The Cave of Gold<br />A Tale of California in '49 by Everett McNeil (e book reader pdf TXT) 📕

nine o'clock at night and dark before they reached the west bank of the Sacramento River opposite Sacramento City. Here they found a hundred wagons and many animals and men ahead of them, waiting to be ferried across the river; and, to their very great disappointment, they were obliged to wait until the next morning before crossing over to Sacramento City.

"Well, we are within sight of Sacramento City anyhow," declared Thure, when Jud Smith returned from the ferry with the news that they would be obliged to camp on that side of the river for the night; "and, I reckon, it is just as well that we don't cross over to-night. I'll feel just a little better entering a town like that in the clear light of day," and his eyes looked in astonishment and wonder across the dark waters of the river to where the myriad lights of Sacramento City shone along the opposite bank.

The last time Thure had stood where he was now standing, only a little over a year ago, and looked across the Sacramento River, not a sign of a human habitation was in sight where now shone the thousands of lights of a busy city!

"Isn't it a wonderful sight!" exclaimed Bud, as the two boys stood a little later on the river bank, staring, with fascinated eyes, across the water. "Looks more like a dream-city, or a scene in fairyland, than it does like a real town inhabited by real people."

And Bud was right. It was a marvelous sight that the two boys were looking at, a sight the like of which, probably, no human eye will ever look upon again.

Along the river bank for a mile or more and stretching back from the water's edge up the slope of the low-lying hills, glowed and sparkled a city of tents, pitched in the midst of a virgin forest of huge oak and sycamore trees. It is impossible for words to convey to the mind the mystic charm of this wonderful city of light, when seen by night across the dark waters of the river. Nearly all the houses were but rude frames walled with canvas, or merely tents; and, in the darkness, the lights within transformed these into dwellings of solid light, that glowed in rows along the river front, their lights reflected in the water, and straggled in glowing rows of light up the hillsides and underneath the dark overhanging branches of great trees, while here and there through the general glow shone out brilliant points of light, the decoy-lamps of the gambling-houses and the saloons. And, for a background to all this, the shadowy darkness of the surrounding night!

Thure and Bud were very tired; but they stood for many minutes looking on this wondrous and fairylike scene, half expecting to see it all vanish instantly at the wave of some magician's wand, before they turned to prepare for the night. On their way back to camp and just as they were passing a large camp-fire, they met two horsemen riding down toward the ferry.

"No crossing to-night!" called out Thure.

The two horsemen turned their faces in their direction; and both boys started, for, by the light of the camp-fire, they saw that one of the men was large and the other was small and that the nose of the large man had been broken, and then the darkness hid their faces from their sight, as the two horsemen hurried on without uttering a word in reply.

CHAPTER VIII ACCUSED OF MURDER

There were no laggards in the camp on the west side of the Sacramento River the next morning. Long before sun-up a line of wagons and animals and men stood waiting at the ferry, ready to be carried across the river; and among the first of these were our anxious young friends, Thure and Bud. They had pushed on ahead of their fellow travelers of the day before, the little company of Oregon gold-seekers, who had been delayed in getting into the line on account of their wagons, and were fortunate enough to get near the ferry; and, just as the first rays of the morning's sun looked down on the novel and interesting scene, they led their animals on board the ferry-boat.

The boat was jammed with men and wagons and horses and mules and oxen. The men were all talking excitedly of the mines, the animals were frightened and restless—indeed, all living beings seemed to breathe in excitement and restlessness and anxiety out of the very air, with every breath they drew into their bodies.

"Glory be!" commented Bud, as his eyes looked over the motley gathering of men that crowded every available spot on the boat, "but this is a queer-looking lot of men to see in the wilds of California! Looks like every nation in the world was represented right here in this one boat load and sounds like the confusion of tongues at the tower of Babel. There sure has got to be a lot of gold, if everybody gets a share!" and his face clouded. "Say, but this boat is slow!" and he turned his impatient eyes toward the shore, where, in the garish light of day, the city of canvas seemed real enough, but not a whit less wonderful, only in an entirely different way, than had the magic city of light the night before.

A forest of masts grew from a multitude of boats strung along the river front, and stood out in striking contrast against the leaved branches of the trees on the shore. The boats were moored to strong trunks and huge sinewy roots; and the larger number of them turned out "to grass," that is, leased as shops and dwelling houses. Signboards and figure-heads from the boats were set up along the shore, facing the levee; and back of them, up the gentle slopes of the hills lying between the Sacramento and the American Rivers, for the town was built at the junction of these two rivers, ran the streets of this novel city, lined with their odd-looking canvas houses and tents. Great forest-trees, some of them six feet in diameter, towered here and there above the houses and the streets, their huge column-like trunks and outspreading boughs, clothed with green leaves, adding the needed touch of romanticism to complete the unique picturesqueness of the scene. Everywhere was bustle and excitement. Men were hurrying in and out of the doors of the shops and of the saloons and up and down the streets. Drivers were shouting and cursing at their horses, mules, or oxen; whips were cracking; and wheels were rumbling and creaking. Parties of miners here and there, with loud shouts of farewell, were starting off for the mines, loaded down with pickaxes and shovels, with gold-pans and frying-pans, and other equipments of the rude camp-life they were preparing to live. Sun-up, everybody up, seemed to be the motto of all Sacramento City.

Into the midst of this wild hurly-burly Thure and Bud plunged directly from the ferry-boat. At first they hardly knew what to do with themselves and horses. Never had they been in a scene of such excitement and confusion before. It fairly made their heads whirl; but, boy-like, they enjoyed every bit of it, as, with their keen young eyes glancing in every direction, they rode, holding their frightened pack-horses close to their sides, slowly up what seemed to be the main street of the city.

"Say," and Bud pointed to a large sign on the front of one of the few frame buildings, which read "City Hotel," "that looks like a place to eat. Let's tie our horses outside and go in and get our breakfast. I'm as hungry as a bear; and—and—well we can talk over what we had better do next while we are eating. Glory be, I did not suppose Sacramento City was like this!" and he grinned.

The boys had been in too much of a hurry to get across the river to stop to prepare their own breakfast that morning, consequently Thure at once welcomed Bud's suggestion; and, jumping off their horses, the two lads tied their animals to near-by trees and walked into the City Hotel, bravely trying to look and act as if they were accustomed to living at hotels all their lives, although, to tell the truth, neither boy had even seen a hotel before for ten years.

They found the dining-room and seats at one of the tables without much difficulty; and after some little study of the bill-of-fare, during which they forgot to look at the prices, they gave their order to the waiter—God save the mark! no, to the steward; for there the word "waiter," was never used, it not being considered a sufficiently respectable calling for a man who a few months before might have been a lawyer, a doctor, a merchant, or even a minister. The food was soon set before them; and, as they ate, they talked over the situation.

"The first thing for us to do," declared Thure, "is to find some miners bound for Hangtown, and then make arrangements to go with them; and the only way to do this is to start out and ask everyone who looks as if he was going to the diggings, if he is going to Hangtown, or knows of anyone who is. I reckon it won't take us long to find someone; and, if possible, we want to get on our way to-day."

Bud promptly sanctioned this plan; and, accordingly, it was agreed that, as soon as they finished their breakfast, they would start out to find someone bound for Hangtown.

"I'll pay the bill," magnanimously announced Thure, when the last morsel of food and the last swallow of coffee had vanished down their throats, and he turned to the smiling steward.

The steward wrote for a minute or so on a little pad of paper; and then, tearing off a sheet, handed it to Thure. It was the bill for their breakfast and read:

4 fried eggs $6.00 1 leg of mutton (with potatoes) 2.25 1 leg of veal (with potatoes) 2.25 2 cups of coffee (with milk) 1.50 Bread (with butter) for two 2.00 2 pieces of pie 1.50 ——— Total $15.50

"Great Moses!" and Thure stared in the utmost astonishment at the piece of paper he held in his hand, "does this mean that we are to pay Fifteen Dollars and a Half for what we have just eaten?"

"Yes," smiled the steward, who had evidently been a lawyer before he became a steward, "fifteen dollars and fifty cents is all. Eggs and butter came down a little to-day; and we always give our patrons the benefit of a fall in prices at once. You will see that your bill is correct by glancing at the prices on the bill-of-fare."

Thure transferred his stare, for a moment, to the face of the smiling steward; and then, picking up the bill-of-fare, he saw that the prices were correct, and paid the bill.

"I see that you have already found your goldmine," he remarked, as he handed the cashier the money.

"And without digging in mud and gravel for the gold," the cashier replied, with a grin and a wink. "But, there is not as much gold in it as you might think. Now, how much do you suppose those eggs cost me a dozen?" and he pointed to the egg item on the bill-of-fare.

"Never sold any," smiled back Thure. "We always gave them away."

"Huh! I'll take a car load at that price. Now, them identical eggs that you ate this morning cost me at the rate of Thirteen Dollars and Seventy-five cents a dozen, wholesale! I reckon you are new to the diggings, or you would know that prices on everything have gone soaring up like skyrockets," and the cashier, who happened also to be the proprietor, threw up both hands despairingly toward the ceiling. "Say, what do you suppose I have to pay the fellow who washes the dishes? Seventy-five Dollars a week and keep! And the cook, Mother of men! he gets One Hundred and Eighty-five Dollars a week! Got to