The Rambler Club's Gold Mine by W. Crispin Sheppard - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXIII
GOLD!

"Unk and Wanna!" cried Tim, incredulously. "Get out, Bob; you can't stuff me!"

"Or me, either!"

"A mighty poor joke!"

"Didn't think that o' you, Somers!"

"Here; look for yourself, Jack!" retorted Bob.

The big lad eagerly seized the field-glass and raised it to his eyes.

"I'm dreamin'—I know I'm dreamin'," he mumbled. "Next minute I'll wake up an' find myself in the cabin. Booney, is breakfast ready?"

"It's sartingly Lovell an' the Injun, when he gabs like that," commented Cap Slater. "Wal, if this hyar ain't nuff ter make a catfish act perlite to a cat I ain't never been scratched by a bramble!"

"Whoop!" cried Dick, delightedly. "Wonder what in thunder it all means?"

"Unk an' Wanna!" murmured Tim. "It—it—well, I give it up."

"Come ahead, fellows!"

Bob cracked his quirt, and the next instant the bronchos were galloping at a reckless rate over the uneven surface.

By degrees the two distant specks began to assume the familiar forms of Mr. Lovell and the aged warrior. Then a deep-throated bay rose above the sound of flying hoofs.

Bubbling over with joy and excitement, the boys gave a chorus of yells; again came a deep bay from the Great Dane, and an answering shout from Uncle Stanley.

Fast as the horses galloped, it was not fast enough to suit the impatient riders. It seemed as though the intervening space would never be covered, and a feeling of relief shot through them as they saw the horsemen begin to canter in their direction.

"Unk—I say, Unk, is that really you?" called out Tim. "I can't believe it's true, even now."

"Yes, Tim; and I'm mighty glad, as well as relieved, to see you, all safe and sound. How are you, captain?"

With the skill of cowboys, the seven brought their bronchos close alongside the two men, while the Great Dane, still uttering his musical bays, capered wildly about.

Amid the confusion, the din of questions and answers, and the stamping of horses' hoofs, Wanatoma, the aged warrior, sat dignified and silent, though the brightening of his eyes told of a feeling of satisfaction.

"Now, Lovell, I'm a-waitin' ter find out what all this means."

The captain's big voice boomed out above the others.

"Wanna, old boy, this is certainly a great surprise."

Jack had ridden up close to the Indian, and was energetically shaking hands.

"Quick, Uncle Stanley, do tell us something," pleaded Tim. "Have you seen those lumberjacks? Do you know what Bob Somers thinks?"

"Boys, boys, give me a chance," laughed Mr. Lovell. "Order, order! Now, Bob, what is your idea?"

"That the men have staked out the wrong place."

Wanatoma, with an approving glance, nodded.

"The white boy is keen, like Indian brave," he said, slowly.

"Then—then do you really mean to say Bob is right?" stammered Tim, with a great flash of hope. "Quick, Uncle Stanley, tell us."

"We have already staked out the Rambler Club's Gold Mine!"

A silence far more impressive than the wildest demonstration could have been followed this amazing announcement. The boys stared at one another, then at the lumberman, and from him to Wanatoma.

"I felt sure of it," said Bob, at length, with a great sigh of relief.

"Just to think of the luck," mumbled Tim.

"Honest, it seems too good to be true," chirped Tom, breathlessly.

"Sartingly beats all creation, that's what it does," remarked Cap Slater, in a tone of positive conviction.

"And—and did you really find gold?" asked Sam.

"The rocks are filled with specks that glitter like the sun," said Wanatoma. "Come, you shall see. Indian's work is done; he is content."

A certain pathos in his voice stilled a wild burst of enthusiasm. The redman, whose once powerful shoulders were bent by the weight of years, presented a picturesque spectacle. Long hair fell loosely over his blanketed shoulders; an eagle feather fluttered in the breeze; age had dimmed the luster of his eyes and lined his face with deep-set wrinkles, but the dignity of the warrior still remained.

"Wal, Wanna, yer the whitest Injun the rain ever beat ag'in," remarked Cap Slater, breaking in upon the silence. "Shake!"

He urged his mustang forward and leaned over.

The gruff old lumberman and the Indian clasped hands. One by one, the boys followed his example; then, with a "Come ahead, boys," Mr. Lovell cracked his quirt and was off.

Their ride, which was not long, took them through a narrow gorge between two low hills. From this they emerged upon a vast level plain, dotted with great clumps of evergreens.

"Aha! There's another bend in Gold Creek! See it?" cried Bob.

"Well, I should say so," shouted Tim, excitedly. "My, what a head you have, Bob Somers. Can it be—can it actually be there? Oh, ginger! Quick—tell us, Uncle Stanley."

Mr. Lovell waved his hand, taking a sweep of the rugged slope and level stretch at its base.

"Boys—The Rambler Club's Gold Mine!"

"Hooray—hooray!" yelled Bob; and the shout which blended in with his grew in volume until old Cap Slater himself seemed affected by the fever of excitement.

Presently quirts were given a final crack; the bronchos leaped forward, and, in another moment, the crowd caught sight of a lean-to near the base of the mountain and in the shelter of a pine woods.

Soon they dropped from the saddle before it.

The efforts of each to be the first to see the interior resulted in considerable confusion, which Jack straightened out in his usual way, Tim and Dick flying off at a tangent.

But there was too much suppressed excitement for the fun to continue long. Hearts were beating fast, and their eyes sparkled.

Wanatoma seized a pick and shovel resting in a corner.

"Come," he said, laconically.

Skirting around the woods, he led the way up the slope, showing a flash of his old-time strength and agility. They scrambled after him, over turf and rocks, Mr. Lovell and Captain Slater bringing up in the rear. It was hard work for the ex-skipper, who grunted and puffed with the exertion.

At a considerable distance from the base, the Indian halted, while the boys, eager and excited, surrounded him.

"Great Scott! to think it's actually here!" murmured Bob.

"Wow! Isn't it grand?" piped Tom, with an almost irresistible desire to break into a wild fit of laughter.

After a few moments' rest, Wanatoma raised his pick, and began the attack. Soon quartz was disclosed. Under the vigorous blows, several pieces were broken off, and rattled downward.

But none got very far—eager hands pounced upon them.

"Gold—gold!" yelled Jack, hilariously, as he held up a chunk and waved it back and forth, to show a number of gleaming specks. "Gold! See, fellows—gold! an' piles of it!"

In a wild burst of enthusiasm, he seized the pick from the Indian's hands, and attacked the ground with furious strokes. Every blow sent a shower of earth and stones and small pieces of quartz flying in the air and over the slope.

With the perspiration standing out on his face, Jack worked away; and when he presently flung aside his pick and knelt beside a pile of quartz which the others had collected, Tim seized it.

As the boys saw outcroppings of gold, they gave vent to their feelings in sibilant shouts. They scrambled still higher up the slope, where the rocks rose in miniature cliffs, tufted with weeds and vegetation, or crowned by bristling prickly pears.

Those who hadn't picks or shovels dug at the surface with stones and sticks, exposing in places the underlying strata of quartz. Small landslides whizzed continuously down. Tom slipped, and rolled until a jutting rock stopped his progress. Jack, too, in a reckless attempt to scale an almost perpendicular wall, lost his footing, and went sliding and bumping in another direction, to pick himself up with a hilarious shout.

But the boys, now in the full grip of the gold fever, paid no attention to these mishaps. From one point to another they climbed, the sharp clink of the pick blending in with their shouts, as new discoveries were made.

"Never expected to see anythin' like this," cried Jack, exultantly. "When the news gets out, won't it make a sensation?"

"The California rush o' forty-nine'll be beaten to a frazzle," laughed Tim.

"And the Klondike forgotten," chirruped Tom.

Again Jack seized the pick, and began to dig frantically. Then, as if suddenly awestruck at the thought of the wealth which might lay hidden beneath the frowning slopes, he straightened up.

"Isn't it wonderful!" he exclaimed, softly.

"Oh, ho!" said Dave Brandon. "I almost have an inspiration for a poem on gold."

The violence of the excitement slowly began to abate. With aching backs and weary arms, they finally flung themselves on the rocks, to take long, deep breaths of cool, refreshing air.

"Now, Uncle Stanley," began Tim.

"Oh, yes; I suppose you are going to tell me that explanations are in order," laughed Mr. Lovell, who had seated himself on a slab of rock.

"That's the idea exactly."

"I have a powerful strong feelin' that the restaurant department ought ter be got a-goin'," observed Cap Slater, bluntly.

"So have I," added Dave.

"Then I proposes an immegiat adjournment," went on the other. "Yarns sound a heap better when ye ain't a-gittin' no wireless signals o' distress."

With a laugh, Bob seconded the motion. Accordingly, the boys rose to their feet, and, in a lively fashion, began scrambling down the slope.

A fire was built, and willing hands kept gathering fuel until a great pile rested in front of the lean-to. While the meal was cooking, Bob, peeping inside, caught sight of a pile of snow-shoes.

"Hello, Wanna," he said; "think you'll need those things?"

The Indian nodded and pointed to the gray sky overhead.

"Yes; soon a heap big snow," he answered, slowly.

When appetites were finally satisfied, and all were content, Mr. Lovell, with the boys forming a circle about him, began again:

"Our friend here"—he indicated the lumberman—"has no doubt told you how he brought me very disquieting news."

"Disquietin' nuff ter make this old salt holler."

"Well, I felt that you must be intercepted at all hazards. The Portland steamer was due to pass that afternoon, so my little sailboat, the 'Penguin,' was hastily made ready. There was a good, stiff wind, and Joe Waller succeeded in putting me aboard the 'Evergreen State.'"

"An' maybe it didn't s'prise us to see you on a real, nautical steamboat," gurgled Jack, with a wink at Tom.

"And all my efforts and the megaphone combined couldn't make you understand?"

"Not a word," said Bob.

"Well, it may be for the best, after all. Naturally, I expected Don Mason to land you at Wild Oak; but weather sometimes alters plans. We arrived in due course at Rawdon, and I immediately hurried back to Wild Oak, expecting to meet you there.

"My disappointment was great on realizing that the 'Osprey' had sailed by. It was absolutely necessary for me to return to the lumber camp that night. What should I do? An answer suggested itself—leave a note at the post-office."

"And did you?" cried Tim.

"Yes; I thought possibly you might think of going there."

"Well, we certainly didn't," said Bob, cheerfully.

"So it seems," laughed Uncle Stanley. "Anyway, I was obliged to hire a rig and leave immediately."

"Wonder how it was we didn't meet somewhere on the road," mused Dick.

"The driver told me we could save time by taking another route."

"Another route?" queried Tim.

"Yes; one which, while not so good as the main thoroughfare, takes a short cut through the woods. As it was, I barely had time to catch the steamer.

"Wanatoma was at the camp; and the story of the lumberjacks' visit to his cabin determined us to follow you."

"It was certainly a dandy thing to do," said Tim.

"A great deal of important business had to be left to Warrington. We bought horses at Rawdon—"

"Not from that 'ere livin' checkerboard, I s'picion," broke in Cap Slater, with a gruff laugh.

"Oh, no!" Mr. Lovell smiled. "We made no attempt to follow your trail, as both Wanatoma and I thought it wiser to push on with all possible speed to the mine, stake it out, and then keep a sharp watch for your coming. What's that, Dick—did we know the lumberjacks had arrived? Oh, yes; and it made us very nervous about you, indeed."

"Glad to see us, I'll bet," piped Tom.

"I don't think I was ever more relieved in my life," confessed Uncle Stanley. "If you hadn't come to-day, Wanatoma proposed starting off on a search."

"Oh, ho," laughed Dave, "you need never have any fear about us."

"The next thing is to get back to civilization and file a formal claim with the government," went on Mr. Lovell. "Wanatoma has most kindly agreed to stay here; and, of course, boys, you will show your skill as carpenters by building him a comfortable cabin."

"Well, we will—I should rather say so!" cried Bob, enthusiastically. "Jolly fun, too!"

"You bet," agreed Dick. "Hooray! An' we'll make him a good one."

"And say, boys, I move we call this 'The Jabberwock Mine,'" grinned Jack.

"Wal," commented the captain, rising to stretch his arms and legs, "if this hain't been an ewentful day, I never fired a lazy logger."

The next few days were busy ones for the seven. The sound of saws and axes reverberated sharply in the woods, and the sturdy little bronchos were used to drag fallen trees to the site of the cabin.

Mr. Lovell was a little fearful, after looking over some extraordinary drawings made by Jack Conroy, that the boys had laid out for themselves a whole winter's work; but, by carefully avoiding any reference to these interesting documents, Bob, as engineer, succeeded in having constructed a strong, commodious cabin. Bunks and benches were built along the walls, and perhaps no architect of a world-famed structure ever felt more proud of his work than did the boys when the cabin was completed.

Buck James and Bart Reeder wandered over, one day, to get the surprise of their lives.

Buck was just as imposing as ever, but his expression indicated a subdued and disconsolate spirit.

"From what I hear, you fellers seem to win out every time," he remarked. "Weren't that claim no good? ye ask. Wal, there was one or two spots whar the rocks showed a few specks o' yaller, but that was all."

"Maybe that suit o' yourn drived the gold away, sir," remarked Cap Slater, casually.

Buck James scowled, but paid no attention to this observation.

"We had sense nuff to soon see thar weren't nuthin' worth while at that claim, but Smull an' Griffin"—he made a deprecating gesture—"couldn't be dragged away. An' Smull told us to chase back to the lumber camp if we didn't like it."

Captain Slater guffawed loudly.

"So we leaves 'em, and, arter prospectin' about to the east, finds sumphin a bit better, an' put up location notices."

"An' where are Smull an' Griffin now?" asked Tim.

Buck James seemed to bristle up.

"Wal, would ye believe it, arter all our trouble, they comes up at last, says as how they hadn't been able to find no more yaller streaks, an', cool as ye please, says they was comin' in with us ag'in."

"An' did you let 'em?"

"We did not!" snorted Buck James, his capacious chest swelling out with indignation. "'Nuthin' like that,' says I. They gits huffy—so does we, eh, Reeder?—an' arter two minutes o' talkin' that ye could have heard fur a mile, we chases 'em."

"An' I guess they know better'n ter ever come back," added Reeder.

Wanatoma patted the Great Dane's head.

"Ugh! It is well," he said, "for they have the spirit of the coyote, who sinks his fangs into his wounded mate."

"I reckon as how checkers ain't sich a bad feller when ye gits ter know 'im," commented Cap Slater, after the two men had gone. "Lovell, the air's gittin' sharper, eh?"

"Yes, captain!"

"An' to-morrer we uns leave Wanna all ter his lonesome. Wal, I s'picion as how some o' us'll git back ag'in afore long."

They were standing around a fire built just outside the cabin. Chilly gusts of wind made the flames crackle and roar, while showers of embers carried off on the breeze danced briskly along over the rocky surface which extended before them. A gray canopy of cloud stretched overhead.

The wind, increasing in force, whistled around the corners of the cabin, its mournful cadence rising high above the sighing of the pines.

"And just to think," remarked Dave, softly, "how soon the scene must change—I mean our scene. Instead of the wilderness and life in the open, it will be the Kingswood High School and hard study."

"But spring and vacation time will come again," said Tom. "I do wonder, Dave, what you will have a chance to write about next?"

"You may be sure that, as historian of the Rambler Club, my services will be required to describe some very interesting and exciting adventures, eh, Bob?"

And Bob agreed.

END