Digging for Gold, Robert Michael Ballantyne [autobiographies to read TXT] 📗

something so intensely earnest and truthful in his bearing that Frank, under a sudden and irresistible impulse, which he could not afterwards account for, drew his knife and cut the cords that bound him.

Instantly Bradling bounded away like a hunted deer, overturning several men in his flight, and being followed by a perfect storm of bullets from rifles and revolvers, until he had disappeared in the neighbouring wood. Then the miners turned with fury on Frank, but paused abruptly on seeing that he and Joe Graddy stood back to back, with a revolver in each hand.

Of course revolvers and rifles were instantly pointed at them, but fortunately the miners in their exasperation had discharged all their fire-arms at Bradling--not a piece remained loaded!

Several therefore commenced hurriedly to re-load, but Frank shouted, in a voice that there was no misunderstanding--

"The first who attempts to load is a dead man!"

This caused them to hesitate, for in those times men, when desperate, were wont to be more prompt to act than to threaten. Still, there were some present who would have run the risk, and it is certain that our hero and his friend would have then and there terminated their career, had not a backwoods hunter stepped forward and said:

"Well now, ye air makin' a pretty noise 'bout nothin'! See here, I know that feller Bradling well. _He_ didn't kill the man. It was a Redskin as did it; I came up in time to see him do it, and killed the Redskin afore he could get away. In proof whereof here is his gun, an' you'll find his carcase under the bank where the murder was committed, if ye've a mind to look for it. But Bradling _is_ a murderer. I knows him of old, an' so, although he's innocent of this partikler murder, I didn't see no occasion to try to prevent him gittin' his desarts. It's another matter, hows'ever, when you're goin' to scrag the men as let him off. If ye'll take the advice of an old hunter as knows a thing or two, you'll go to work on yer claims slick off, for the rains are comin' on, and they will pull ye up sharp, I guess. You'll make hay while the sun shines if you're wise."

The opportune interference of this hunter saved Frank and Joe, who, after thanking their deliverer, were not slow to mount their mules and hasten back to Bigbear Gully, resolved more firmly than ever to wind up their affairs, and bid a final adieu to the diggings.


CHAPTER NINE.


CONCLUSION.

When they arrived at Bigbear Gully they found the condition of the people most deplorable, owing to scarcity of provisions, prevailing sickness, and the total absence of physic or medical attendance. To make matters worse, there were indications that the rainy season was about to set in; an event that would certainly increase the violence of the disease which had already swept away so many of the miners, not a few of whom fell down in the holes where they were digging for gold, and thus, in digging their own graves, ended their golden dreams, with gold-dust for their winding-sheets.

In California there may be said to be only two seasons--a wet one and a dry. The wet season is from November to March, during which period foggy weather and cold south-west winds prevail. During the remaining months of the year, arid scorching north-east winds blow so frequently and so long that everything green becomes parched and shrivelled up. Of course this state of things is modified in different localities by the proximity or absence of mountains, rivers, and sandy plains, and there are various periods throughout the year during which the climate is delightful; but on the whole it is considered bad--especially during the rains, when water comes down in such continuous deluges that gold-digging and all other work is much interfered with--sometimes stopped altogether. At midday in this season there is frequently July heat, while in the morning and evening there is January cold.

Anxious to escape before the weather became worse, Frank went at once to Jeffson's store to obtain supplies, settle up accounts, and inquire for his friend Meyer. He found Jeffson looking very ill--he having recently had a severe attack of the prevailing complaint, but "Company" had recovered completely, and was very busy with the duties of his store, which ("Company" being a warm-hearted man) included gratuitous attendance on, and sympathy with, the sick.

"It'll ruin us intirely," he was wont to say, "for we can't stand by and see them die o' sickness an' intarvation mixed, an' the poor critters has nothin' wotever to pay. Hows'ever, vartue is its own reward, an' we makes the tough miners pay handsome for their supplies, which makes up for the sick wans, an' kapes us goin' on hearty enough."

"And what of Meyer?" asked Frank, somewhat anxiously.

Instead of answering, Jeffson put on his hat, and bidding him follow, went out of the store. He led him and Joe towards a large pine-tree, at the root of which there was a low mound, carefully covered with green turf. Pointing to it, the Yankee store-keeper said with some emotion--

"There he lies, poor fellow; and a better, more kind-hearted, or honester man, never drove pick and shovel into the airth."

In compliance with the request of Frank, who was deeply moved, Jeffson told how that, after the departure of his friends, the poor German's spirits sank; and while he was in this state, he was prevented from rallying by a severe attack of dysentery which ended in his death.

"I trust that he was not pressed by poverty at the last," said Frank.

"He would have been," replied the Yankee, "if he had been allowed to have 'is own way; for, being unable to work, of course he ran out o' gold-dust, and nothing would persuade him to touch the nugget you left in my charge. I hit upon a plan, however, which answered very well. I supplied him all through his illness with everything that he required to make him as comfortable as could be, poor fellow, tellin' him it was paid for in full by a friend of his, whose name I couldn't and wouldn't mention. `Jeffson,' says he, startin' up like a livin' skeleton, and lookin' at me so serious with his hollow eyes; `Jeffson, if it bees _you_ dat give me de tings, I vill not have dem. I vill die first. You is poor, an' ve cannot expect you keep all de dyin' miners vor noting.'

"`Well,' says I, `I won't go for to say I'm over rich, for times _air_ raither hard just now; but it ain't _me_ as is the friend. I assure you I'm paid for it in full, so you make your mind easy.'

"With that he lay down an' gave a long sigh. He was exhausted, and seemed to have dismissed the subject from his mind, for he never spoke of it again."

"I rather suspect," said Frank, "that you did not tell him the exact truth."

"I guess I did," replied the Yankee.

"Who, then, was the friend?"

"Yourself," said Jeffson, with a peculiar smile. "I intend to keep payment of it all off your nugget, for you see it _is_ a fact that we ain't in very flourishing circumstances at present; and I knew you would thank me for not deserting your friend in his distress."

"You did quite right," said Frank earnestly; "and I thank you with all my heart for your kindness to poor Meyer, as well as your correct estimate of me."

Frank did not forget that his own resources were at a low ebb just then, and that he had been counting on the nugget for the payment of his expenses to the coast, and his passage to England, but he made no mention of the fact. His comrade, Joe Graddy, however, could not so easily swallow his disappointment in silence.

"Well," said he, turning his quid from one cheek to the other--for Joe was guilty of the bad habit of chewing tobacco,--"well, it's not for the likes o' me to put my opinion contrairy to yourn, an' in coorse it's all very right that our poor messmate should have been looked arter, an I'm very glad he wos. Notwithstandin', I'm bound for to say it _is_ raither okard as it stands, for we're pretty nigh cleaned out, an' have got to make for the coast in the rainy season, w'ich, it appears to me, is very like settin' sail in a heavy gale without ballast."

"Come, Joe," interposed Frank, "we're not quite so hard up as that comes to. There is a little ballast left,--sufficient, if we only turn to, and wash out a little more gold, to take us home."

"Sorry to hear you're in such a fix," said Jeffson, still regarding his friends with a peculiar smile on his cadaverous countenance; "but I think I can get ye out of it. See here," he added, leading them to another grave not far distant from that of Meyer; "can you guess who lies under the sod there? He was a friend of yours; though perhaps you would scarcely have acknowledged him had he been alive. You remember Bradling--"

"What! our old travelling companion!" exclaimed Frank.

"The same."

"Why, I saved his life only a few days ago."

"I know it," said Jeffson, "He came here late one night, all covered with blood; and, flinging himself down on a bench in my store, said that he was done for. And so he was, I guess,--all riddled with bullets, none of which, however, had given him a mortal wound; but he had lost so much blood by the way that he had no chance of recovering. I did my best for him, poor fellow, but he sank rapidly. Before he died he told me how you had saved him from being scragged, and said that he wanted to make you his heir."

"Poor fellow," said Frank with a sad smile, "it was a kind expression of gratitude that I did not expect of him, considering his reputation."

"I s'pose," said Joe Graddy, with a sarcastic laugh, "that you'll be goin' to set up your carriage an' four, an' make me your coachman, mayhap?"

"I think I may promise that with safety," replied Frank.

"Indeed you may," said Jeffson, "for Bradling has been one of the most successful diggers in Bigbear Gully since you left it, and has made his fortune twice over. The value of gold-dust and nuggets left by him in my charge for you is about ninety-six thousand dollars, which, I believe, is nigh twenty thousands pounds sterling of your money."

"Gammon!" exclaimed Joe.

"You are jesting," said Frank.

"That I am not, as you shall see, if you will come with me to the store. When he felt sure that he was dying, Bradling asked me to call together a few of the honest and trustworthy men in the diggings. I did so, and he told us the amount of his gatherings, and, after explaining how you had helped him in his hour of need, said that he took us all solemnly to witness that he left you his heir. He got one of the miners to write out a will for him and signed it, after which he directed us to