"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 reechoed 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 reechoed 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.



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.