N the following morning, to the astonishment of the miners of Cedar Camp, Frank and his companions took their tools out of their claims and shifted to the claims of the two men of the "solitary tent." Every one asked himself what could be the meaning of this move, and the general supposition was that they must have discovered that the two men had struck upon rich ground. Scores of miners sauntered across during the day, looked on, and asked a question or two; but the answers they obtained threw no light upon the mystery. The ground looked most unpromising; it was a flat some ten feet above the level of the river-bed, and the spot where they were digging was twenty yards from the edge.
Fifteen yards further back the ground rose abruptly to a height of thirty or forty feet; the ground around was covered with bushes, through which a few good-sized trees rose. The two men had dug through two feet of alluvial soil, and about five feet of sand. Altogether, it was a place which seemed to afford no promise whatever; and although, at the first impulse, some miners who were doing badly had marked out claims next to those staked out[307] by Frank and his party, no steps were taken to occupy them.
The first day was spent in getting out planks and lining the proposed shaft, which was made much smaller than the hole already dug, which extended over the whole of the two claims. The next day a windlass was put in position, and the work began in earnest. At the depth of twenty feet they came upon gravel, a result which greatly raised their spirits, as its character was precisely similar to that in the bed of the stream, and showed that Frank's conjecture was a correct one, and that the river had at one time flowed along the foot of the high ground beyond.
When it was known in camp that the party were getting up gravel, there was a great deal of talk. Some of the older hands came and examined the place, and, noticing the sharp curve in the opposite bank above, concluded, as Frank had done, that instead of being, as was generally supposed, beyond the edge of the old river-bed, it was by no means improbable that the party were working over what was at one time a point which was swept by the main body of water coming down.
More claims were staked out, and although no one had any intention of beginning in earnest until they discovered what luck attended the party who were sinking the shaft, just enough was done each day to retain possession of the claims. Before they had gone far into the gravel they discovered specks of gold, and, washing a basinful from time to time, found that it was fairly rich, certainly as good as any that had been found a few feet below the surface of the ground at any other spot in the camp. They determined, however, not to wash at present,[308] but to pile the stuff near the mouth of the shaft, to be washed subsequently, and to continue to sink steadily.
A fortnight after the work had begun, the old man had gained sufficient strength to make his way across to the shaft, and after that he spent his whole time watching the progress of the work. His tent was brought over and pitched close at hand. By this time, as their prospects really looked good, Jim had told him the true history of the nugget he had brought home, and how much they owed to Frank; and he so far overcame his shrinking from intercourse with his neighbours, as to become really cordial with Frank, who, when supper was over, often strolled across and smoked a pipe with Jim in the tent.
Frank often wondered what could have brought a man of some sixty years of age, and evidently well educated, and a gentleman, but, as was equally clear, wholly unfitted by age, habits, and constitution for rough labour in such a country as that. The son had not denied that he was English, but as he had not admitted it in so many words, Frank thought that his father might object to any questions on the subject, and in their many conversations the past was seldom alluded to.
Turk, who was Frank's constant companion, took remarkably to the old man, and in the daytime, when the latter was sitting watching the baskets coming up from below, generally took up his position by him, sometimes lying blinking lazily in the sun, at other times sitting up and watching the operations gravely, as if he were thoroughly aware of their importance.
While the ground was still unpromising, Frank and his party had bought up, for a few dollars, the claims of several of the men who had staked out ground next to[309] their own, and now held six on either side of the claim they were sinking on. Beyond these, as soon as the gravel was known to contain gold, other miners began to work—for the most part in parties, as the depth at which paying ground lay beneath the surface was so great that it could only be reached by joint labour—and the flat so long neglected now became one of the busiest points in the camp.
"The gravel is getting richer and richer every day," Frank said to the elder Adams, five weeks after they began work. "I think now it would be as well to hire half a dozen men to carry it down to the stream and wash it there; you could superintend them, and one of us will work at the cradle. The stuff will pay splendidly now, I am sure, and there's a big heap on the bank."
"If you think so, by all means let us do so," the old man said. "I should like to begin to get some gold; we are in your debt more than a hundred dollars already, since you have been advancing money for our living as the work has gone on."
"There is no hurry on that account," Frank said. "Ever since we washed the first pail of gravel it has been evident that there was at least sufficient gold to pay for washing out, and that my advances were perfectly safe; so there is no hurry on that account. But at present it has so improved that it would be rich enough to pay really well; besides, we shall be getting it stolen. I fancy last night two or three buckets-full were taken away at that edge of the bank; and as there has been a perfect rush for staking out claims to-day, I have no doubt that it was found to pan out very rich."
The result of the first day's washing more than realised[310] their anticipations, for when the cradle was cleared up over fifty ounces of gold were found at the bottom; and at the end of three days the old man paid Frank and his party their wages at four dollars a day each from the time they had commenced working at the shaft.
Another fortnight and they reached the bed rock. Each day the find had become heavier, but the climax was reached when they touched the rock. It was found that just where they reached the bottom, the rock which formed the bank bordering the flat came down almost perpendicularly to the level rock which had formed the old bed of the stream. This was worn perfectly smooth by the action of the water, and in the bed rock was a great caldron scooped out by an eddy of the stream. This was filled up with gravel, among which nuggets of gold were lying thickly; and when its contents were taken to the surface and separated, the gold was found to weigh over three thousand ounces. The lower part of the ground was then dug out to the full size of the claim, and when all this was washed it was found that the total amount of gold obtained from the claim was over six thousand ounces.
As the work went on from day to day, Frank observed a gradual change coming over the elder of the two men. At first he had been excited, and at times irritable; but as each day showed increased returns, and it became a moral certainty that the claim was going to turn out extremely rich, the excitement seemed to pass away. He talked less, and spent less of his time in watching the work going on, sometimes not even coming down to watch the clear-up at the end of the day's work. Even the discovery of the rich pocket in the rock scarcely seemed to stir him.[311] His son, upon the contrary, made no secret of his satisfaction at the fortune which was falling to them. He shook off the reserve which had at first distinguished him; a weight of care seemed to fall from his shoulders, and his spirits became at times almost exuberant.
At first he had looked to Frank almost a middle-aged man, although his face and figure showed that he could not be many years his own senior; now he looked almost like a schoolboy, so full was he of life and spirits. The old man had taken much to Frank, and although during the latter part of the time he had talked but little, he liked him to come into the tent every evening to smoke a pipe and chat with his son. He had several times endeavoured to draw from Frank his reason for leaving England and coming out to California at an age when many lads are still at school; but he had obtained no reply to his hints, for Frank did not care to enter upon the story of that incident at Westminster.
The evening when the claims had been worked out, and the last cradle washed out, the old man asked Frank to bring Abe and his companions to the tent after they had had their supper. The tent showed little signs of the altered circumstances of its owners; a few more articles of cheap crockery and a couple of folding chairs were the only additions that had been made. Some boxes had been brought in now to serve as seats, and on one in the centre were placed half a dozen bottles of champagne, which the young man proceeded to open.
"My friends," the elder said, "I am going away to-morrow, and I trust that your claims will turn out every bit as rich as ours has done."
"Even if they don't turn out as rich," Frank said, "there[312] is no fear of their not turning out well. We consider we have made a capital bargain with you; we have been paid by you for our work in sinking the shaft, and now it will be easy for us to work our claims. It was a lucky day for us when we made that contract to sink your shaft."
"I am glad you think so, and very glad that you are likely to share my luck; still, I feel greatly indebted to you. It was a bargain, of course, but it was a bargain in which you were taking all the risk. There is, as you say, every probability of your claims turning out well; but there's no certainty in gold-mining, and at any rate we cannot go away with a fortune without feeling that, to some small extent at least, you will participate in it. Therefore I here hand you over each a bag with a hundred ounces of gold, so that, come what may, your time and labour here will not have been thrown away. You will not, I hope, pain me by refusing," he said, seeing that the men looked doubtfully at each other. "We owe it all to you, for when you threw in your lot with us we were desperate and starving."
"Wall, if you put it in that way, I don't see that we can say no, mate," Abe said, "though we are well content with our look-out, I can tell you, and could get a biggish sum for our claims to-night if we were disposed to sell them. Still, what you says is true, though it isn't every one who makes a good thing out of a bargain as is ready to go beyond it. It was a fortunate day for you may be that you fell in with my mate here, and it was a fortunate day for us when he fell in with you. When I goes back east and settles down on a farm I has got my eyes on, I shall always say as I owed my luck to my[313] mate strolling over to talk to the two men as was working what seemed a hopeless claim in Cedar Camp.
"Wall, I suppose you are going back with your pile to the old country. I can only say as we wish you good luck thar, and plenty of enjoyment out of your money. Here's luck."
The miners all emptied their glasses, and then, shaking hands with father and son, filed out of the tent. Frank was about to follow them when he was stopped by a gesture from the old man. He had not liked accepting the present, but he did not wish to act differently from his comrades, and he saw that his refusal would really hurt the donor.
"Sit down a bit, lad," he said; "James is going to the camp to get a few things for our journey to-morrow, and I shall be alone, and now that it's all over I feel the reaction. It has been an exciting time the last month."
"It has indeed," Frank agreed, "and I have often thought to myself what a comfort it was that they had established a regular way of sending down gold twice a week with an escort; it would have been terrible if you had had to keep all that gold by you."
"Yes, I often thought so myself, and your offer to keep the gold in your tent on the days when the escort wasn't going was a great relief to me."
"It was safe enough with us," Frank said. "No one would venture to try a tent with a pretty strong party; but with only your son and yourself there might have been a temptation to some broken-down gambler to carry it off. Besides, we have Turk as a guard, and I don't fancy any one would venture to try any tricks with our tent while he is inside it."[314]
"Well, I hope it will be your turn now," the old man said, "and that before another two months are over you too will be setting out on your way home with what your friend called your pile."
"I shall not be doing that," Frank said; "whatever we find, I have no thought of going back to England."
"No? Well, lad, I don't want your confidence if you would rather not give it; but I will tell you my story, and perhaps when you have heard it you may be the more inclined to tell me yours. It is a painful story to tell, but that is part of my punishment; and you, lad, have a right to hear it, for I know that it is to you I owe my life, and that it is through you that I am to-morrow going home to do all that I can to retrieve my fault, and to wipe out the stain on my name. I was a solicitor, with a good practice, in a town of the west of England,—it does not matter what it's name was. I lost my wife, and then, like a fool, I took to drink. No one knew it except my son, for I never went out in the evening, but would sit at home drinking by myself till I could scarce stagger up to bed.
"He did all that he could to persuade me to give it up, but it had got too strong a hold upon me. At last we quarrelled over it, and he left the house, and henceforth we only met at the office. He was engaged to be married to the daughter of our Vicar. When the crash came—for in these cases a crash is sure to come sooner or later—the business had fallen off, and a bill was presented for payment which I had altogether forgotten I had signed. Then there was an investigation into my affairs. I could help but little, for there were but few hours in the day now when my brain was clear enough to attend to any business whatever. Then it was found that ten thousand pounds which[315] had been given me to invest by one of my clients had never been invested, and that it was gone with the rest.
"I had not intended to do anything dishonest, that even now I can affirm. I had intended to invest it, but in my muddled state put off doing so, and had gone on paying the interest as if it had been invested as ordered. When I knew that I had not enough in the bank to replace it, I went into foolish speculations to regain what I had lost; but until the crash came I had never fairly realised that I had not only ruined myself but was a swindler. I shall never forget the morning when James, who had been up all night going through my papers with my head-clerk, came down and told me what he had discovered. I was still stupid from what I had drunk overnight, but that sobered me. I need not tell you what passed between my son and me. I swore never to touch liquor again. He sold out of consols five thousand pounds which he had inherited from his mother, and handed it over to the man I had defrauded, giving him his personal bond that he would repay the rest of the money, should he live; and on those terms my client agreed to abstain from prosecuting me, and to maintain an absolute silence as to the affair.
"Then Jim broke off his engagement, and took passages for us in a sailing ship for Panama, and so on to San Francisco. I need not tell you the struggle it was to keep to my promise; but when Jim had given up everything for me, the least I could do was to fight hard for his sake. My thoughts were always fixed on California, my only hopes that I might live to see the rest of the debt repaid, and the boy's money replaced, so that he could buy a business and marry the woman he loved. I dreamt[316] of it over and over again, and, as I told you, three times I dreamt of the exact spot where we are now sitting.
"Somehow, in my dreams, I knew that if I dug straight down under the old tree that formed the centre of the dream I should find gold. This became a fixed idea with me, and when we reached the gold-fields I never stopped long in camp, so bent was I upon finding the tree of my dreams. Jim bore with me wonderfully. I knew he did not believe in my dream, but he was always ready to go where I wanted. I think now he thought that I was going out of my mind, or feared that if he thwarted me I might take to drink again. However, at last we found the tree—at least I was positive it was the tree of my dreams. James tried to dissuade me from digging in a place which looked so unpromising; but nothing would deter me save death, and you see the result. We shall go back; the debt will be cleared off, Jim will marry his sweetheart, and I shall live with him to the end of my days. He is a grand fellow is Jim, though I dare say it didn't strike you so when you first knew him."
"He is a grand fellow," Frank agreed heartily, "and I am truly glad, Mr. Adams, that all has turned out so well."
"And now, can you tell me something of yourself, Frank? It is to you we owe it that things have turned out well; and if, as I rather guess, you have got into some scrape at home, I can only say that my son and myself will be very glad to share our fortune with you, and to take one-third of it each."
"I thank you greatly, sir, for your generous offer, but it would be of no use to me. I have, as you suspect, got into a scrape at home, but it is from no fault of my own.[317] I have been wrongfully suspected of committing a crime; and until that charge is in some way or other cleared up, and the slur on my name wiped off, I would not return to England if I had a hundred thousand pounds."
"And can nothing be done? Would it be any use whatever to set to work on any line you can suggest? I would make it my own business, and follow up any clue you could give me."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Adams; thank you with all my heart: but nothing can be done, there is nothing to follow. It was not a question of a crime so committed that many outside persons would be interested in it, or that it could be explained in a variety of ways. So far as the case went it was absolutely conclusive, so conclusive that I myself, knowing that I was innocent, could see no flaw in the evidence against myself, nor for months afterwards could I perceive any possible explanation save in my own guilt. Since then I have seen that there is an alternative. It is one so painful to contemplate that I do not allow myself to think of it, nor does it seem to me that even were I myself upon the spot, with all the detective force of England to aid me, I could succeed in proving that alternative to be the true one except by the confession of the person in question.
"If he were capable of planning and carrying out the scheme which brought about my disgrace, he certainly is not one who would under any conceivable circumstances confess what he has done. Therefore, there is nothing whatever to be done in the matter. Years and years hence, if I make a fortune out here, I may go home and say to those whose esteem and affection I have lost, 'I have no more evidence now than I had when I left England to support[318] my simple declaration that I was innocent, but at least I have nothing to gain by lying now. I have made a fortune, and would not touch one penny of the inheritance which would once have been mine. I simply come before you again solemnly to declare that I was innocent, wholly and conclusively as appearances were against me.' It may be that the word of a prosperous man will be believed though that of a disgraced schoolboy was more than doubted."
"And is there no one to whom I could carry the assurance of your innocence?" Mr. Adams asked. "Some one may still be believing in you in spite of appearances. It might gladden some one's heart were I to bear them from your lips this fresh assurance; were I to tell them how you have saved me when all hope seemed lost; were I to tell them how all here speak well of you, and how absolutely I am convinced that some hideous mistake must have been made."
Frank sat for some time silent.
"Yes," he said, at last. "I have a little cousin, a girl, she was like my sister; I hope—I think that, in spite of everything, she may still have believed me innocent. Will you see her and tell her you have seen me? Say no more until you see by her manner whether she believes me to be a rascal or not. If she does, give her no clue to the part of the world where you have come across me; simply say that I wished her to know that I was alive and well. If you see that she still, in spite of everything, believes that I am innocent, then tell her that I affirm on my honour and word that I am innocent, though I see no way whatever of ever proving it; that I do not wish her to tell my uncle she heard from me; that I do[319] not wish her to say one word to him, for that, much as I value his affection, I would not for the world seem to be trying to regain the place he thinks I have forfeited, until I can appear before him as a rich man whom nothing could induce to touch one penny of his money, and who values only his good-will and esteem. That is her name and address."
And Frank wrote on the leaf of his pocket-book, "Alice Hardy, 354 Eaton Square."
"I do not think you will have to deliver the message; it is hardly possible that she should not, as my uncle has done, believe me to be guilty. Still, I do cling to the possibility of it. That is why I hesitate in giving you the commission, for if it fails I shall lose my last pleasant thought of home. If you find she has believed in me, write to me at Sacramento, to the care of Woolfe & Company, of whom I always get my stores. There is no saying where I may be in four or five months' time, for it will take that before I can hear from you. It may be, in that case, she too will write. If she does not believe in me, do not write at all; I shall understand your silence; and, above all, unless you find she believes in me, say no more than that I am alive and well, and give no clue whatever to the part of the world where we have met."
"I will discharge your commission," Mr. Adams said. "But do not be impatient for an answer; I may not find a steamer going down to Panama for some time, and may have to go thence to New York, and thence take a steamer to Europe. I may find on my arrival that the young lady is absent from home, perhaps travelling with her father, and there may be delays."[320]
"My uncle is not her father," Frank said; "she is a ward of his. But I will not be impatient; not for six months will I give up such hope as I have."
"There is one more thing before I say good night," Mr. Adams said. "I have been in great need, and know how hard it is to struggle when luck is against one, and I should like to give a small sum as a sort of thank-offering for the success which has attended me. In a mining camp there must be many whom a little might enable to tide on until luck turns. Will you be my almoner? Here is a bag with a hundred ounces of gold, the last we got to-day from our claim. Will you take it, and from time to time give help in the way of half a sack of flour and other provisions to men who may be down in the world from a run of ill-luck, and not from any fault of their own."
"I will gladly do so," Frank replied; "such a fund as this would enable me to gladden the hearts of scores of men. You can rely upon it, sir, that I will take care to see that it is laid out in accordance with your instructions."
After leaving the tent, Frank found James Adams sitting down on a log a short distance away.
"I would not disturb you," the latter said, "as I thought perhaps you were having a chat with my father—indeed he told me he should like to have a talk with you alone; but I want myself to tell you how conscious I am that I owe my happiness to you. Has my father told you how I am situated, and that I am going home to claim the dearest girl in the world, if, as I hope and believe, I shall find she has waited for me?"
"Your father has told me more," Frank said; "he has[321] told me how nobly you devoted your life to his, and why, and I am truly glad that so much good has come of our meeting. More than that first little help I must disclaim, for it was Abe and not I who believed in your father's dreams, which I confess I had no shadow of belief in, though they have, so unaccountably to me, been verified."
"Nothing you can say, Frank, will minimise what you have done for us. You saved my father's life. If it had not been for you his dream would never have been carried into effect, and he would now be lying in the graveyard on the top of the hill, and I should be working hopelessly as a day labourer. I only want to say, that if at any time you want a friend, you can rely upon James Adams up to the last penny he has in the world."
The next morning Mr. Adams and his son started for San Francisco, and Frank and his party began to work their claims from the bottom of the shaft. Although they paid well, they proved far less rich than they had expected; they got good returns from the gravel, but found no pockets in the bed rock, which was perfectly smooth and even. They found that on either side of the Adams' claims the wall of rock behind swept round; this, no doubt, had caused an eddy at this spot, which had worked out the hole in the bed rock, and caused the deposit of so large a quantity of gold here; and, singularly enough, Mr. Adams' dream had led him to take up the exact spot under which alone the gold had been so largely deposited. The party had taken on several hands, and six weeks sufficed to clear out the paying stuff in their claims, and it was found that, after paying all their expenses, there remained eight hundred ounces of gold; a handsome result, but still very far below what they had[322] reason to expect from the richness of the stuff in the claims lying in the centre of their ground.
This, however, added to the five hundred ounces they had received from Mr. Adams, gave them a total of about a thousand pounds each. They held a consultation on the night of the final clean-up. Two of the party were disposed to return east with their money, but they finally came round to Abe's view.
"A thousand pounds is a nice sum—I don't say it ain't—for less than six months' work; still, to my mind, now we are here, with the chance of doing just as well if we go on, I think it would be a fool's trick to give it up. Five thousand dollars will buy a good farm east, but one could work it with a good deal more comfort and sartainty if one had another five thousand lying in the bank ready to draw upon in case of bad times. We ain't fools; we don't mean to gamble or drink away what we have made; it will just lie in the bank at Sacramento until we want to draw it. If we work another year we may double it, but we can't make it less; we have got our horses still, and I vote we go back to our work as it was before, three of us digging and two carrying. We know that way we can pay our expenses, however bad our luck may be, so thar ain't nothing to loose in sticking to it for a bit longer, and thar may be a lot to gain."
This view prevailed, and in a short time the party moved off to another place; for Cedar Camp was getting deserted, the other claims taken up on the flat had paid their way, but little more, and the men were off to new discoveries, of which they had heard glowing accounts.
For the next two months no marked success attended the labours of Frank and his comrades, they paid their[323] expenses, and that was all. Frank enjoyed the life; he was in no hurry to get rich, and it gave him great pleasure to be able occasionally to give a helping hand to miners whose luck was bad, from the fund with which Mr. Adams had intrusted him. The work was hard, but he scarcely felt it, for his muscles were now like steel, and his frame had widened out until he was as broad and strong as any of his companions, and few would have recognised in him the lad who had shipped on board the Mississippi fifteen months before.