Alger Horatio Jr.
The Young Explorer; Or, Claiming His Fortune
CHAPTER XXI
BEN'S SAVINGS-BANK
It was not till an hour afterward that Ben rose from his lowly couch, and, by dint of violent shaking, succeeded in rousing Bradley.
"Come, Bradley, wake up!" he cried. "The sun is high, and it is time we were on our way."
Bradley stretched himself, took a long breath, and said:
"I must have had a long sleep."
"Yes, you dropped off as soon as you lay down, and have slept ever since."
"And did you sleep as soundly?"
"No, I was awake twice during the night," answered Ben.
"I don't know how it is, but I am sleepy still. Seems to me I don't stand fatigue as well as you. I am sleepy yet, and feel as if I could sleep all the forenoon."
"The effects of the drug," thought Ben.
Ben considered whether he should tell Bradley what had happened during the night. He decided briefly to say a few words about it in a whisper, and postpone a full explanation till later, for their hostess was below, and could hear any loud word that might be uttered. Bradley was instructed that he must claim to have lost five dollars.
"But I had a hundred," said Bradley, feeling in his pockets.
"It's all right," whispered Ben. "I'll explain by and by. Not a word of the loss till after breakfast."
Bradley was quite bewildered, and utterly failed to understand the situation. But he had considerable faith in his young companion, and was willing to follow Ben's instructions. They descended the ladder, Ben in advance.
The woman looked at them sharply, to see if they had yet discovered the robbery, but each seemed unconcerned.
"They don't know it yet," she said to herself.
"Madam, can you give us some breakfast?" asked Ben politely.
"I'll give you such as I have," said Mrs. Carter, feeling a little remorse for her husband's theft, and pity for what she supposed their penniless condition.
"That will be perfectly satisfactory, and we shall be much obliged to you."
The breakfast was nearly ready in anticipation of their needs, and they partook of it heartily.
Now came the critical moment.
Ben thrust his hand into his pocket, appearing to search for his money, and, after a brief space, withdrew it in apparent dismay.
"I can't find my money," he said.
Mrs. Carter's face flushed, but she said nothing. She anticipated their suspicion, and was ashamed.
"Bradley," said Ben, "have you your money?"
Jake Bradley repeated the search, and he, too, expressed surprise.
"I had it when I went to bed," he added.
"What is it?" asked the woman slowly, turning to them a troubled face. "Have you lost anything?"
"I don't seem to find my money, ma'am," answered Bradley.
"Nor I mine," said Ben. "It's curious."
Mrs. Carter could not tell by their manner whether they suspected anything, but she had her story ready. It was an invention, but life with Jack Carter had left her few compunctions about such a simple matter as telling a lie.
"I missed something myself," she said. "We don't lock our door of nights, and I reckon some tramp got in last night, when we were asleep, and robbed us all. Have you lost much, you two?"
"Not much, ma'am. There wasn't much to take."
"It's a pity. I am sorry it happened under my roof. But we slept very sound last night, Jack and me, and that's the way it must have come."
She looked at them critically, to detect, if she could, whether they suspected her husband or herself, but both the travelers were on their guard.
"Did you have much taken, ma'am?" asked Bradley.
"No," she answered hurriedly, rather ashamed of the imposture. "We ain't rich, Jack nor I."
"What I am most sorry for," said Ben, "is that we have nothing to pay for our accommodations."
"You're welcome to your lodging and what you've ate," said the woman sincerely. "And, if you like, I'll put up some luncheon for you to eat by and by."
"Thank you, ma'am, it will be very acceptable," answered Bradley.
"She's better than her husband," thought Ben.
"After all, we haven't lost much, for we shall get nearly the worth of our lost money."
The woman remarked, with some surprise, that they did not take their loss much to heart.
"How do you expect to get along without money?" she could not help asking.
"We're used to roughing it, ma'am," said Bradley. "I'm an old miner, and I think I can find some of my old chums before long."
By this time luncheon was ready, and they soon left the cabin.
Bradley could no longer repress his curiosity.
"Now, Ben, tell me all about it," he said. "Where is our money?"
Ben looked back, to make sure that he would not be overheard, and answered: "I put it in the bank for security, Jake."
"What do you mean?"
"If I am not very much mistaken, we shall find it hidden in a hole in a tree, quarter of a mile away."
"Who put it there?" asked his companion, in surprise.
"I did."
"When?"
"Last night, about midnight, as near as I can guess."
Ben laughed at his companion's evident perplexity, and told him in detail the story of the night's adventure.
"Ben, I'm proud of you," said Bradley, slapping our hero on the back. "There are not many grown men that would have known what to do under the circumstances."
"I confess that I was very much puzzled myself," said Ben modestly.
"I could have done nothing if our honest host hadn't fallen asleep."
"He would feel rather provoked if he knew that nearly all of our money is untouched," said Bradley; "that is, if we find it again."
"There's no fear of that," said Ben. "Do you see that tree yonder?"
"The large one?"
"Yes."
"That is my savings-bank."
They quickened their steps till they reached the stately monarch of the forest. Ben quickly thrust his hand into the cavity and drew out the precious parcel which he had committed to it during the night. It was precisely as he had placed it there. No one had touched it.
"Now," said Ben, "I will give you ninety-five dollars. That is the amount of which I picked your pocket last night."
"You are a pickpocket of the right sort," said his companion. "You took my money in order to save it."
Their money recovered, they started on their day's march, and nightfall found them twenty miles nearer their destination.
CHAPTER XXII
THE ARRIVAL AT MURPHY'S
One morning about eleven o'clock they came in sight of Murphy's. It was only a mining-settlement of the most primitive description. A few tents and cabins, with rough, bearded men scattered here and there, intent upon working their claims, gave it a picturesque appearance, which it has lost now. It was then a more important place than at present, however, for the surface diggings are exhausted, and it is best known-to-day by its vicinity to the famous Calaveras grove of big trees.
"So this is Murphy's?" said Ben, rather disappointed. "It doesn't seem to be much of a place."
"You didn't expect to see a regular town, did you?" asked Bradley.
"I don't know. I hardly knew what to expect. It seems a rough place."
"And I suppose the people seem rough, too?"
"Yes."
"So they are in appearance; but you can't tell what a man has been, by his looks here. Why, the man that worked the next claim to me was a college graduate, and not far away was another who had been mayor of a Western city."
"And were they dressed like these men here?" asked Ben.
"Quite as roughly. It won't do to wear store-clothes at the mines."
"No, I suppose not; but these men look like immigrants just come over."
Bradley laughed.
"Wait till we have been at work a little while, and we shall look no better," he said, laughing.
"What is that?" asked Ben suddenly, stopping short while an expression of horror came over his face.
Bradley followed the direction of his finger, and saw suspended from a tree the inanimate body of a man, the features livid and distorted, and wearing an expression of terror and dismay, as if his fate had come upon him without time for preparation.
"I reckon that's a thief," answered Bradley unconcernedly.
"A thief! Do they hang people for stealing out here?"
"Yes, they have to. You see, my lad, there ain't any laws here, nor courts. If a man steals, the miners just take the matter into their own hands, and if there ain't a doubt of it, they hang him as soon as they catch him."
"It's horrible!" said Ben, who had never before seen the victim of a violent death.
"Maybe it is, but what can we do?"
"Put him in prison," suggested Ben.
"There ain't any prisons, and, if there were, there would be nobody to keep them."
Just then Bradley was hailed by a rough-looking man, whom at home Ben would have taken for a tramp.
"What, Bradley, back again? I didn't expect to see you here?"
"I didn't expect to come, Hunter, but I fooled away my money in 'Frisco, and have come back for more."
"And who's this boy-your son, or nephew?"
"No; he's no kin to me. I ran across him down to 'Frisco. Ben, let me make you acquainted with my old chum, Frank Hunter. He isn't much to look at, but-"
"I have seen better days," interrupted Hunter, smiling. "I was rather a dandy in my college days at old Yale, though I don't look like it now."
Ben regarded him with surprise. He had not dreamed that this sun-brown, bearded man, in the roughest of mining-garbs, had ever seen the inside of a college.
Hunter smiled at the boy's evident surprise.
"I don't look like a college graduate, do I? But I assure you I am not the worst-dressed man in camp. My friend, the mayor, is rougher-looking than I. Some time I hope to return to the haunts of civilization, and then I will try to conform to habits which I have almost forgotten."
"How are you making out, Hunter?" asked Bradley.
"Pretty well. I have made more here in six months than I did by three years' practise of law before I came out here."
"Do you like it as well, Mr. Hunter?" Ben could not help asking curiously.
"No, I don't; but then, it's only for a time, as I say to myself when I get tired of the rough life I am leading. When I've made a respectable pile I shall start for 'Frisco, and take passage home, put up my shingle again, and wait for clients with money enough to pay my board while I'm waiting. A young lawyer needs that always."
"Perhaps you'll be Judge Hunter, in time," said Bradley.
"I've served in that capacity already," said Hunter unexpectedly, "and that not longer ago than yesterday. Do you see that poor wretch up there?" and he pointed to the suspended body already referred to.
"Yes; what did he do?"
"He was a notorious thief-served a term in the penitentiary East for stealing, and came out here to practise his profession. But this climate is unhealthy for gentlemen in that line of business."
"Did he rob anybody here?"
"Yes; you remember Johnson?"
"Is he still here?"
"He is about ready to go home, with money enough to lift the mortgage from his farm. We all knew it, for Johnson was so happy that he took everybody into his confidence. He had all his money tied up in a bag which he kept in his tent.
"Imprudent, of course, but we haven't any banks or safes here," added Hunter, meeting the question in Ben's eyes. "Well, this rascal, Ross, wormed himself into his confidence, found out exactly where the bag was kept, and night before last, in the middle of the night, he crept to the tent, and was in the act of carrying off the bag, when, as luck would have it, my friend, the mayor, who was taking a night walk in the hope of curing a severe headache, came upon him.
"Ross showed fight, but was overpowered, and tied securely till morning. When morning came we tried him, I being judge. He was found guilty, and sentenced to be hung. The sentence was carried into effect in the afternoon. He won't steal any more, I reckon."
Ben took another hasty look at the dangling criminal whose end had been so sudden and horrible, and he shuddered.
"Why don't you take him down?" he asked.
"It was ordered that he hang for twenty-four hours, as a warning to any others in camp who might be tempted to steal. The time isn't up yet.
"You are a young gold-hunter," said Hunter, scanning over hero's youthful face.
"Yes, I am," Ben confessed; "but I had to earn a living, and I thought I could do it better here than at home."
"Are you from the East?"
"I am from Hampton, in New York State."
"I know something of Hampton," said Hunter. "I have never been there; but I have a distant relative living there."
"Who is it?" asked Ben, with interest. "I know everybody there."
"I dare say you know my relative, for I am given to understand that he is the great man of Hampton."
"Mayor Sturgis?"
"Yes, that is his name. He married a cousin of my mother, so the relationship is not very close. He is rich, isn't he?"
"He is the richest man in Hampton."
"I suppose he is aware of that fact," said Hunter, laughing.
"If he isn't, his son, Sam, is," replied Ben. "Sam wanted to engage me as his servant before I came away. He wanted me to black his boots."
"And you objected, I suppose?"
"I wouldn't work for Sam Sturgis for a hundred dollars a month!" said Ben emphatically.
"Then you don't like him?"
"He is very big-feeling," said Ben, using a boy's word, "and likes to boss all the rest of the boys. He thinks he is far above us all."
"He ought to come out here. California takes the airs out of a man if he has any. We are all on an equality here, and the best man wins-I mean the man of the most pluck-for success doesn't depend on moral excellence exactly. Well, old friend, are you going to settle down among us again?"
It was to Bradley this question was addressed.
"I don't know. I'm here on a little matter of business, along of this boy. Is Richard Dewey here now?"
"Dewey? No. He had poor luck, and he dusted a month ago."
Ben and his companion exchanged glances of disappointment.
"Where did he go?" asked Bradley, who was evidently getting discouraged.
"He was going to the mountains," he said. "He had been studying up something about minerals, and he had an idea that he'd find a rich ledge among the Sierras that would pay better than this surface-mining."
"Is there anybody that knows what direction he took?"
"My friend, the mayor, knows as well as any man. Dewey was his next neighbor, and often talked over his plans with him."
"Then we will go and see the mayor."
"No need of going, here he comes."
CHAPTER XXIII
AMONG THE SIERRAS
Ben had heard of mayors, and once he had seen one, a pompous-looking man who had once served in that capacity in an inland city of some twenty thousand inhabitants, and he supposed that all mayors were alike. He could hardly believe his eyes, therefore, when he saw before him a man of medium height, dressed in a ragged shirt and trousers, and wearing a hat once white, but now dirt-begrimed.
"Friends of yours, judge?" said the newcomer, speaking to Hunter, and indicating by a nod Ben and his companion.
"You ought to know one of them, mayor," said Hunter.
"Why, it's Bradley," said the mayor, extending his hand cordially.
"Glad to see you back again."
Bradley shook hands, and introduced Ben.
"I'm told you can tell me where to find Richard Dewey, colonel," said Bradley, employing another title of the mayor.
"I can't just say where he is," said the mayor; "but I can tell you where he meant to go."
"That will help us."
"You don't mean him any harm?" asked the mayor quickly.
"Far from it. We have the best news for him."
"Because Dick Dewey is a friend of mine, and I wouldn't bring him into trouble for the richest claim in Californy."
"That's where we agree, colonel. The fact is, there's a young lady in 'Frisco who has come out on purpose to find him-his sweetheart, and an heiress, at that. Me and Ben have agreed to find him for her, and that's the long and short of it."
"Then I'm with you, Bradley. I've seen the girl's picture. Dick showed it to me one day, and she does credit to his taste. He's had bad luck at the mines; but-"
"That won't matter when them two meet," said Bradley. "She's better than any claim he can find this side the mountains."
Bradley and our young hero spent the remainder of the day and the night at Murphy's, hospitably provided for by the judge and the mayor, and Ben listened with avidity to the stories of the miners and their varying luck. If he had not been in search of Richard Dewey, he would have tarried at Murphy's, selected a claim, and gone to work the very next day. He was anxious to have his share in the rough but fascinating life which these men were leading. To him it seemed like a constant picnic, with the prospect of drawing a golden prize any day, provided you attended to business.
"That will come by and by," he thought to himself. "We must find Cousin Ida's beau, and then we can attend to business."
Somehow, it seemed more natural to use the first name by which he had known the young lady who employed him than the real name which he had learned later. It may be necessary to remind the reader that her name was Florence Douglas.
The next morning, after breakfast, the two friends left Murphy's, and bent their course toward the mountains where they were told that Richard Dewey was likely to be found. The direction given them was, it must be confessed, not very definite, and the chances seemed very much against their succeeding in the object of their search.
A week later we will look in upon them toward nightfall. They were among the mountains now.
After the close of a laborious day they had tethered their animals to a tree, and were considering a very important subject, namely, where to find anything that would serve for supper. Their supply of provisions was exhausted, and there was no means of purchasing a fresh supply.
Bradley took out his supply of gold, and surveyed it ruefully.
"Ben," said he, "I never knew before how little good there is in bein' rich. Here we've both got money, and we can't get anything for it. It's cheap traveling for we haven't spent anything sence we've left Murphy's."
"I wish we could spend some of our money," said Ben uneasily. "If there was only a baker's, or an eating-house here, I'd be willing to pay five dollars for a good square meal."
"So would I. Somehow, gold don't look as good to me as it used to.
We may starve to death with money in our pockets."
Ben's eyes were fixed upon a slender brook not far away that threaded its silvery way down a gentle incline from the midst of underbrush.
"I wonder if we can't catch some trout," he said. "Don't they have trout in these mountains?"
"To be sure they do; and the best in the world," said Bradley briskly. "The California mountain trout can't be beat."
"But we have no fishing-tackle," suggested Ben.
"Never mind, we have our guns."
"How will that help us?"
"We can shoot them, to be sure."
Ben looked surprised.
"Didn't you ever shoot pickerel? We can shoot trout in the same way. Come, Ben, follow me, and we'll see if we can't have a good supper, after all."
Leaving their mustangs to gather a supper from the scanty herbage in their neighborhood, the two friends made their way to the brook. It had seemed very near, but proved to be fully a quarter of a mile away. When they reached it they brought their guns into requisition, and soon obtained an appetizing mess of trout, which only needed the service of fire to make a meal fit for an epicure.
"I can hardly wait to have them cooked," sard Ben. "I'm as hungry as a hunter. I understand what that means now."
"I sha'n't have any trouble in keeping up with you, Ben," said his companion. "We'll have a supper fit for a king."
They gathered some dry sticks, and soon a fire was blazing, which, in the cool night air, sent out a welcome heat.
After supper they lay down on their backs and looked up into the darkening sky. Ben felt that it was a strange situation. They were in the heart of the Sierras, miles, perhaps many miles, away from any human being, thousands of miles away from the quiet village where Ben had first seen the light. Yet he did not feel disturbed or alarmed. His wanderings had inspired self-reliance, and he did not allow himself to be troubled with anxious cares about the future. If by a wish he could have been conveyed back to his uncle's house in the far East, he would have declined to avail himself of the privilege. He had started out to make a living for himself, and he was satisfied that if he persevered he would succeed in the end.
"What are you thinking about, Ben?" asked Bradley, after a long pause.
"I was thinking how strange it seems to be out here among the mountains," answered Ben, still gazing on the scenery around him.
"I don't see anything strange about it," said his less imaginative comrade. "Seein' we came here on our horses, it would be strange to be anywhere else."
"I mean it is strange to think we are so far away from everybody."
"I don't foller you, Ben. I suppose it's sorter lonelylike, but that ain't new to me."
"I never realized how big the world was when I lived at home," said Ben, in a slow, thoughtful way.
"Yes, it's a pretty largish place, that's a fact."
"What were you thinking of, Jake?" asked Ben, in his turn.
"I was thinkin' of two things: whereabouts Dewey has managed to hide himself, and then it occurred to me how consolin' it would be to me if I could light on a pound of smokin'-tobacco. I've got a pipe, but it ain't no good without tobacco."
"That don't trouble me much, Jake," said Ben, with a smile.
"It's the next thing to a good supper, Ben," said Bradley; "but I might as well wish for the moon."
"You needn't wish in vain for that," said Ben, pointing out the orb of evening, with its pale-yellow light peeping over the tall tree-tops, and irradiating the scene with its pensive shimmer.
"I can see it, but that don't help me any," said Bradley. "If I saw a world made of tobacco up in yonder sky, it would only make me feel worse because I couldn't get any."
"What was it you was a-wishin' for, friend?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
Bradley sprang to his feet, and Ben followed suit.
They saw two strange figures, clad in Spanish style, with large, napping sombreros on their heads, who unheard, had descended the mountains, and were now close upon them.
"Who are you?" asked Bradley doubtfully.
"Friends," was the reassuring reply. "We'll join your little party if you have no objection. I'd invite you to take a drink if there was any saloon handy. As there isn't, jest help yourself to this," and he drew out a pouch of smoking-tobacco.
"Just what I was wantin'," said Bradley, delighted. "You're welcome, whoever you are."
"Ben, can't you get together some sticks and light the fire? It's coolish."
