"Surely you have been too hasty," exclaimed Frank, advancing without any settled intention, but under an indefinable sense that wrong was being done.

At this several miners leaped forward, and drawing their revolvers, swore with a terrible oath that they would shoot any man who should attempt to cut the murderer down.

As one of the miners here explained hastily why it was that justice had been meted out with such promptitude, our hero drew back and left the spot, feeling, however, that Judge Lynch was a very dangerous character, seeing that he might be just as prompt with the innocent as with the guilty, although he would find it rather difficult to recall life if he should find out afterwards that he had been mistaken in his views.

This event was followed two days after by another incident, which caused considerable excitement in Bigbear Gully. With the increase of miners there had been a considerable increase of crime, as might naturally have been expected in a country where, while there were undoubtedly many honest men, there were also thousands of scoundrels of all nations who had been attracted thither by the dazzling accounts given of the new El Dorado in the West. Rows, more or less severe, in reference to claims and boundaries, had become frequent. Cold-blooded murders were on the increase; and thefts became so common that a general sense of insecurity began to be felt.

This state of things at last wrought its own cure. One day a youth went into the hut of a neighbouring digger, a Yankee, and stole a coffee-tin. He was taken in the act, and as this was the second time that he had been caught purloining his neighbours' goods, those in the vicinity rose up en masse in a furore of indignation. A hurried meeting of all the miners was called, and it was unanimously resolved—at least so unanimously that those who dissented thought it advisable to be silent— that Lynch-law should be rigorously put in force.

Accordingly, several of the most energetic and violent of the miners constituted themselves judges on the spot, and, on hearing a brief statement of the case, decreed that the culprit was to be subjected to whatever punishment should be determined on by the man whom he had injured. The Yankee at once decided that the rims of his ears should be cut off, and that he should be seared deeply in the cheek with a red-hot iron; which sentence was carried into execution on the spot!

It happened that while this was going on, another of the thieving fraternity, who did not know of the storm that was gathering and about to burst over the heads of such as he, took advantage of the excitement to enter a tent, and abstract therefrom a bag of gold worth several hundred pounds. It chanced that the owner of it happened to be ailing slightly that day, and, instead of following his companions, had lain still in his tent, rolled up in blankets. He was awakened by the thief, sprang up and collared him, and, observing what he was about, dragged him before the tribunal which was still sitting in deliberation on the affairs of the community. The man was instantly condemned to be shot, and this was done at once—several of the exasperated judges assisting the firing party to carry the sentence into execution.

"Now men," cried a tall raw-boned Yankee from the Western States, mounting on a stump after the body had been removed, and speaking with tremendous vehemence, "I guess things have come to such a deadlock here that it's time for honest men to carry things with a high hand, so I opine we had better set about it and make a few laws,—an' if you have no objections, I'll lay down a lot o' them slick off—bran' new laws, warranted to work well, and stand wear and tear, and ready greased for action."

"Hear! hear!" cried several voices in the crowd that surrounded this western Solon, while others laughed at his impudence. All, however, were eager to see the prevailing state of things put right, and glad to back any one who appeared able and willing to act with vigour.

"Wall then, here goes," cried the Yankee. "Let it be decreed that whatever critter shall be nabbed in the act of makin' tracks, with what isn't his'n, shall have his ears cut off, if it's a mild case, and be hanged or shot if it's a bad un."

A hearty and stern assent was at once given to this law, and the law-giver went on to lay down others. He said that of course murder would be punished also with death, and for several other offences men should be flogged or branded on the cheeks with red-hot irons. Having in little more than ten minutes laid down these points, he enacted that thenceforth each man should be entitled to a claim of ten feet square, which, being multiplied by the number of his mess, would give the limits of the allotments in particular locations; but that, he said, would not prevent any man from moving from one site and fixing on another.

To this proposition, however, some of the miners demurred, and the law-giver found that, although in criminal law he had been allowed to have it all his own way, in civil matters he must listen to the opinion of others. However, after much wrangling this law was agreed to; and it was also arranged, among other things, that as long as any one left his tools in his claim, his rights were to be respected.

This meeting had the most beneficial influence on the miners. Rough and ready, as well as harsh, though their proceedings were, they accomplished the end in view most effectually, for after several terrible examples had been made, which proved to evil-doers that men were thoroughly in earnest, stealing, quarrelling about boundaries, and murdering were seldom heard of in that district—insomuch that men could leave bags of gold in their tents unwatched for days together, and their tools quite open in their claims without the slightest fear of their being touched!

The reader must not suppose here that we are either upholding or defending the proceedings of the celebrated Judge Lynch. We are merely recording facts, which prove how efficacious his severe code was in bringing order out of confusion in Bigbear Gully at that time.

It is not necessary that we should follow the varied fortunes of our hero and his friends, day by day, while they were engaged in digging for gold. Suffice it to say that sometimes they were fortunate, sometimes the reverse, but that on the whole, they were successful beyond the average of diggers, and became sanguine of making their fortunes in a short time.

Nevertheless Frank Allfrey did not like the life. Whatever else might arouse his ambition, he was evidently not one of those whose soul was set upon the acquisition of wealth. Although successful as a digger, and with more gold in his possession than he knew what to do with, he detested the dirty, laborious work of digging and dabbling in mud from morning till night. He began to see that, as far as the nature of his daily toil was concerned, he worked harder, and was worse off than the poorest navvy who did the dirtiest work in old England! He sighed for more congenial employment, meditated much over the subject, and finally resolved to give up gold-digging.

Before, however, he could carry this resolve into effect, he was smitten with a dire disease, and in a few days lay on the damp floor of his poor hut, as weak and helpless as a little child.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

FRANK AND JOE TAKE TO WANDERING; SEE SOME WONDERFUL THINGS, AND HAVE A NARROW ESCAPE.

Before our hero became convalescent, his comrade Douglas was "laid down" with dysentery. In these circumstances, the digging went on slowly, for much of the time of Meyer and Graddy was necessarily occupied in nursing—and truly kind and devoted, though rough, nurses they proved to be in that hour of need.

Gradually, but surely, Douglas sank. There was no doctor to prescribe for him, no medicine to be had for love or money. In that wretched hut he lay beside his sick friend, and conversed, as strength permitted, in faint low tones, on the folly of having thrown his life away for "mere gold," and on the importance of the things that concern the soul. As he drew near his end, the name of the Saviour was often on his lips, and often did he reproach himself for having neglected the "great salvation," until it was almost too late. Sometimes he spoke of home—in Scotland,—and gave many messages to Frank, which he begged him to deliver to his mother, if he should ever get well and live to return home.

There was something in that "if" which went with a thrill to Frank's heart, as he lay there, and realised vividly that his comrade was actually dying, and that he too might die.

One evening Joe entered the hut with more alacrity than he had done for many a day. He had a large nugget, just dug up, in his hand, and had hastened to his companions to cheer them, if possible, with a sight of it. Douglas was just passing away. He heard his comrade's hearty remarks, and looked upon the mass of precious metal.

"Joe," he whispered faintly, "Wisdom is more to be desired than gold; 'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.'"

He never spoke again, and died within an hour after that.

At last Frank began to mend, and soon found himself strong enough to travel, he therefore made arrangements to leave Bigbear Gully with his inseparable friend Joe. Meyer, being a very strong man, and in robust health, determined to remain and work out their claim, which still yielded abundance of gold.

"Meyer," said Frank, the evening before his departure, "I'm very sorry that we are obliged to leave you."

"Ya, das ist mos' miserable," said the poor German, looking disconsolate.

"But you see," continued Frank, "that my remaining, in my present state of health, is out of the question. Now, Joe and I have been talking over our affairs. We intend to purchase three mules and set off under the guidance of a half-caste Californian, to visit different parts of this country. We will continue our journey as long as our gold lasts, and then return to San Francisco and take passage for England,—for we have both come to the unalterable determination that we won't try to make our fortunes by gold-digging. We have sufficient dust to give us a long trip and pay our passage to England, without making use of that big nugget found by Joe, which is worth at least 200 pounds; so we have determined to leave it in possession of Jeffson, to be used by you if luck should ever take a wrong turn—as it will sometimes do—and you should chance to get into difficulties. Of course if you continue prosperous, we will reclaim our share of it on our return hither."

"Ah, you is too goot," cried the warm-hearted German, seizing Frank's hand and wringing it, "bot I vill nevair use de nuggut—nevair! You sall find him here sartainly ven you do com bak."

"Well, I hope so, for your own sake," said Frank, "because that will show you have been successful. But if you get into low water, and do not use it, believe me I shall feel very much aggrieved."

Next day about noon, our hero and Joe, with Junk, their vaquero, mounted their mules and rode away.

"A new style o' cruisin' this," said Joe Graddy, one fine day, as they pulled up under the shade of a large tree, at a spot where the scenery was so magnificent that Frank resolved to rest and sketch it.

"New, indeed, and splendid too," he exclaimed enthusiastically, leaping off his mule. "You can go shoot squirrels or bears if you like, Joe, but here I remain for the next three or four hours."

As Frank had been in the habit of treating his friend thus almost every day since starting on their tour, he was quite prepared for it; smiled knowingly, ordered the vaquero to tether the mules and accompany him into the forest, and then, taking his bearings with a small pocket-compass, and critically inspecting the sun, and a huge pinchbeck watch which was the faithful companion of his wanderings, he shouldered his gun and went off, leaving the enthusiastic painter to revel in the glories of the landscape.

And truly magnificent the scenery was. They had wandered by that time far from the diggings, and were involved in all the grandeur of the primeval wilderness. Stupendous mountains, capped with snow, surrounded the beautiful valley through which they were travelling, and herbage of the richest description clothed the ground, while some of the trees were so large that many of the giant oaks of old England would have appeared small beside them. Some of the precipices of the valley were fully three thousand feet high, without a break from top to bottom, and the mountain-ranges in the background must have been at least as high again. Large tracts of the low grounds were covered with wild oats and rich grasses; affording excellent pasturage to the deer, which could be seen roving about in herds. Lakes of various sizes were alive with waterfowl, whose shrill and plaintive cries filled the air with wild melody. A noble river coursed throughout the entire length of the valley, and its banks were clothed with oaks, cypresses, and chestnuts, while, up on the mountain sides, firs of truly gigantic size reared their straight stems above the surrounding trees with an air of towering magnificence, which gave them indisputable right to be considered the aristocracy of those grand solitudes.

Of these firs Frank observed one so magnificent that, although anxious to begin work without delay, he could not resist the desire to examine it closely. Laying down his book and pencil he ran towards it, and stood for some time in silent amazement, feeling that he was indeed in the presence of the Queen of the Forest. It was a pine which towered to a height of certainly not less than three hundred and sixty feet, and, after careful measurement, was found to be ninety-three feet in circumference. In regarding this tree as the Queen, Frank was doubly correct, for the natives styled it the "Mother of the Forest." The bark of it, to the height of a hundred and sixteen feet, was, in after years, carried to England, and built up in its original form in the Crystal Palace of Sydenham. It was unfortunately destroyed in the great fire which a few years ago consumed a large part of that magnificent building.

But this was not the only wonderful sight that was seen that day. After Frank had finished his drawing, and added it to a portfolio which was already well filled, he fired a shot to recall his nautical comrade and the vaquero. They soon rejoined him, and, continuing their journey, came to a waterfall which, in some respects, excelled that of the far-famed Niagara itself.

It had sounded like murmuring thunder in their ears the greater part of that day, and as they approached it the voice of its roar became so deafening that they were prepared for something unusually grand, but not for the stupendous sight and sound that burst upon them when, on turning round the base of a towering precipice, they came suddenly in full view of one of the most wonderful of the Creator's works in that land.

A succession of wall-like mountains rose in two tiers before them into the clouds. Some of the lower clouds floated far below the highest peaks. From the summit of the highest range, a river, equal to the Thames at Richmond, dropt sheer down a precipice of more than two thousand feet. Here it met the summit of the lower mountain-range, on which it burst with a deep-toned sullen roar, comparable only to eternal thunder. A white cloud of spray received the falling river in its soft embrace, and sent it forth again, turbulent and foam-bespeckled, towards its second leap,—another thousand feet,—into the plain below. The entire height of this fall was above three thousand feet!

Our hero was of course anxious to make a careful drawing of it, but having already exhausted the greater part of the day, he was fain to content himself with a sketch, after making which they pushed rapidly forward, and encamped for the night, still within sight and sound of the mighty fall.

"D'you know, Joe," said Frank, leaning back against a tree stem, as he gazed meditatively into into the fire after supper was concluded, "it has often struck me that men are very foolish for not taking full possession of the splendid world, in which they have been placed."

Frank paused a few moments, but the observation not being sufficiently definite for Joe, who was deep in the enjoyment of his first pipe, no reply was made beyond an interjectional "h'm."

"Just look around you," pursued Frank, waving his hand towards the landscape, "at this magnificent country; what timber, what soil, what an amount of game, what lakes, what rivers, what facilities for farming, manufacturing, fishing,—everything, in fact, that is calculated to gladden the heart of man."

"Includin' gold," suggested Joe.

"Including gold," assented Frank; and there it all lies—has lain since creation—hundreds of thousands of acres of splendid land unoccupied.

"Ha! there's a screw loose somewhere," said Joe, taking the pipe from his lips and looking at it earnestly, as if the remark were addressed to it, "somethin' out o' j'int—a plank started, so to speak—cer'nly."

"No doubt of it," said Frank; "and the broad acres which we now look upon, as well as those over which we have lately travelled, are as nothing compared with the other waste but fertile lands in America, on which hundreds of thousands of the human race might live happily. Yet, strange to say, men seem to prefer congregating together in little worlds of brick, stone, and mortar, living tier upon tier above each other's heads, breathing noxious gases instead of the scent of flowers, treading upon mud, stone, and dust, instead of green grass, and dwelling under a sky of smoke instead of bright blue ether—and this, too, in the face of the Bible command to 'go forth and replenish the earth.'"

"Yes, there's great room," said Joe, "for the settin' up of a gin'ral enlightenment an' universal emigration society, but I raither think it wouldn't pay."

"I know it wouldn't, but why not?" demanded Frank.

"Ah, why not?" repeated Joe.

As neither of them appeared to be able to answer the question, they both remained for some time in a profound reverie, Frank gazing as he was wont to do into the fire, and Joe staring through smoke of his own creation at the vaquero, who reclined on the opposite side of the fire enjoying the tobacco to the full by letting it puff slowly out at his nose as well as his mouth.

"Joe," said Frank.

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Joe with nautical promptitude.

"I have been thinking a good deal about our affairs of late, and have come to the conclusion that the sooner we go home the better."

"My notions pre-cisely."

"Moreover," continued Frank, "I think that we have come far enough in this direction, and that it would be a good plan to return to Bigbear Gully by a different route from that by which we came here, and thus have an opportunity of seeing some of the other parts of the diggings. What say you to that?"

"I'm agreeable," answered Joe.

"Well then, shall we decide to commence our return journey to-morrow?"

"By all means. Down wi' the helm, 'bout ship an' lay our course on another tack by daylight," said Joe, shaking the ashes out of his pipe with the slow unwilling air of a man who knows that he has had enough but is loath to give up; "I always like to set sail by daylight. It makes one feel up to the mark so to speak, as if one had lost none of the day, and I suppose," he added with a sigh which resolved itself into a yawn, "that if we means to start so bright an' early the sooner we tumble in the better."

"True," said Frank, whose mouth irresistibly followed the example of Joe's, "I think it will be as well to turn in."

There was a quiet, easy-going lowness in the speech and motions of the two friends, which showed that they were just in a state of readiness to fall into the arms of the drowsy god. They rolled themselves in their blankets, placed their rifles by their sides, their heads on their saddles, and their feet to the fire.

Joe Graddy's breathing proclaimed that he had succumbed at once, but Frank lay for a considerable time winking owlishly at the stars, which returned him the compliment with interest by twinkling at him through the branches of the overhanging trees.

Early next morning they arose, remounted their mules and turned back, diverging, according to arrangement, from their former track, and making for a particular part of the diggings where Frank had been given to understand there were many subjects of interest for his pencil. We would fain linger by the way, to describe much of what they saw, but the limits of our space require that we should hasten onward, and transport the reader at once to a place named the Great Canon, which, being a very singular locality, and peculiarly rich in gold, merits description.

It was a gloomy gap or gorge—a sort of gigantic split in the earth— lying between two parallel ranges of hills at a depth of several hundred feet, shaped like a wedge, and so narrow below that there was barely standing room. The gold all lay at the bottom, the slopes being too steep to afford it a resting-place.

The first diggers who went there were said to have gathered vast quantities of gold; and when Frank and Joe arrived there was quite enough to repay hard work liberally. The miners did not work in companies there. Indeed, the form of the chasm did not admit of operations on a large scale being carried on at any one place. Most of the men worked singly with the pan, and used large bowie-knives with which they picked gold from the crevices of the rocks in the bed of the stream, or scratched the gravelly soil from the roots of the overhanging trees, which were usually rich in deposits. The gorge, about four miles in extent, presented one continuous string of men in single file, all eagerly picking up gold, and admitting that in this work they were unusually successful.

But these poor fellows paid a heavy price for the precious metal in the loss of health, the air being very bad, as no refreshing breezes could reach them at the bottom of the gloomy defile.

The gold at that place was found both in very large and very small grains, and was mixed with quantities of fine black sand, which the miners blew off from it somewhat carelessly—most of them being "green hands," and anxious to get at the gold as quickly as possible. This carelessness on their part was somewhat cleverly taken advantage of by a keen old fellow who chanced to enter the hut of a miner when Frank and Joe were there. He had a bag on his back and a humorous twinkle in his eye.

"Well, old foxey, what do you want?" asked the owner of the hut, who happened to be blowing off the sand from a heap of his gold at the time.

"Sure it's only a little sand I want," said the man, in a brogue which betrayed his origin.

"Sand, Paddy, what for?"

"For emery, sure," said the man, with a very rueful look; "troth it's myself as is gittin' too owld entirely for the diggin's. I was a broth of a boy wance, but what wid dysentery and rheumatiz there's little or nothin' o' me left, so I'm obleeged to contint myself wid gatherin' the black sand, and sellin' it as a substitute for emery."

"Well, that is a queer dodge," said the miner, with a laugh.

"True for ye, it is quare, but it's what I'm redooced to, so av you'll be so kind as plaze to blow the sand on to this here tray, it'll be doin' a poor man a good turn, an' costin' ye nothin'."

He held up a tin tray as he spoke, and the miner cheerfully blew the sand off his gold-dust on to it.

Thanking him with all the fervour peculiar to his race, the Irishman emptied the sand into his bag, and heaving a heavy sigh, left the hut to request a similar favour of other miners.

"You may depend on it," said Frank, as the old man went out, "that fellow is humbugging you. It is gold, not sand, that he wants."

"That's a fact," said Joe Graddy, with an emphatic nod and wink.

"Nonsense," said the miner, "I don't believe we lose more than a few specks in blowing off the sand—certainly nothing worth speaking of."

The man was wrong in this, however, for it was afterwards discovered that the sly old fellow carried his black sand to his hut, and there, every night, by the agency of quicksilver, he extracted from the sand double the average of gold obtained by the hardest working miner in the Canon!

At each end of this place there was a hut made of calico stretched on a frame of wood, in which were sold brandy and other strong liquors of the most abominable kind, at a charge of about two shillings for a small glass! Cards were also to be found there by those who wished to gamble away their hard-earned gains or double them. Places of iniquity these, which abounded everywhere throughout the diggings, and were the nightly resort of hundreds of diggers, and the scene of their wildest orgies on the Sabbath-day.

Leaving the Great Canon, our travellers—we might almost term them inspectors—came to a creek one raw, wet morning, where a large number of miners where at work. Here they resolved to spend the day, and test the nature of the ground. Accordingly, the vaquero was directed to look after the mules while Frank and Joe went to work with pick, shovel, and pan.

They took the "dirt" from a steep incline considerably above the winter level of the stream, in a stratum of hard bluish clay, almost as hard as rock, with a slight surface-covering of earth. It yielded prodigiously. At night they found that they had washed out gold to the value of forty pounds sterling! The particles of gold were all large, many being the size of a grain of corn, with occasional nuggets intermixed, besides quartz amalgamations.

"If this had been my first experience o' them there diggin's," said Joe Graddy, as he smoked his pipe that night in the chief gambling and drinking store of the place, "I would have said our fortin wos made, all but. Hows'ever, I don't forget that the last pair o' boots I got cost me four pound, an' the last glass o' brandy two shillin's—not to speak o' death cuttin' an' carvin' all round, an' the rainy season a-comin' on, so it's my advice that we 'bout ship for home as soon as may be."

"I agree with you, Joe," said Frank, "and I really don't think I would exchange the pleasure I have derived from journeying through this land, and sketching the scenery, for all the gold it contains. Nevertheless I would not like to be tempted with the offer of such an exchange!—Now, I'll turn in."

Next morning the rain continued to pour incessantly, and Frank Allfrey had given the order to get ready for a start, when a loud shouting near the hut in which they had slept induced them to run out. A band of men were hurrying toward the tavern with great haste and much gesticulation, dragging a man in the midst of them, who struggled and protested violently.

Frank saw at a glance that the prisoner was his former companion Bradling, and that one of the men who held him was the stranger who had been so badly wounded by him at the camp-fire, as formerly related.

On reaching the tavern, in front of which grew a large oak-tree—one of the limbs of which was much chafed as if by the sawing of a rope against it—the stranger, whose comrades called him Dick, stood up on a stump, and said—

"I tell you what it is, mates, I'm as sure that he did it as I am of my own existence. The man met his death at the hands of this murderer Bradling; ha! he knows his own name, you see! He is an escaped convict."

"And what are you?" said Bradling, turning on him bitterly.

"That is no man's business, so long as I hurt nobody," cried Dick passionately. "I tell you," he continued, addressing the crowd, which had quickly assembled, "I found this fellow skulking in the bush close to where the body was found, and I know he did it, because he all but murdered me not many months ago, and there," he continued, with a look of surprise, pointing straight at our hero, "is a man who can swear to the truth of what I say!"

All eyes were at once turned on Frank, who stepped forward, and said—

"I can certainly testify to the fact that this man Bradling did attempt to shoot the man whom you call Dick, but I know nothing about the murder which seems to have been perpetrated here, and—"

"It's a young feller as was a quiet harmless sort o' critter," said one of the bystanders, "who was found dead under a bush this morning with his skull smashed in; and it's my opinion, gentlemen, that, since this stranger has sworn to the fact that Bradling tried to murder Dick, he should swing for it."

"I protest, gentlemen," said Frank energetically, "that I did not swear at all! I did not even say that Bradling tried to murder anybody: on the contrary, I think the way in which the man Dick handled his gun at the time when Bradling fired was very susp—"

A shout from the crowd drowned the remainder of this speech.

"String him up without more ado," cried several voices.

Three men at once seized Bradling, and a rope was quickly flung over the bough of the oak.

"Mercy! mercy!" cried the unhappy man, "I swear that I did not murder the man. I have made my pile down at Bigbear Gully, and I'll give it all—every cent—if you will wait to have the matter examined. Stay," he added, seeing that they paid no heed to him, "let me speak one word, before I die, with Mr Allfrey. I want to tell him where my gold lies hid."

"It's a dodge," cried one of the executioners with a sneer, "but have your say out. It's the last you'll have a chance to say here, so look sharp about it."

Frank went forward to the man, who was trembling, and very pale, and begged those who held him to move off a few paces.

"Oh! Mr Allfrey," said Bradling, "I am innocent of this; I am an escaped convict, it is true, and I did try to kill that man Dick, who has given me provocation enough, God knows, but, as He shall be my judge at last, I swear I did not commit this murder. If you will cut the cords that bind my hands, you will prevent a cold-blooded murder being committed now. You saved my life once before. Oh! save it again."

The man said all this in a hurried whisper, but there was 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 a tree, under which, he said, his gold was hid. We thought at first that he was raving, but after he was dead we went to the tree, and there, sure enough, we found the gold, just as he had described it, and, on weighing it, found that it amounted to the sum I have named—so, Mr Allfrey, I guess that I may congratulate you on your good fortune. But come, I will show you the will and the witnesses."

Saying this he led them into the store, where he showed the will to Frank and Joe, who were at first sceptical, and afterwards began to doubt the evidence of their senses. But when the witnesses were called, and had confirmed Jeffson's statements, and, above all, when the bags of gold-dust and nuggets were handed over to him, Frank could no longer question the amazing fact that he had suddenly come into possession of a comfortable fortune!

Need we say, reader, that he insisted on sharing it with Joe Graddy, without whose prompt and vigorous aid the rescue of Bradling could not have been effected? and need we add that the two friends found their way to the sea-coast as quickly as possible, and set sail for England without delay? We think not. But it may be as well to state that, on his arrival in England, Frank found his old uncle in a very sour condition of mind indeed, having become more bilious and irascible than ever over his cash-books and ledgers,—his own special diggings—without having added materially to his gold.

When Frank made his appearance, the old gentleman was very angry, supposing that he had returned to be a burden and a bore to him, but, on learning the true state of the case, his feelings towards his successful nephew were wonderfully modified and mollified!

It was very difficult at first to convince him of the truth of Frank's good fortune, and he required the most incontestable proofs thereof before he would believe. At length, however, he was convinced, and condescended to offer his nephew his hearty congratulations.

"Now, uncle," said Frank, "I shall build a house somewhere hereabouts, and live beside you."

"You could not do better," said the old gentleman, who became suddenly and wonderfully amiable!

"And I don't intend to bother myself with business, uncle."

"Quite right, my boy; you have no occasion to do so."

"But I intend to devote much of my time to painting."

"A most interesting occupation," said the tractable old gentleman.

"And a good deal of it, also," continued Frank, "to the consideration of the cases of persons in sickness and poverty."

"H'm! a most laudable purpose, though it has always appeared to me that this is a duty which devolves upon the guardians of the poor. Nevertheless the intention is creditable to you; but I am surprised to hear you, who are so young, and can have seen so little of poverty or sickness, talk of giving much of your time to such work."

"You are wrong, uncle, in supposing that I have seen little. During my wanderings in foreign lands I have seen much, very much, of poverty and sickness, and have felt something of both, as my friend Joe Graddy can testify."

Joe, who was sitting by, and had been listening to the conversation with much interest, bore testimony forthwith, by stoutly asserting that "that was a fact," and slapping his thigh with great vehemence, by way of giving emphasis to the assertion.

"The fact is, sir," continued Joe, kindling with enthusiasm, "that your nephy has gone through a deal o' rough work since he left home, an' I'm free for to say has learned, with myself, a lot o' walooable lessons. He has made his fortin at the gold-mines, kooriously enough, without diggin' for it, an' has come for to know that it's sometimes possible to pay too high a price for that same metal, as is proved by many an' many a lonely grave in the wilds of Californy. Your nephy an' me, sir, has comed to the conclusion that distributin' gold is better than diggin' for it, so we intends to set up in that line, an' hopes that your honour will go into pardnership along with us."

Mr Allfrey, senior, received Joe's invitation with a benignant and patronising smile, but he did not accept it, neither did he give him any encouragement to suppose that he sympathised with his views on that subject. There is reason to believe, however, that his opinions on this head were somewhat modified in after years. If report speaks truly, he came to admit the force of that text in Scripture which says, that as it is certain man brings nothing into the world, so he takes nothing out of it, and that therefore it was the wisest policy to do as much good with his gold as he could while he possessed it.

Acting on these convictions, it is said, he joined the firm of Allfrey and Graddy, and, making over his cash-books and ledgers to the "rising generation," fairly and finally, like his new partners, renounced his ancient habit of digging for gold.

THE END.