and Rad Randolph and
Frank Holt, men who could, who often had faced death without the quiver
of a muscle, are now all of a tremble with excitement. Thure and Bud are
both bending forward so far that there is danger of their tumbling into
the hole on top of Ham.

For a couple of minutes longer Ham shovels out the dirt, but more slowly
and carefully now.

"Give me a pan," and he suddenly straightens up, seizes one of the pans,
and disappears in the hole. A moment later he jumps out of the hole, the
pan nearly filled with dirt in his hands, and races like a mad man with
it to the little stream of water, followed by all the others.

In the excitement of the moment no one notices how dark it is becoming,
nor hears an ominous sound, a distant roar, each second growing louder,
and coming from far up the gulch.

Ham reaches the water, and, plunging the pan down into it, begins
carefully stirring its contents with his big fingers. Around him bend
the others, regardless of wet feet. In a few minutes the larger part of
the sand and the gravel is washed out of the pan by the water. Now only
a thin layer of black sand remains on the bottom of the pan. The crucial
instant has come. Ham slowly straightens up, carefully pours all the
water out of the pan, bends his head down close over it, and begins
moving the thin layer of black sand about with his fingers.

"Is there, is there any gold?" queries Thure, unable longer to keep
silent.

Ham does not answer for a moment, but continues to stir the sand with
his big fingers, bending his head still closer to the pan.

"Not a durned smell!" and he suddenly hurls the pan violently from him.

At this moment Mr. Conroyal utters a startled exclamation and glances
quickly up the gulch. One look is sufficient to turn his face white.
From where he stands he can see straight up the gulch for nearly half a
mile; and half that distance up the gulch he sees a dark gray wall, ten
feet high, topped with white, rushing down toward him with the speed of
a race horse, and hears a roar like the rushing charge of a thousand
cavalrymen.

"My God, a flood!" he yells. "Climb for your lives!"

There was no need of a second warning. All could now see the advancing
flood, could hear the deafening roar, could feel the solid earth
beginning to tremble beneath their feet; and all began to climb for
their lives up the steep side of the gulch. There was no time to stop to
pick up anything. Pans, shovels, picks, and such parts of their clothes
as happened to be off their bodies they left where they lay.

Thure and Bud happened to be climbing almost directly under Marshall.
Suddenly, before they were above the danger line and when the flood was
almost upon them, Marshall's feet slipped and he slid past the boys down
directly in front of the advancing flood. It looked like death to stop
to help him; but neither boy hesitated an instant.

"Here, grip wrists!" yelled Thure, who was a little above Bud. "I will
hold you while you pull Marshall up."

Bud instantly saw what was wanted; and, in another moment the two arms
of the boys were locked together in a grip almost impossible to break.

"Now reach down and try and get hold of one of Marshall's hands. Quick!"
and Thure gripped, with the strength of desperation, the point of a
projecting rock with his free left hand and planted his feet firmly on
the narrow ledge where he stood.

"Here, catch hold of my hand, quick," and Bud bent and stretched his
free hand down to Marshall, who, with a face as white as death, was
vainly struggling to climb up the almost perpendicular side of the rock
down which he had slid.

[Illustration: BUD BENT AND STRETCHED HIS FREE HAND DOWN TO MARSHALL.]

Marshall saw the hand and caught it, as a drowning man would grasp a
beam of wood floating within his reach.

There was a terrible wrench on the arms and bodies of the two boys, but
neither broke his hold; and, with a tremendous pull, Marshall was jerked
up on the ledge of rock on which they were standing, and, in another
moment the three had climbed to safety, just as the flood swept by them,
so close that they were covered with the foam that rode on its top.

For a minute the three stood panting and trembling where they were; and
then they climbed to the broad ledge where all had halted out of reach
of the flood.

Mr. Conroyal gripped Thure's hand and held it warmly for a minute; but
he did not speak a word. There was no need; for Thure understood.

Mr. Randolph was a little more demonstrative, but he said little.

The two boys had done exactly what the two men expected their sons to
do; and the hearts of both were glad and proud, but neither man showed
his pride in their brave action, only his joy that they had escaped the
flood.

Marshall, the moment their fathers dropped their hands, seized a hand of
each boy in each of his hands and started to thank them, with tears in
his eyes; but both boys quickly jerked their hands away.

"Forget it," Thure said impatiently. "We only did what you or any other
man would have done under the same circumstances--Great Moses, just look
at that water!" and Thure's eyes turned to the flood that was now
foaming and boiling a few feet beneath them.

At this moment the edge of the black clouds swept over them, and the
rain fell down in torrents; but in a quarter of an hour the clouds had
passed, and the sun was shining again, and the violence of the flood was
beginning to slacken. In half an hour the flood had swept by; and with
it had gone every vestige of the wing dam they had builded with so much
labor and with so many high hopes.

"Durn th' durned dam!" and, without another word, Ham turned his back on
the scene of their fruitless labors, and strode off toward Hangtown,
followed by all the others, who fervently echoed his words in their
hearts.

CHAPTER XX

ROBBED

"Now I'll say good-by to you men," Marshall said, when they reached the
outskirts of Hangtown. "I am real sorry that your venture turned out the
way that it did; but a man has got to expect any sort of luck in the
diggings, and usually it is the worst sort that he gets dealt out to
him, at least that has been my experience," and he smiled bitterly.

Marshall now stood for a moment, irresolutely, his eyes fixed on Thure
and Bud; and then, suddenly, he thrust one of his hands deep into his
trousers pocket and drew out a little roll of buckskin, carefully folded
and tied. This little packet he at once untied and unrolled and brought
to light two small gold nuggets. With one of these in either hand he now
approached Thure and Bud.

"My young friends," he said, "I do not know as the life you saved is of
much value; but still I prize it, being the only life I have; and I want
to show you that I appreciate the quickness and the bravery of your
action, and to leave with you some memento of the deed and of the man
you saved from a horrible death. I am poor, others have grown rich off
my misfortunes--" Again that bitter look of mingled discontent and
useless rebellion swept over his face--"but I still have left these two
little nuggets of gold, the very two pieces of gold that I picked up
from the mill-race on that cold January morning, the first two nuggets
of gold found in California! I prize them above everything else that I
possess; and, because they are so dear to me, I now most willingly give
them to you, to keep in memory of this day and of the unfortunate man
whose life you saved," and he handed one of the nuggets to Thure and the
other to Bud. "Keep them carefully. They will be valuable mementos some
day, Good-by," and without another word or waiting for a reply, he
whirled about and walked swiftly away.

Thure and Bud both ran after him, and told him that, although they would
prize the nuggets above anything else he could give them, they did not
wish to take them from him, the one who first picked them up, that they
belonged to him, that he ought to keep them; but Marshall would not
listen to them, would not take the nuggets back, would not even stop to
hear the boys' thanks, and strode on down the trail to where the lights
of Hangtown were beginning to twinkle through the gathering shadows of
night.

In after years these two little gold nuggets became the most valued
treasures in the possession of the families of our young heroes; and
their grandchildren still cherish them among their most prized
heirlooms.

"I reckon thar's somethin' jest a leetle out of kilter in th' top of
Marshall's head," Ham commented, as he watched the man hurrying down the
trail. "He's smart enough when it comes tew th' use of tools; but
outside of them 'bout everything that he touches 'pears tew go wrong
with him, an' ginerally it goes wrong because of th' fool way he tackles
it, though he lays his bad luck all on th' ingratertude of his feller
mortals."

Thure and Bud very carefully stowed away the two nuggets in their
pockets, and hurried on after their companions, who were hurrying up the
trail leading to the log house.

As they passed the Dickson log cabin Mr. and Mrs. Dickson both came out.
Mrs. Dickson's eyes were red from crying, and the face of Dickson was
white and set, with a look of despair in his eyes not good to see.

"Hello! What has happened?" and Mr. Conroyal, who was in the lead,
stopped suddenly and stared in astonishment at the woe-begone faces of
the erstwhile happy couple.

"Robbed," Dickson answered sententiously. "Robbed and the mine has
played out."

"Yes, robbed of all but about fifty dollars' worth of gold-dust that we
took out this afternoon before the mine gave out," and Mrs. Dickson's
voice trembled. "And not a thing to tell us who did the robbing. Robbed
of a good forty thousand dollors' worth of gold-dust! Enough to have
taken us both back to New York state and enabled us to have lived the
rest of our lives in comfort," and Mrs. Dickson's voice broke into sobs.

"Robbed! Robbed of all your gold!" and our friends gather around them in
great excitement and indignation.

"When?"

"How?"

"Who did it?"

"Sometime this afternoon," answered Mr. Dickson, "as near as we can
figure it out just a little before the storm. But all that we really
know is, that, when we went to get the gold to-night, it was gone, and
without a sign left to tell who had taken it."

"And we had it so well hidden," mourned Mrs. Dickson, "under a stone in
the fireplace. And then to think that the mine should give out at the
same time!" and again she burst into tears.

"Wal, it shore is tough luck, Leetle Woman," sympathized Ham. "But we've
got tew take th' tough luck with th' tender an' make th' best on it.
Now, supposin' we have a look around. Maybe we can find some clue that
you missed, you being some excited. It'll go mighty hard with th'
robbers, if we catch them," and Ham's face hardened. "Now jest show us
where you had th' gold hidden," and he and the others followed Mr. and
Mrs. Dickson into the house.

"We had the gold hid right there, under that stone," and Dickson pointed
to an upturned flat stone, about a foot square, that lay near a small
hole, excavated in the bed of the fireplace, which the stone had
evidently covered over and concealed. "When we got in to-night there was
not a suspicious sign anywhere; and it was not until I lifted the stone
off the hole to put the gold in that we'd taken out since noon that we
discovered that we had been robbed. I reckon there is no use of trying
to find the robbers. A hundred men could hide themselves in these
mountains in a couple of hours where ten thousand could not find them,"
and the look of despair settled back on his face. "Nobody saw them come
and nobody saw them go and nobody has the least idea who did the
robbing. So, I guess, it is just up to Mollie and me to buckle down to
hard work and hard living again."

"Now, don't git discourage. Maybe thar's better luck in store for you
than you dream of," and Ham's face lighted up, as if a pleasant idea had
suddenly come to him. "I want tew have a talk with th' rest of th'
members of th' Never-Give-Up California Mining Company; an' then, may be
we'll have a propersition tew make tew you, an', ag'in, maybe we won't,"
and Ham grinned so good-naturedly that even Mrs. Dickson smiled wanly.

"Come on, fellers, let's git tew th' office of th' Never-Give-Up
California Mining Company; an' go intew secret session tew consider
important matters," and he hurried out of the house, followed by all the
others, except Mr. and Mrs. Dickson, who stared after them with
something like hope mingled with the look of wonderment on their faces.
They knew that Hammer Jones never talked that way, under such serious
circumstances, without meaning something. But, what could he mean?

Ham was the first to open the door of the log house and enter. The room
was dark and he struck a match and lit the candle, which had been left
on the table ready for lighting. The moment the light of the candle
illuminated the surface of the table, Ham uttered an exclamation and
stood staring blankly, for a moment, at something that glittered and
shimmered in the flickering candle light near the center of the table.

"Wal, I'll be durned!" and he reached out one of his big hands and
gingerly drew from the table a small keen-bladed Mexican dagger, which,
with a strong blow, had been driven through a piece of paper deep into
the wood of the table.

All the others were now crowding excitedly around the table; and Mr.
Conroyal quickly picked up the piece of paper and held it up to the
candlelight. On the paper were scrawled, with a piece of charred coal by
a hand unused to writing, the following words:

     WE ARE AGOIN TEW GIT THE MAP OR WE ARE A GOIN TEW GIT THE GOLD
     AFTER YOU GIT IT IF WE HAVE TEW GIT YOU TEW DEW IT. SO TEW SAVE
     YURSELFS TRUBLE AND TEW KEEP HUL SKINS ON YUR BONES YOUD BETER HAND
     OVER THAT MAP. THARS ENUF ON US TEW WHIP THE HUL ON YOU OFF THE
     FACE OF THE EARTH AND WE WIL DO IT IF YOU DONT GIVE UP THE MAP. A
     WORD TEW THE WISE IS ENUF. LIFE IS WURTH MORN GOLD. TI THE MAP TEW
     THE END OF THE STRING THAT YOU WIL FIND TIED TEW A STICK STUCK IN
     THE GROUND RIGHT NEAR YUR DOOR AND WE WIL PUL THE MAP TEW US. IF
     YOU TRI TEW FOLLOW THE MAP WE WIL SHOOT TEW KIL. IF YOU TRI TEW
     ROUSE THE TOWN WE WIL VAMOSE. WE ARE ON THE WATCH. GIVE 3 JERKS ON
     THE STRING WHEN YUR REDY FOR US TEW PUL THE MAP IN. IF WE DONT GIT
     THE MAP BY MIDNIGHT TEWNIGHT WE WIL KNOW ITS TEW BE WAR TEW THE
     DEATH.

This ominous note was unsigned; but there was no need of any signature.

For a moment after all had finished reading, no one spoke, but each
stood staring from the paper to the dagger in Ham's hand. Then Ham
suddenly straightened up with a growl of rage.

"I thought it was them, an' this proves I was right. Th' durned skunks!"
and the righteous wrath in Ham's eyes was good to see. "Now, men," and
his glance swept swiftly the circle of excited faces, "this makes th'
offerin' of proof unnecessary. We know who robbed th' Dicksons! An' we
know, if they hadn't a-ben watchin' us an' a tryin' tew git hold of that
thar skin map, they wouldn't have found out 'bout Dickson's gold an' did
th' robbin'. This makes us sort of respons'ble for th' robbin'; an', I
reckon, it's up tew us tew try an' make good what th' Dicksons lost on
'count of our bringin' them skunks down on them, more special since
their mine's gin out, tew. Now, seein' that thar durned dam has played
out on us, I reckon we're all a-calculatin' on havin' a try for th' Cave
of Gold next; an' I figger 'twouldn't be more'n square for us tew ask
th' Dicksons tew go long with us on th' hunt for th' dead miner's
wonderful cave, an', if we find it, for them tew share in th' gold same
as us. How does th' propersition strike you, men?"

"Bully!" exclaimed Thure enthusiastically. "Mrs. Dickson can beat dad
and the rest of you making flapjacks all hollow; and she can make
biscuits, real biscuits that a fellow can eat without cracking them
first with a hammer, the same as nuts!"

"Wal, I reckon, that argyment settles it," grinned Ham.

"Supposing we consider the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company in
session and put it to a vote," suggested Mr. Conroyal.

All agreeing, Mr. Conroyal promptly put the matter to a vote; and Mr.
and Mrs. Dickson were duly elected members of the Never-Give-Up
California Mining Company, with all the rights and privileges
appertaining thereto, the vote being unanimous.

"Now I'll appoint Hammer Jones and Rad Randolph a committee to notify
Mr. and Mrs. Dickson of their election and to escort them to the offices
of the Never-Give-Up California Mining Company," and Mr. Conroyal
smiled.

Ham and Mr. Randolph at once caught up their hats and hurried off to
perform their pleasant mission; and in five minutes were back with the
wondering man and woman on their arms between them.

As briefly as possible Mr. Conroyal now told the story of the skin map
and the Cave of Gold; and how they had every reason to believe that the
men who had robbed them were the same men who had murdered the miner,
and who now were striving so desperately to secure the skin map; and in
proof that the robbers and the murderers were the same, he showed the
note and the dagger, which they had found on the table, in evidence that
the men had been there that afternoon.

"Now," he concluded, "Ham thinks, and we all agree with him most
emphatically, that, since we are in a way responsible for bringing the
robbers down upon you, it would be no more than fair for us to invite
you to join with us in our search for this Cave of Gold, understanding,
of course, that, if the gold is found, all are to share alike, as all
will have to share alike the dangers and the difficulties of finding and
keeping it; and, judging by the note we found on the table, the dangers
will be real enough. Of course we are not sure that the cave really
exists, nor, if it does exist, that we will be able to find it; but we
have faith enough in it to give it a try. We plan to start on the hunt
just as soon as we can get ready, probably sometime tomorrow. This I
think explains the matter sufficiently for you to come to a decision.
Are you with us?"

"Yes! Yes!" exclaimed both Mr. and Mrs. Dickson eagerly.

"In to the death, as the note says," added Mrs. Dickson, smiling. "And
we thank you from the bottoms of our hearts for the chance."

"Do you know this murdered miner's name?" Dickson asked, his eyes
sparkling with excitement. "I think I know the man."

"John Stackpole, the map says," answered Mr. Conroyal.

"That's the man!" declared Dickson excitedly. "The very man I went
prospecting with last fall. He had some crazy idea in his head then
about a Cave of Gold that an old Indian whom he had cured of some
disease, he had been an army doctor once, had told him he had found in a
hidden gulch that opened into a canyon. We hunted all up and down the
canyon, into which the Indian said the gulch opened, but we couldn't
find no such gulch as the Indian described, and had to give it up. You
remember my telling you all about it, don't you, Mollie?" and Dickson
turned to his wife.

"Yes, yes," assented Mrs. Dickson eagerly. "You went on the trip while I
was away to Sacramento City and you told me all about it, when I got
back. Queer how things do turn out!"

"And so Stackpole really found the cave at last; but at the cost of his
life," and Dickson's face saddened. "Too bad!--I mean his murder; for he
was a good sort of a fellow, when he was away from liquor, but, let him
get a little whiskey down him, and he was as ugly as the devil. I reckon
that it was drink that drove him out of the army in disgrace; and I
reckon it was drink that caused his murder; for he was a very cautious
man and would have said nothing about his discovering the Cave of Gold,
especially to strangers, if he had been in his right senses--Can I, can
I see that map?" and Dickson's face suddenly lighted up. "Possibly I
know the place."

"Sure," and Mr. Conroyal turned to Thure. "Get out the map, Thure."

Thure's face reddened a little, but, turning his back to Mrs. Dickson,
he quickly, with the aid of his knife, ripped open the bosom of his
shirt, and, pulling out the map, handed it to his father, who at once
spread it out on the table in front of Dickson.

"Lot's Canyon!" Dickson cried excitedly, almost the moment his eyes fell
on the map. "Why, that's the very name we gave the canyon where we tried
to find the hidden gulch, on account of a white pillar of rock, that
Stackpole said might have been Lot's wife. And here is the very pillar
itself!" and he pointed to the little square on the map marked Lot's
Wife. "And the Big Tree! And the Devil's Slide! And Goose Neck Lake!
Every one of them names that we gave to places! I am sure that that is
the same canyon that Stackpole searched for the Cave of Gold when I was
with him," and Dickson turned an excited face to Mr. Conroyal. "It's
about a five days' tramp from here."

"That's what the dying miner said," broke in Bud eagerly.

"And do you think you can find that canyon again?" asked Mr. Conroyal
anxiously. "The trail on the map is none too clear; and I reckon we'd
have to do some hunting before we found it, with only the map to guide
us."

"I am sure I can," answered Dickson, his eyes still on the map.

"Well, then, we are in great luck," declared Mr. Conroyal. "I--Jumping
grasshoppers, if we are not forgetting all about that polite note!" he
exclaimed, as his eyes happened suddenly to fall on the dagger and the
bit of paper, which, during all this time, had lain on the table
neglected. "Now, what shall we do about that?" and his eyes flashed
around the circle of faces.

"Let's first see if the string is really there," proposed Thure.

"Good idee," and Ham caught up the candle and started for the door,
followed by all the others, Thure and Bud at his heels.

Within six feet of the door they found a sharpened stick thrust into the
ground, with the end of a strong string tied to it. The string ran along
the ground as far as the eye could see and disappeared in the darkness
of the night, in the direction of a thick clump of trees forty rods
away.

"Wal, now, they shore are cunnin' cusses!" and Ham's eyes followed the
string admiringly until it was lost in the darkness. "Jest tie th' map
tew th' end of this string, an' somebudy out thar somewhere in th'
darkness will pull it tew him, without nobudy here bein' th' wiser for
it. Not a durned bit of use tew follow up th' string neither. They could
shoot an' cut an' run long afore we could see them in th' darkness. They
shore are good at planning th' durned skunks! Say, jest supposin' we
send 'em a leetle message, jest tew see how th' string works," and Ham
turned to the others, a broad grin on his face.

This impressed all as a good idea, and they hurried back into the house
to prepare the message. In a few minutes the message, written on the
back of the piece of paper which they had found on the table, was ready.
It was brief, but to the point, and read:

     If you want the map, come and get it. There are nine men and one
     woman, worth any two men, who will be glad to welcome you.

The paper, with the message on it, was now rolled up tightly, and all
hurried out to the string.

Mr. Conroyal took the paper, and, kneeling down by the side of the
stick, untied the string, tied the little packet of paper strongly to
it, and then gave the string three sharp, strong jerks.

The response was prompt. Hardly had he given the last jerk, when the
string was pulled out of his hand, and the little packet of paper
started bobbing along over the ground toward the distant clump of trees,
with all watching its progress with fascinated eyes, until it
disappeared in the darkness.

For, perhaps, ten minutes they stood there, no one speaking a word, and
all eyes turned in the direction whither the little packet of paper had
disappeared. Then they saw a faint glow in the little clump of trees, as
if someone had struck a match.

"I reckon they're readin' it," grinned Ham. "Wonder how they like it?"

Ham did not have to wonder long; for, almost as he uttered the last
word, a spurt of flame leaped out from the dark shadows of the distant
clump of trees, and a rifle bullet whistled so close by his face that it
burnt the end of his nose, and buried itself in the logs of the house.

"Gosh A'mighty, he's got my nose!" and Ham made a break for the door of
the house, one big hand holding on to the end of his nose.

In two seconds all were in the house and the door shut.

"How much on it did he git? Not enough tew spoil my beauty, I hopes,"
and Ham held a lighted candle in front of his face before a small mirror
hanging on the wall. "Wal, I'll be durned! Jest burnt th' tip end on
it!" and he set the candle down on the table in disgust.

The darkness of the night and the wilderness of the surrounding
mountains made absolutely useless any attempt to follow up their
enemies; and, after an hour spent in discussing plans, Mr. and Mrs.
Dickson returned to their house, and our friends hurried into their
bunks, to get the rest needed to fit them for a busy morrow.

CHAPTER XXI

PEDRO

The next morning all our friends were up an hour before sunrise; for the
Never-Give-Up California Mining Company had much to do that morning, if
they started on the hunt for the Cave of Gold that day, as they hoped to
do. The horses had to be brought from the little valley five miles away,
where they had been turned out to pasture, needed supplies of food and
clothing and tools had to be procured at the stores of Hangtown, and
everything had to be made ready for the rough journey through the
wilderness of mountains and forests to the northeast. But nine men and
one woman can accomplish much in a few hours; and by noon everything was
in readiness for the start, and the horses stood saddled and bridled and
packed, ready for the journey, before the door of the log house, while
our friends gathered around the rough table inside for their last meal
in the house that had sheltered them for so long.

"Seems almost like leaving home," declared Mr. Conroyal, as his eyes
glanced slowly around the familiar room.

"It shore does," agreed Ham. "We've had some mighty good times in the
old house; an' I hopes th' fellers who move in when we're out, will be
sort of gentle tew things. Somehow it seems a leetle cruel tew desert
them tew friendly old rockers thar, that have so often given ease an'
comfort tew our tired bodies, not knowin' what sort of critters will
next sot down in 'em," and his eyes rested on the two barrel-rockers.
"They seem tew be a lookin' at me right now, sort of forlorn an'
reproachful-like," and a smile lighted his face at the whimsical
thought. "Wal, that kind of philosophizin' won't dig no gold. Now, dew
you reckon them skunks are on th' watch an' will try tew foller us?" and
the smile left his face.

"Yes," answered Mr. Conroyal. "They have probably been watching us all
the morning. When Frank and I started out as soon as it was light enough
to see to try and trace the string and maybe get onto the trail of the
scoundrels, we both feel certain that we were watched and that somebody
was warned of our coming, because, before we'd gone a dozen rods, we
heard a coyotelike bark, coming from way up the mountain-side and ending
in a howl that we are sure never came from a coyote's throat; and, when
we got to the clump of trees, we found signs of someone having been
there only a few minutes before, and followed the trail to a rocky gulch
a dozen rods beyond the trees, where we lost the trail on the hard
rocks. Yes, they sure will try to follow us; for now, I fancy, their
plan is, since they can't get hold of the map, to let us find the gold
and then to try and get it away from us. At least that is the way Frank
and I figure it out; and we've got to give them the slip somehow
somewhere between here and Lot's Canyon, or fight for the gold. Quinley
and Ugger have probably gathered together a band of cut-throats, and
figure on being able to get the gold away from us after we have found
it."

"And we calculate," continued Frank Holt, "that the best way to try and
give them the slip will be to go into camp early to-night; and then
about midnight to suddenly and quietly break camp and steal away under
cover of the darkness, hoping to get away without their knowing it."

"I reckon they're tew cute tew be fooled that easy," and Ham shook his
head.

"And so do we," grinned back Holt. "But we calculate that it will make
them think that we think that we have fooled them, and so they won't
consider it necessary to keep so close watch on us, and we can try to
make our real getaway the next night or the night after."

"That sounds more like it," and Ham grinned his approval. "Wal, since we
all 'pear tew be through eatin', let's git a-goin'," and he jumped up
from the table and hurried out doors, nearly stumbling over a thin,
sallow-faced, middle-aged Mexican, who stood near the door apparently
waiting for someone to come out.

"Hello, Pedro! What you doin' here?" and Ham scowled down on the little
Mexican, whom he had often seen working about Coleman's store. "Coleman
send you for something?"

"No, señor," answered the Mexican. "Coleman kick me this morning; and
now I no longer work for Coleman. I now would cook and keep camp for
señors," and he bowed, with a flourish of both his thin arms. "Get wood,
make fire, cook, carry water, clean dish, all I do for señors. I very
good cook. Coleman say I make best flapjacks in Hangtown. All I do for
señors for one ounce gold-dust a week. Si, señors?" and his bright black
eyes flashed questioningly around the circle of faces that, by this
time, had gathered around him.

"But, see, our hosses are packed. We're 'bout tew break camp," and Ham
pointed to the horses.

"Si, señor," answered Pedro, smiling. "I know how pack horse, so pack no
slip under belly. I go where señors go. I do good work, kind, faithful,
honest," and again he smiled, until his teeth showed like two rows of
yellow ivory in his mouth.

"Now," and Ham turned questioningly to the others. "I wonder if
'twouldn't be a good thing tew take Pedro 'long? He could help a lot
'bout hoss-packin' an' cookin' an' things, an' could dew all th' dirty
heavy work for th' Leetle Woman."

"Reckon you're right, Ham," declared Mr. Conroyal. "Shall we take the
Mexican on his own terms?" and he glanced inquiringly around.

"Yes, and a good bargain I call it," assented Mr. Randolph. "Pedro
couldn't have staid as long as he did with Coleman, if he hadn't been a
pretty decent sort of a Mexican; and he can help a lot about camp."

And thus it came about that Pedro, the Mexican, entered the service of
our friends, without a thought of suspicion that he might be other than
what he seemed coming into the head of one of them. If they had not seen
him so often working about Coleman's store and felt sure that he was
only an ignorant Mexican menial, they probably would have been a little
more cautious about taking him with them on such a venture as they were
about to undertake.

Mrs. Dickson was given one of the horses to ride, although she protested
that she was just as able to walk as anybody; but the other five horses
were all loaded with the packs containing the supplies for the journey
and the mining tools, the men, of course, all walking. The five
pack-horses were placed in charge of Pedro and brought up the rear of
the little column of men that now marched slowly over the hill that
flanked Hangtown and off toward the unknown wilderness of mountains and
forests to the northeast, Ham and Dickson and Mr. Conroyal in the lead.

For the first two or three days' march, or until they had passed beyond
the region where the miners were at work, their way would be plain. They
had only to follow the trail of the miners to Humbug Canyon, the last
known place marked down on the skin map. But from Humbug Canyon on there
would be no trail to follow and they would be obliged to trust to the
guidance of Mr. Dickson and the skin map to bring them into Lot's
Canyon. After that they would have to depend entirely on the map and
their own skill to discover the hidden opening into Crooked Arm Gulch.

Naturally Thure and Bud were in high spirits, now that they were
actually on their way to the marvelous Cave of Gold; and, boylike, they
allowed no thoughts of the threatening perils from Ugger and Quinley and
their band of cut-throats to trouble their minds or to distract their
attention from the wonderful scenes constantly unfolding before them, as
they advanced along the trail leading to Humbug Canyon, where something
interesting or beautiful or both met their eyes each moment, no matter
in what direction they looked. Now it was some wonderful formation of
nature--great masses of rocks towering thousands of feet above their