TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

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  THE BOY MINERS;

  OR,

  THE ENCHANTED ISLAND

  A TALE OF THE YELLOWSTONE COUNTRY.


  BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.


  NEW YORK
  BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
  98 WILLIAM STREET.




  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
  BEADLE AND ADAMS,
  in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I. “THERE THEY COME!”

  CHAPTER II.

  CHAPTER III.

  CHAPTER IV.

  CHAPTER V.

  CHAPTER VI.

  CHAPTER VII.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  CHAPTER IX.

  CHAPTER X.

  CHAPTER XI.

  CHAPTER XII.

  CHAPTER XIII.

  CHAPTER XIV.

  CHAPTER XV.




THE BOY MINERS;

OR,

THE ENCHANTED ISLAND.




CHAPTER I.

“THERE THEY COME!”


Young Edwin Inwood leaped down from the small tree in which he had
been perched for the last half hour, and ran swiftly toward the brook
where his elder brother, George, and a large negro named Jim Tubbs,
were waiting, ever and anon raising their heads, and looking towards
the boy who was acting as sentinel, several hundred yards away, as if
they were expecting some such an alarm as this.

“Quick! they’ll soon be here!” he added in his terrible excitement.

“How many are there?” inquired George, catching up his shovel at the
same time with his rifle.

“I shouldn’t wonder if there were twenty. I’m sure I saw a dozen, any
way.”

“More likely dar’s a tousand!” angrily exclaimed Jim, gathering his
implements together, preparatory to making a move. “Dis yer’s a
nonsince--jest as we gits in among de gold, dem Injins has to ’gin
dar tricks.”

“Hurry, Jim,” admonished the young man, beginning to grow nervous.
“It won’t do to be caught here.”

“Dey hain’t cotched dis pusson yit, an’ if dey undertooks it,
somebody’ll git hurt. I can swing dat pick kind o’ loose when I
makes up my mind to do so. I’s ready--now whar does ye pitch to?”

“Into the cane, of course.”

George Inwood, loaded down with his gun and implements, hurried up
the channel of the brook, for several hundred feet, and then, making
a sudden plunge to the right, disappeared as abruptly as if the earth
had opened and swallowed him. The next moment, his brother Edwin, a
lad some fifteen years of age--whisked after him, and then Jim came
lumbering along, somewhat after the manner of an ox, when goaded off
his usual plodding walk.

“Dis yer’s graceful!” he muttered, not deigning to look behind him to
see whether the envious aborigines were visible, “I never did like to
trot, s’pecially when an Ingin was drivin’ me, an’ only does it to
please de boys.”

“Come, Jim, move faster!” called the voice of George Inwood from some
subterranean point.

“Yas, yas, I’s dar!”----

Further exclamation was cut short, for at this instant the indignant
African was seized by the ankle with such force, that he fell
prostrate upon his back, and, despite his struggles and threats of
dire punishment, was quickly drawn out of sight and hearing.

This was scarcely done, when a dozen Mohave Indians swarmed over
the ridge of rocks and trees which bounded the northern part of the
stream, and scattered here and there in quest of the gold hunters,
whom they had been watching from a distance nearly all the afternoon.
Each of them was armed with a gun, several displayed tomahawks and
knives at their girdles, while the majority had large, beautifully
woven and ornamented blankets thrown over their shoulders.

Running hither and thither, their sharp black eyes darting in every
direction, they could not be long without discovering traces of the
interlopers. A sort of halloo, something like the yelp of a large
dog, when a cow flings him over the fence, told that one of the dusky
scamps were on the trail. Immediately the whole pack darted up the
channel, and the next moment, had halted before the mouth of a cave,
the entrance being of sufficient width to admit the passage of an
ordinary sized man; but just now a large boulder prevented their
ingress.

Certain that the gold hunters were immured here, and were within
their power, the Mohaves indulged in a hop, skip, and dance around
the cave, flinging their arms aloft, and shouting continually in
their wild, outlandish tongue. When their clamor had somewhat
subsided, a gruff voice from within the cave was heard.

“Hullo! dar I say! Hullo! I say! Can’t yese keep yer clacks still a
minnit when a gemman wishes to speak?”

The singular source and sound of the human voice had the desired
effect, and instant silence fell upon all.

“Am dar any ob yous dat spoke English? If dar am, please to signify
it by sayin’ so, an’ if dar ain’t, also signify dat by obsarvin’ de
same sign.”

Jim waited several minutes for a reply, but, receiving none, he
became more indignant, and was about to burst out in a tirade
against them, when George Inwood ventured to suggest that, as in all
probability they could not speak the English language, as a matter of
course, they were deprived of the ability of saying so.

“But dey orter to know ’nough to say _no_--any fool know _dat_,”
persisted the African.

“But how can they understand what _you_ say?”

“Clar--didn’t tink ob dat. What am we to do?”

“Defend ourselves--that is all that is left us.”

“I’ll go take a look at dem,” said Jim, beginning to creep along the
passage toward the mouth of the cave.

“I insist that you be more careful in your dealings with them. You
ought to know what a treacherous and untrustworthy set of people they
are.”

Jim promised caution, as he always did in such matters, and Inwood
kept close to him to see that he fulfilled his pledge. Reaching
the mouth of the cave, the African gave a sneeze to proclaim his
presence, emitted with such explosive vigor, that the Mohaves
gathered around, startled as though the ground beneath them had
suddenly reddened with heat. They recoiled a few steps, and then
waited with some anxiety for the next demonstration.

Jim Tubbs had a voice, composed half-in-half of those tones which
are heard when a huge saw is being filed, and that which is made by
the rumbling of the distant thunder. The judicious mixture made from
these, it may safely be said, was terrific and rather trying to a
sensitive man’s nerves; and, as he was in rather an indignant mood
on the present occasion, when he called to the Mohaves, it was more
forcibly than politely.

“What does yer want?”

When a person has reason to believe that the one whom he is
addressing has difficulty in understanding his words, he seems to
think the trouble can be overcome by increasing the loudness of his
tone. Jim repeated his question each time with greater force, until
the last demand partook more of the nature of a screech than anything
else.

By this time, the aborigines had obtained a good view of the black
face, cautiously presenting itself at the opening made by the partial
withdrawing of the stone, and one of them, laying down his gun and
knife, as an earnest of his pacific intention, deliberately advanced
to the entrance of the cave, and reached out his hand.

“Take it, Jim,” whispered Inwood, “he means that as an offering of
good will.”

“I hope yer am well,” remarked Jim, as he thrust his immense digits
through the opening. “I is purty well, an’ so am all ob us--gorry
nation! what am yer at?”

The Mohave had suddenly seized the hand of the negro in both his own
with tremendous force, and was now pulling with such astonishing
power as slowly to drag the unsuspicious African forward.

“I tell ye let go!” shouted the latter, “it won’t do! Wal, if ye
wants to pull wid dis chile, why pull, an’ see who am de best feller!”

Inwood, in his apprehension for the safety of the negro, seized his
leg, and endeavored with his utmost strength to stay his forcible
departure, observing which, the gentleman in dispute turned his head:

“Nebber mind, George, nebber mind if dem darkeys

[Transcriber’s Note: Several lines of text are missing from the
original here due to a printer’s error]

Jim was six feet three inches in height, and along his limbs was
deposited an enormous quantity of muscle almost as hard as the bone
itself; he was not quick, but he was a man of prodigious strength,
and when he chose to exert it, there were few living men who could
withstand it. If there could ever be a suitable occasion to exert it,
that occasion was the present.

And Jim did call it into play. Closing his great fingers around the
hand of the Mohave, he held it as firmly as if it were thrust into
the jaws of a Numidian lion, and then bracing his feet against the
sides of the cavern, he said:

“Now, my ’spectable friend, you pull an’ I’ll pull.”

At the first contraction of that muscular arm, the Mohave was drawn a
foot forward; and, in dreadful alarm, he uttered a cry which brought
several of his companions to his relief, and they, seizing him by his
lower limbs, pulled as determinedly in the opposite direction.

“If yer gets dis feller back agin, I tinks he’ll be about a foot
taller,” muttered Jim, as he gave another hitch with the hapless
aborigine, which jerked not only him forward, but those who were
clinging fast to his extremities. They, in turn, united in a “long
pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether,” with no effect, except
to give the subject under debate a terrific strain.

“Yeave ho! here ye go!”

And with amazing power, Jim Tubbs drew the Mohave clear into the
cave, beyond all reach from his companions.




CHAPTER II.


“Now you keep still, or I’ll come de gold tuch ober you!” admonished
Jim, as he hurried the captured Mohave to the rear portion of the
cave, and delivered him in charge of George Inwood and his brother.

“What do you mean by the gold trick?” inquired the latter, as he
caught up his gun, and placed himself in an attitude to command the
movements of the captured Indian.

“Why I mean dat--hullo!”

Jim turned and darted up the passage, in which he had detected a
suspicious noise. He was not a moment too soon. The red men, furious
at the abduction of one of their number before their eyes, had united
to force away the stone, and, at the instant the negro returned, one
of them had shoved his body half through the opening.

“Out ob dar!” shouted Jim, as, with uplifted pick, he made straight
at the intruder. The latter, fully panic-stricken, turned about
and whisked out of the cave much more rapidly than he entered,
his moccasins twinkling in the air, as if the same means had been
employed to extract him, that had been used to draw his venturesome
companion in.

The ludicrous appearance of the Mohave, as he scrambled out among
his friends, exceedingly pleased the ponderous African, who laughed
loudly and heartily.

“Didn’t fancy de way I swung dat pick round! I was kinder loose wid
it, an’ if I’d let it drap on him, it would’ve made him dance.”

It looked very much as if our friends, in capturing the Mohave, had,
to use a common expression, secured an “elephant.” What to do with
him, was the all-important question, now that he was in their power.
Being without any warlike implements, he was comparatively harmless,
and, as there was no escape for him, except through the passage by
which he had entered, it was hardly to be supposed that, so long as
he was unmolested, he would indulge in any performances likely to
bring down the wrath of his captors upon him.

Withdrawing to the opposite side of the cave, (which was not more
than a dozen feet in diameter) he stood silent and sullen, while
Edwin Inwood, with his loaded and cocked rifle, watched him with
the vigilance of a cat. George Inwood, feeling that nothing was
to be apprehended from the present shape of affairs within their
subterranean home, passed up the narrow entrance to where Jim was,
in order to learn how matters stood there.

At the moment of reaching his sable friend, the discharge of a gun
was heard, and Jim hastily retreated on his hands and knees a few
feet.

“Are you hit?” inquired Inwood in some alarm.

“Yes, but dey didn’t hurt me; _dey hit me on de head_!”

“Can they not force back the stone?”

“Not if we can git close up behind it.”

The negro spoke the truth; for, when immediately in the rear of the
immense boulder, they could hold it against the combined efforts
of any number of men on the outside, and, at the same time, keep
themselves invisible, while, by remaining in their present position,
they ran every risk of being struck. Consequently, no time was lost
in creeping into the proper place, where, for the time being, they
felt themselves masters of the situation.

Having successfully staved off all danger for the present, the
question naturally arose, how was this matter to end? The gold
hunters were walled up in a cave, with plenty of arms and ammunition,
little food and no water. The Mohaves, if they chose so to do, could
keep them there until they perished from thirst or starvation.

Edwin Inwood soon grew tired of standing in his constrained position,
and he cautiously set down his gun, within immediate reach, and
then sinking down upon one knee, resumed the work which had been so
peremptorily checked by the entrance of the captured Mohave. A large
stone, weighing over a dozen pounds, was held firmly in position,
while he employed both hands in drilling a hole into the center.
This, as all know, is quite a tedious operation, and, although he
had the usual tools of the blaster of rocks, he made slow progress.
Still, he was animated by that great spur to exertion, necessity, and
he applied himself to his task without intermission.

While his brother and the gigantic African were parleying and
debating upon their situation, he succeeded in reaching the depth
desired, and then carefully removing the debris, he thoroughly
cleaned the cavity, as does the skillful dentist when preparing our
molar for the golden filling. Into this hollow, the lower portion
of which he had managed to give a globular shape, he poured several
handfuls of Dupont’s best, a piece of fuse all the while standing
upright, while the jetty particles arranged themselves around it.
Dust and sand were then carefully dropped in, until they reached the
surface of the stone, when it assumed the appearance of a solid,
honest fragment of rock, with the odd-looking fuse sprouting from its
side.

“There!” exclaimed the boy, with a sigh, “it is done, and I think it
will answer very well.”

As he looked up, he saw the Mohave still standing silent and sullen,
but with his dark eyes fixed upon the young artisan with a curious
expression, as though a dim idea of the meaning of all this was
gradually filtrating through his brain.

“What do you think of it?” asked the youngster, holding up the block
of stone, with a smile at his own success, and at the whim which
prompted the query. If the questioned had any idea of the meaning of
the question, he did not choose to manifest it, but maintained the
same stolid silence as before.

“I don’t suppose it will suit you very well; at any rate your friends
will be more astonished than pleased with it.”

The boy called his brother, who immediately made his appearance. It
took but a few moments to explain his scheme, which pleased the young
man.

“It can do no harm to us to try it,” he said, as he picked it up and
carried it to Jim. The latter listened to the explanation a moment,
and his great eyes rolled with delight at the scheme.

“Fus’ rate, fus’ rate, almost as good as de gold trick.”

“It is as good a time as any to try it, isn’t it?”

“I s’pose so--you kin see dey’re purty thick out dere.”

Inwood produced a match and set fire to the fuse. It burned quite
rapidly, like the string of a Chinese cracker.

“Throw it out as quick as it reaches the sand!” called Edwin from the
cave.

“Golly, it’s dar now!” exclaimed Jim, springing up, and preparing
to toss it out among the Mohaves gathered outside. Unfortunately,
his elbow struck the side of the entrance, and the bombshell dropped
at his feet. Believing it about to explode, the negro ran back in
dismay, when Inwood, with remarkable coolness, drew the huge boulder
a little to one side, and, catching up the stone, swung it through
the opening. Before the Mohaves could understand the intent of this,
the terrible object burst into a thousand fragments, and with wild
whoops of terror, the red men scattered in every direction, as though
they themselves were a portion of an immense bombshell which had
exploded.

The success of Edwin’s scheme, and delight of our friends were
complete.

“Anybody killed?” asked Jim, and his companion peered cautiously
around the edge of the boulder.

“I suppose not; but they have been hit and frightened almost out of
their senses, and that will do as much good as though it had slain
half a dozen of them. I don’t believe they will come back again.”

“Dunno ’bout dat; dey’re a queer set ob darkeys, am de Injins.”

“I don’t think, from what I have heard, that these Mohaves are the
bravest tribe of Indians in California, and they are too much afraid
of us to make much trouble so long as we remain in the cave. And that
reminds me of our prisoner--what are we to do with him?”

“Kill him,” was the decided response.

“No; that will never do; we cannot murder him.”

“Let me come de gold trick ober him.”

“I haven’t learned what that is.”

“Jes’ come back where he am, an’ I’ll soon larn you.”

Inwood was apprehensive that the “gold trick,” so often referred to
by his sable friend, meant something cruel, and he concluded it safer
to restrain him.

“Never mind about it now, Jim; I have a plan of my own.”

“What’s dat?”

“Let him go.”

“You don’t mean dat?”

“Yes, I do; although he is our enemy, and although his own people
are barbarians, who are none too good to put us to the worst kind of
torture, if they had us in their power; yet, we are Christians, and
cannot do such a thing.”

“Dunno but what you are right; fetch out de feller.”

“Besides,” added Inwood, as he moved away, “it may change their
feelings toward us. They know we have one of their number in our
power, and, if we let him go unharmed, they will have less reason to
look upon us as their enemies--this one at least will regard us as a
friend.”

The decision made, it was carried out without delay. The Mohave was
led from the cave, carefully along the passage toward the opening.
He evidently believed he was being conducted to his doom; he was
as sullen and stoical as his race generally are at such times. Jim
had rolled the boulder back, so as to afford him free egress, and
Inwood, first taking him by the arm, motioned for him to retire. The
aborigine did not comprehend his meaning, when his captor turned his
face toward the opening, and gave him a gentle shove. This was a hint
which could not be misunderstood, and he darted out in a twinkling,
and disappeared.

“Now, I will take a look and see whether there are any of them left,”
said Inwood, as he stealthily followed the liberated Mohave.

By this time it was growing dark, but objects for a considerable
distance were quite distinct, and George Inwood made a thorough
reconnoisance of the bed of the brook for several hundred yards up
and down. At the end of a half hour, he returned with the pleasing
word that the Mohaves had taken their departure.




CHAPTER III.


Having given this episode in the history of the gold hunters, it is
necessary to take a look at events which came to pass a few months
previous.

One bleak day in the winter of 1857-8, a young man was walking slowly
down Broadway, humming a lively tune in a mournful voice, and doing
his utmost to keep up his spirits, which, just then, were at their
lowest ebb. In the nature of things, the poor fellow could not be
otherwise. While in the senior class in college, preparing for the
ministry, and succeeding most brilliantly, he was summoned home to
New York, just in time to receive his father’s dying blessing; his
mother having fallen asleep several years before, he was thus left an
orphan, with a younger brother to provide for. As his father had been
a leading merchant in the great metropolis, there seemed to be little
difficulty in this, and he assumed the control of affairs at once.

But the mutterings of that financial storm were already heard in
the sky, and it soon burst over the land, toppling old, established
houses, like so many ninepins, and carrying woe and desolation to
many a hearthstone. George Inwood placed his shoulder to the wheel,
and toiled manfully; but, where so many thousands of experienced
merchants were swept away by the current, it would have been almost
a miracle, had he been able to resist the whelming tide. Finding it
useless, he threw up his arms, and went down with the multitude. When
everything was gone, he found that he still owed his creditors many
thousand dollars.

And so he hummed the lively air in his mournful voice, as he dreamily
walked down Broadway, and asked himself what was to be done. He was
poverty-stricken, with his younger brother depending upon him, and
the big African, Jim Tubbs, who had always lived in the family from
his childhood, with no means of support.

Naturally, a hundred schemes presented themselves, as they always
will to a young man, when thrown upon his own resources. He might
serve as a clerk--that is if anybody wanted him, which was by no
means likely; he might teach, if any school was in want of such a
teacher as himself, which was equally improbable. He might do any
thing, if the opportunity were given him; but, during these “hard
times,” he soon learned that the worst possible place for a man out
of employment, is in a large city. When he was turned away again and
again, his heart failed him, and as he hummed his lively air in his
mournful voice, he came to a conclusion which he ought to have made a
considerable time before.

“I must leave New York; I shall soon starve here.”

When he reached his lodgings, where his brother Edwin was staying,
and where Jim managed to earn his own board, by doing odd jobs around
the house, he called the two together, and proposed the oft-repeated
question:

“Where shall we go?”

“Let’s go to Quito,” said Edwin, who had just been studying his
geography, “they always have spring weather there, and plenty to eat,
and so they have in several other places in South America.”

“It is hardly the place for us, however.”

“I tells you whar to go,” said Jim.

“Where is that?”

“I’s been tinking about it for free weeks, an’ made all de
’quiries possible, an’ found out it’s jest de place for us, an’
dat’s Californy. Dere’s a man stayin’ at this house now--his name
is _Swill_--no, Mills, an’ he’s jest got back from Californy,
an’, golly! you orter hear him tell ’bout de country! It’s awful
splendid,” added Jim, in his enthusiasm.

“It will be quite an undertaking to go to California, and we’ll take
a day or two to think about it,” said Inwood, feeling at the same
time that the Golden Gate was the door through which he should pass
to comfort and wealth. In the evening, he walked out alone to think
over the matter.

It being nearly ten years since that flood-tide of navigation had
set in toward California from every part of the world, the charm, in
a great measure, was now broken, and those who went there, did so,
very frequently, for other purposes than to dig gold. Yet, Inwood
concluded that if he went, it should be for the purpose of extracting
the yellow metal from the rocks and earth. He was twenty-five years
of age, his heart was set upon being a Christian minister, and he
felt that if he ever intended to become one, even with the help which
his church extended to indigent men, he had no time to plod up the
hill of fortune.

But right here arose the troublesome question, how was California
to be reached? He had but little over a hundred dollars, barely
sufficient to pay his own passage, without taking into account the
necessity of carrying at least Jim with him, and the outfit which was
indispensable.

But again, kind Providence smiled upon his project. After announcing
his willingness to go to California, if he possessed the means, Jim
Tubbs suddenly disappeared, and was gone for a couple of days. When
he came back again, he was very important, and seemed as well becomes
a man who carries a mighty secret in his breast.

“Doesn’t make no difference where I’ve been,” he said rather
savagely, in response to the inquiries of the slip-shod, bulky
landlady. “I’s been on bis’ness--dat’s whar I’ve been--on very
_’portant_ bis’ness. Yas, ma’am.”

The tubby landlady lowered her head, as does a cow when about to
charge, that her spectacles might slip down far enough on her pug
nose to allow her to look over them. Then she stared at Jim a moment
in mute amazement.

“A black man off on bis’ness--never heard of such a thing,” and she,
lifting her skirts rather gingerly, retreated from the apartment,
leaving Jim alone with the two Inwoods at the tea-table. The two
latter knew that the African had some news to tell and they forebore
to question him, choosing to wait until he was ready to unbosom,
which was just what he didn’t want them to do. He waited and waited
for them to inquire of him, until he could wait no longer.

“Gorry’ation! why don’t you _ax_ me?” he finally demanded in high
dudgeon.

“Ask you what?” mildly inquired George, who saw that the secret was
coming.

“Why, what I’ve got to say.”

“How did I know you had anything to say?”

“’Caus you _did_ know it--dat’s de reason. I’s been an’ seen Captain
Romaine--mighty glad to see me. ‘_How are you, Jim?--how’s all de
folks?--how’s George an’ Ned getting ’long? Why don’t dey come down
an’ see me?_’ Couldn’t do much, stuffed one so full, I liked to
cracked open from my chin down to my heels.”

“That’s very pleasant, but had you your important business with
_him_?”

“’Course I had--very _’portant_, but you don’t seem to care much
about it, so I won’t take the trouble to tell you.”

If the curiosity of Inwood had not been already aroused, he would
have left the African alone, knowing that he would burst, if
compelled to hold his secret a half hour longer. So he asked him:

“What was it, Jim? don’t keep us waiting.”

“Wal, the way ob it, you see, was dis way: Arter the Captain had axed
about my healfh, free, four times, I tells him what had happened, an’
how we wanted to go to Californy. ‘Is dat so?’ he axed me, in a great
flurry; ‘how lucky dat are. Old Mr. Inwood was allers a good friend
ob mine, an’ I’m mighty glad I can do sumfin’ for his children. I’s
Captain ob dis steamer, Jim,’ said he, ‘an’ we’re going to sail
on Saturday. Tell George, an’ Ned, an’ yourself to git ready an’
sail wid me. I’ll land you on de Isthmus, (don’t know whar dat am)
an’ give you a ticket cl’ar to San Francisco’--dat’s what he said,
George--cl’ar he did.”

This was as pleasant as unexpected to George and Edwin, who expressed
their delight to each other, and commended the shrewdness of Jim
Tubbs.

“How came you to think of the Captain?” inquired the younger.

“Wal, you see I’ve know’d him for a dozen years. When dat steamer
used to run to New Orleans, ole Mr. Inwood got him de place ob
Captain on it, an’ before dat, when Captain Romaine’s wife died, an’
he was too poor to bury her, ole Mr. Inwood done it all for him. Den
gitten him de place ob Captain right arter dat--why, I tell you it
was almost more dan de man could stand, an’ he’s mighty glad to do
anything he can for his children.”

“I’ll go down and see him to-morrow.”

“Yas, dat’s what he said he wanted you to do--you go right off, for
he wants to see you mighty bad.”

“He sails on Saturday, and to-day is Thursday. We must get ready
to-morrow. Well, we can do that easily enough, as we are not going to
take a fortune with us to California, and a few hours are enough to
get our baggage together.”

“Dar’s plenty ob room on dat steamer. I tell you, she’s a whisker,
an’ she can take a big lot ob people. De Captain showed me frough
ebery part ob it, an’ it war a sight to see. I told him I shouldn’t
go, ’less he’d let me work my passage. He kinder laughed, an’ said if
I was so anxious to make myself useful, he’d find some little jobs
for me to do somewhere ’bout de boat.”

The next morning, George and Edwin Inwood went down to the wharf,
and made a call upon Captain Romaine, who commanded the California
steamer, “Golden Gate.” The large hearted captain was glad to see
them, shook them both cordially by the hand, and, having learned how
matters stood, from the loquacious Jim Tubbs, he soon put his friends
at ease. They agreed to take passage with him on the following day,
and then bade him good morning. As they were stepping off the plank,
the captain touched the shoulder of George, and motioned him aside.

“These are dreadful times, and I know it has gone hard with you. A
man who is going to California, as you are, needs quite a pile to
equip him. Now, my boy, if you need anything, I hope you will do me
the kindness to say so; for nothing would give me greater pleasure
than to do a favor for the son of the best friend I ever had.”

Inwood thanked him, but assured him that he needed nothing. He felt
that he could not receive any more favors at the hand of one who had
already done so much.

On the following day, when the Golden Gate turned her head down the
Atlantic, and steamed swiftly toward her distant destination, she
carried with her the brothers Inwood, and the colossal African, Jim
Tubbs.




CHAPTER IV.


There was a strong attraction which drew George Inwood toward the
golden sands of California, to which we have not even hinted thus
far; but it is high time it received notice.

Several years before, when the young student had just entered
college, he was descending the Hudson in the ill-fated Henry Clay.
On board, he formed the acquaintance of the most engaging young
lady he had ever met. Intellectual, vivacious and accomplished, he
felt strengthened mentally and morally when he left her presence--a
condition far different from that in which one is sure to vacate the
society of nine-tenths of the fashionable women of the present time.

A mutual interest sprang up between the two, and everything was
progressing delightfully toward a tenderer state of feeling, when
that well-remembered calamity burst upon the doomed steamer. In the
confusion and tumult, Inwood, who was an excellent swimmer, became
the means of saving Miss Marian Underwood and her father from death
by drowning.

There can be but little doubt of the result of all this, had
matters been left to take their natural course, but Inwood had just
entered college, and the next tidings that reached him relating to
the Underwoods was, that the father, who was quite wealthy, had
removed to California, and settled quite a distance to the south
of San Francisco. After deliberating a long time upon the matter,
he addressed a respectful but friendly letter to Marian, and then
anxiously awaited the reply; but it never came, and, concluding that
her hand was pre-engaged, he did not repeat the experiment, and did
his best to forget her.

Absorbed in his studies and preparations for his sacred calling, he
succeeded, not in forgetting her, but in preventing her occupying his
thoughts so prominently, although this would have been impossible,
had he known that the letter so carefully written had never reached
its intended destination, and that the fair Miss Underwood often
wondered and as often sighed that he did not seem to deem her worth
the trouble of a letter.

But now that Inwood’s attention was drawn toward California, the
image of this lady constantly rose before him, and he found himself
speculating, at all times of day, regarding her. The great question
was, whether there was “room” for him in her thoughts--that is, the
room which he wished--that which should exclude everything else.
He resolved to find out her residence, and make her a call--his
subsequent course regarding her to be determined by the reception he
received, and her manner toward him.

The voyage to Aspinwall was without incident worthy of mention, as
was the trip across the isthmus on the new railroad, which had been
finished a little over three years. The journey was an unceasing
delight to Edwin, who was just of that age when everything seen
and heard make such a weird impression upon the mind. The broad,
surging Atlantic, the vessels which skimmed like sea-gulls along the
horizon’s edge, the glimpse of the tropical islands, the majesty
of the storm, the exuberant vegetation of the isthmus; these, and
hundreds of other sights, made up a continual banquet for him upon
which the eye could feast and never become sated.

Captain Romaine presented each of them with through tickets to San
Francisco, so as to be sure of their reaching their destination
without further expense.

They waited several days at Panama for the steamer which was to
carry them the rest of the way, and when they went on board, found
themselves greatly crowded for room, and obliged to undergo much
privation in the way of food; but they were as able to bear it as
were the rest of the passengers, and were none the worse, when, on a
bright morning in early spring, they landed in San Francisco.

The first step was to secure temporary lodgings, which was done
without difficulty, and then, while Jim sat on the low porch in front
of their “hotel,” and smoked his pipe, George and Edwin wandered over
the new city. The curiosity of both was, perhaps, equal, and the day
passed rapidly away in gazing at this wonderful giant which sprang so
suddenly into full grown manhood.

By making careful inquiries, George learned that Mr. Underwood was
settled to the south some fifty or sixty miles, and was one of the
wealthiest land-owners and stock-raisers in that section--which was
anything but pleasant information to Inwood, who would have much
preferred to hear that they were in destitute circumstances--in
order that he might call upon them, and feel himself upon something
like equal terms. The information, indeed, seemed to make our young
friend reconsider his decision of calling upon the Underwoods until
he returned from the mines laden with wealth, when he could have no
hesitation in doing so.

Perhaps, if he passed within the immediate vicinity of Underwood’s
ranche, as some of the people termed it, he might seek occasion to
get a glimpse or peep at Marian--but nothing in the world should
induce him to do more.

George Inwood had about a hundred dollars--not enough to procure him
the outfit he needed. He had brought three rifles, three revolvers,
and some cooking utensils with him; but he still needed digging and
mining implements, cloth for tents--to say nothing of a horse apiece,
and one or two mules to carry their luggage.

As a matter of course, it was out of the question to think of
procuring these; and, as the best that could be done under the
circumstances, he bought a rickety old mule, capable of carrying all
that could be piled upon his back, and going like a clock when wound
up, without retarding or increasing his speed, and disposed to walk
straight over a precipice, if it happened to be in his way, unless
he was gradually shied off by Jim Tubbs placing his shoulder against
his, and forcing him to swerve from his course.

“Dat are beast’ll carry all we’ve got to carry, ’cept ourselves, an’
if thar’s only room for us to get on, he’d carry us too,” remarked
the negro, when everything was ready, and they were about to start.

“Yes; he will answer for our luggage.”

“And must we walk?” inquired Edwin in dismay.

“I do not see how it is to be prevented,” replied his brother, as
cheerfully as he could speak.

“Why don’t you buy free hosses?” inquired Jim.

“For the reason that I have not the funds to do it with. I haven’t
enough money left to buy the poorest animal, in the shape of a horse,
that walks the streets of San Francisco.”

“_If you hain’t, mebbe somebody else has._”

“What do you mean?” inquired Inwood, in perplexity.

Ah! wasn’t that a moment of triumph for Jim Tubbs? How cool and
deliberate he tried to be, as he shoved his great hand away down in
his pantaloons pocket, until it looked as if he were fumbling at
his shoe string, and finally fished up a huge leathern purse, so
corpulent that it had very much the appearance of that humble kitchen
edible known as the dough-nut.

“Dar!” he said, as he flung it carelessly toward the amazed George
Inwood, “mebbe dar ain’t nofin’ in dat! Mebbe dat’s all counterfeit;
mebbe Mr. Tubbs hain’t been sabin’ up his money dese five years!
’Spose you look at dat--p’raps dar may be sumfin’ or other in dar.”

Jim leaned back against the column of the porch, cocked his old wool
hat on one side of his head, shoved both hands down into his pockets,
carelessly swung one foot around the ankle of the other, so that it
was supported on the toe, and then, smoking his little black pipe,
looked at Inwood, as he opened the purse and counted out the yellow
gold pieces one after the other, until he had finished.

“How much do you make?” asked Jim, in the same style that he would
have inquired the time of day.

“Four hundred and seventy dollars. Is this all yours, Jim?” inquired
Inwood, hardly comprehending the pleasant truth.

“Shouldn’t wonder now if I had sumfin’ to say ’bout it.”

The three withdrew to a more private place, where the money was
again counted, and it was found to amount to the sum mentioned. Jim
explained how he had been engaged in saving for the last five years,
as he had an idea that there would come some “’casion” like this.
He was shrewd enough to keep its existence a profound secret until
the crisis in their affairs, well knowing that Inwood would have
considered that moment of necessity as at hand long before.

And so the three horses were purchased, and a number of articles
which they needed, and, leaving San Francisco, they took a southeast
direction toward San Jose and continuing on in the same course,
struck a pass in the Coast Range near the 37th parallel.

By this time, they were far beyond the limits of civilization, and
traveling in a wild, savage country, where they occasionally met
emigrants and miners, but more frequently encountered red men and
wild beasts.

California then, as now, was rapidly filling up, but among the
mountains were thousands of miles where the foot of white men had
never trod, and where, beyond question, the auriferous particles lay
in glittering masses, only waiting for the spade of the miner, or the
rock-splitting powder of the blaster.

Before reaching the regions of the mountains, Inwood made careful
inquiries, and learned that the residence of the Underwoods lay but
a small distance from San Jose, and that, by a slight deviation from
his course, he could take it in his path. He did so, neither his
brother nor the astute African entertaining the slightest suspicions
of the true object which drew him thither.

They caught sight of the large Mexican-looking building, with its
low roof, broad wings and extensive outbuildings, its vast droves
of cattle and sheep, which were scattered here and there over an
area of many miles; all these signs of the thrift and wealth of the
owner, and it was with strange emotions that Inwood halted on a small
eminence a short distance away, and gazed down upon the pleasant
scene.

He saw no signs of life about the house. Here and there were to be
seen one or two men passing hither and thither, over the hills or
among the cattle, but the house itself was as still as death, and the
thought once occurred to his mind that, perhaps, the proprietor lay
cold and inanimate within those shaded rooms, or, perhaps, Marian
herself was stretched in the robes of the tomb.

Jim proposed that they should honor the proprietor of this estate
by spending the evening with him, but Inwood objected, and they
encamped in an adjoining piece of wood. When everything had been
made ready for the night, and the full moon had risen, Inwood left
his companions, and sauntered toward the house, his heart throbbing
tumultuously with its varied emotions.

As he walked slowly by, he caught the faint notes of the guitar, and
heard a low, sweet voice humming a familiar song. He looked in the
direction whence it came, and, through the interlacing vines, could
faintly detect the form and outline of Marian Underwood. He knew it
was _her_--he recognized the voice, and twice he paused and was about
to enter the gate; but he checked himself by a painful effort of the
will, and, loitering as long as he dared in the vicinity, he turned
on his heel and wandered back.

“When I return, I will call!” was the comforting conclusion he gave
himself.

In a few days, by patient traveling and perseverance, they reached
the eastern slope of the Coast Range, and found themselves in the San
Joaquin Valley, where they intended to prosecute their search for
gold. Carrying out their purpose of getting into a region where there
was little danger of being disturbed by any of their own race, they
followed the slope to the southward, keeping among the mountains, and
guarding every movement.

They “prospected” a long time, and suffered at first for want of
food, but they soon overcame this difficulty, and prosecuted their
search for gold with greater vigor than ever. They had poor fortune
for awhile, but they pushed resolutely forward, and finally came upon
a small mountain stream, which contained an abundance of the shining
particles among its sands.

Here they would have pitched their tent, had they not accidentally
discovered a remarkable cave, which answered their purpose so well,
that they carried everything within, and at once made it their
quarters. Their horses were tethered in a dense grove further down
the stream, where they were visited once a day to see that all was
well.

They had been here but a few days, when they discovered signs
of Indians, and Edwin was put on watch, while the others busied
themselves in “making hay while the sun shone.” The young sentinel
had been there but a short time, when he descried the troublesome
visitors approaching along the slope; and what then and there took
place our good readers have already learned.




CHAPTER V.


The cave which afforded such an opportune retreat to Jim Tubbs
and the Inwoods, was one of these natural formations which are
occasionally found, and which have more the appearance of being the
handiwork of some skillful architect than of nature.

A narrow passage, sufficient to admit an ordinary sized man, extended
about thirty feet, when it opened into a broad chamber, which was
lighted by several thin rents in the rocks overhead, they being so
massive as to exclude all hope of ingress from that direction. The
only disadvantage connected with this subterranean dwelling was, that
during rainy weather, it required extreme care to prevent its being
flooded. Occasionally, they were driven out in this manner; but there
being a lower portion of the mountain close at hand, the water thus
gathered, almost as speedily filtrated through the rocks into the
outlet.

When George Inwood made his reconnoisance, after the departure of
the Mohave Indians, he was confident of finding some of them dead,
or desperately wounded; but, to his surprise, he discovered neither.
He was rather pleased at this; for he had never slain a human being,
and his teaching and tastes were utterly opposed to it. He more than
expected that, ere he saw San Francisco again, he would be compelled
to slay some of the troublesome aborigines in self-defense, but,
until absolutely compelled so to do, he had resolved to abstain from
it altogether.

“De next thing, I s’pose, am whedder dem hosses are wisible or
inwisible. I ’clines to tink dey’re inwisible,” remarked Jim, when
informed that the red men had taken their final departure.

“They have been undisturbed,” replied Inwood. “I took a look at them
before I came in.”

“Bless de good Lord for dat; I hopes dey will let dem animals be; for
if dey tucks ’em away, we’ll hab a mighty hard road to trabbel to get
back agin--carrying dem big piles ob gold.”

“Ah, Jim, we haven’t got that gold yet----”

“But ain’t we getting it, eh? I s’pose I didn’t get a pocketful dis
berry arternoon, did I?” he demanded indignantly.

“We have comparatively a small quantity, and there’s no telling when
that will give out.”

“I tink it’s gibbin’ out all de time, an’ if it only keeps on gibbin’
out long ’nough, we’ll soon get all we want.”

“I hope we may, but I very much doubt it; and come to think, I
believe we have nothing for supper. How is that?”

“You’re right--not ’nough to feed a ’skeeter.”

“You ought to have done some fishing for us, Edwin.”

“I would, if you hadn’t put me in the tree, and set me to watching
for the Indians.”

“Dat is so,” assented Jim, quite emphatically, “couldn’t watch a fish
at de same time. We’ll have to go widout supper, an’ den make up when
we get de chance agin; dat’s de way I ginerally fixes it. I can go a
week widout eatin’ anything, but I tells you Jim Tubbs ’gins to feel
holler, an’ he makes meat fly when he git de chance.”

“We can then wait until morning.”

By this time, it was completely dark in the cave. The three conversed
together awhile longer, and then Jim, having finished his pipe, arose
and said:

“I tinks I takes a look at de hosses.”

“You had better remain where you are. They are all right, and you may
get yourself into trouble.”

“Ain’t afeerd; who can git me into trouble? Jus’ let me try de gold
trick on ’em, an’ dey’ll be glad ’nough to cl’ar de track.”

“You haven’t told us what that gold trick is.”

“You’ll hab to wait now till I come back,” said Jim, as he knocked
the ashes from his pipe, “takes some time to ’xplainify de science ob
dat movement.”

With which information, he made his way to the mouth of the cavern,
accompanied by George Inwood, who gave him a parting admonition.

“Be very careful, for some of these dogs may be loitering around, and
waiting for the chance to cut you off.”

“I’ll be keerful, ob course; look out for yourselves, an’ don’t let
anybody in till you knows who he am. Some ob dem darkeys may try dere
tricks on you, an’ you can’t be too keerful.”

“You needn’t be afraid of my getting careless; you’re the one who
needs the most advice.”

“O, I always _keeps dark_,” laughed the African, with which profound
witticism, he turned the corner of the cave and disappeared. Inwood
waited awhile at the opening of the passage, listening and watching,
but only the murmur of the brook caught his ear, and he could see
nothing but the dark wall of bank which shut out his view beyond, and
above these, in the clear sky, floated the full moon. The hour and
the surroundings were impressive, and he remained a long time in a
kneeling position, lifting up his heart in silent communion with the
only One who then saw and heard him.

When he returned, he found his younger brother somewhat apprehensive
at his continued absence.

“If the Indians should come down upon us when we are separated,” said
Edwin, “I don’t think we would get off as well as we did to-day.”

“No; if we hadn’t this cave to retreat to, we should have seen
trouble. As it is, I am a little anxious about Jim.”

“He is careless, but he has been very fortunate. I never saw anything
so strange as that which happened to him when we were coming through
the mountains. Don’t you think that was strange, George?”

“Very Providential, indeed, although I did not see it myself.”

“I did; he was only a little ways ahead of us, riding along on his
horse, when those two Indians sprang out from behind the trees, not
more than twenty yards off, aimed both their guns straight at him,
fired, and then run away.”

“And never harmed him?”

“Never touched him; he said he heard both bullets whistle past his
ears.”

“It was very singular, but not unaccountable. His color and his size
are such as to startle these superstitious people, and, no doubt,
when these two aimed at him, their nerves were very unsteady, and to
this alone their failure is to be attributed.”

“Then he has been in danger several times since we have been here,
and was scratched a little this afternoon--so he told me--but he
hasn’t been really hurt.”

“He is great help to us. I don’t know what we could do without him.
He can do more work in a day than I can in a week, and he has got to
be a good shot, too. We must arrange that, however, so that you can
do the hunting for food, while we do the hunting for gold.”

“I am ready to begin at any time, and have wondered why you haven’t
set me at work before,” said Edwin, with great animation, at the
prospect of a day’s ramble through the woods.

“It is with some misgiving, as it is, that I consent to this step.
Remember you are very young, Edwin, and there is a great deal of
danger for an old hunter in this part of the country.”

“Not if he is careful, and you know I would be careful. I shall
always keep a sharp look out for grizzly bears.”

“They are dangerous enough, but not so dangerous as the red men.”

“But don’t you think they are easily scared?”

“That may all be, and yet, it isn’t to be supposed that they would
be much frightened at the sight of a youngster tramping through the
woods with a gun on his shoulder.”

“I will not wander off beyond call.”

“You must remember that; for if you get lost, I don’t know how you
would ever find your way back again.”

“I should follow up the stream.”

“But do you suppose this is the only stream in the mountains? There
are hundreds of such, and you would be a great deal more likely to
get upon the wrong than upon the right one. I mention these facts,
because I wish to impress upon you the great necessity of being
careful. Boys are very seldom inclined to be thoughtful, and you are
no exception to the general rule.”

Edwin repeated his resolve to take good heed of what he did, and
appealed to his record since coming into California in support of his
actions.

“Yes; I am glad to say that you have, but I sometimes tremble to
think of what we have done.”

“You ain’t sorry, George?”

“No; but I am frightened almost. Just to think that we are entirely
cut off from the civilized world, and it is known to these Indians
that we are here.”

“But they can’t harm us.”

“Suppose they took it into their heads to root us out, what is to
hinder them? They could soon starve us to terms, and then do as they
pleased with us.”

“You seem gloomy to-night, brother.”

“No; I do not mean to be so--I wish you to understand truly our
situation.”

“I am sure I do--but isn’t Jim gone a long time?”

“Hark!”

Faintly through the still night air came the far-off exclamation:

“_Hold on dar! hold on dar! or I’ll come de gold trick ober you!_”




CHAPTER VI.


When Jim Tubbs issued from his subterranean domicile, he was rather
too strongly inclined to act upon the report of Inwood, that is, it
had been affirmed that there was no visible danger; he believed there
was none, and, accordingly, he started straight for the tethering
ground of the horses and mule, to make sure that they had suffered no
disturbance from the marauding Mohaves.

“Dat are place whar we put ’em, is de place dat _I_ selected, an’
dar’s no danger ob dere being troubled while dey stay dar,” he
muttered, as he walked rapidly along, occasionally pausing to make
sure that no one was following him.

“I always understood hosses,” he added, as he approached the vicinity
of the dense undergrowth. “Dar ain’t many----”

He paused with unutterable emotion as he drew the bushes aside, and
there, where they should have been, he saw them not! For a moment he
was completely stupefied, and stood like one who, from the tangled
web of a dream, endeavors to form the skein of coherent thought.

But he speedily recovered himself, and was sharp enough to comprehend
that the animals must have been abstracted very recently, and were
within the possibility of recovery. With a muttering exclamation of
impatience, he dashed headlong through the bushes into the open space
beyond, and stared around. Being at the base of the mountains, he was
also on the edge of a broad valley, and the bright moonlight gave him
quite an extended view over the broken, rocky country.

It required but one sharp glance of the African to discover, about
a quarter of a mile distant, the three horses and one mule, making
their way among the boulders and patches of broken land, with all the
deliberation with which they would have answered the call to work.
Jim paused long enough to see that no one was driving them, when,
uttering the exclamation which has been given at the close of the
last chapter, he started on a full run after them.

With his usual thoughtlessness, he had come out without his gun, and
he was now running at his utmost speed, entirely regardless of his
personal danger from the hubbub he was creating, and from withdrawing
so far from his base of operations. There was something so singular
in the spectacle of these four animals leisurely trotting off over
the country, that he ought to have hesitated and attempted to explain
the matter before venturing after them in this open, boisterous
manner.

It was observable, too, that, immediately after Jim gave the terrific
outcry referred to, the slow trot of the animals increased to quite a
brisk gait, a thing so unusual on the part of the mule, as to cause
no little wonder upon the part of the pursuer.

“Beats all natur’!” he exclaimed, as he struck his foot against a
stone, and was almost thrown forward upon his hands and knees. “Fust
time I ebber seed dat ole mule raise a trot; split two, free rocks
ober his head, smashed all de limbs off a big tree ober his back, but
no use, couldn’t get him off a walk, an’ dere he goes now swingin’
’long like a feller on stilts. Beats all natur’!”

It was indeed so curious, that he paused to take a look at them.
Just at that moment they were ascending a small swell; and, as they
came in relief against the blue sky beyond, they were as plainly
visible as at noon day. It was clear that none of them had a rider
upon his back, nor was any one following, except him who was trying
so valiantly to recapture them. What then was the explanation of this
singular movement?

Jim, who had suddenly resumed his running, as suddenly paused, for he
had discovered something.

“Wal, dere! if dat don’t beat eberything! dar’s an Ingin right
in among dem hosses, or else dat switch-tailed mare has got six
legs--one or t’oder!”

It would have required a good pair of eyes to notice this curious
fact, had not the mare referred to at that moment fallen somewhat in
the rear, when the singular addition to her means of locomotion made
the usually large eyes of the African considerably larger.

The fact was apparent that a red man was among the quadrupeds, and
inciting them to their rapid gait by some outlandish means which
seems to come natural to the aborigines, and which, up to this time,
had escaped the attention of the pursuer.

Immediately upon this discovery, Jim broke into a fiercer gait than
ever after the fugitives, shouting in his tremendous style--

“Drop dat hoss, I tell you! drop that hoss, or I’ll make you!”

Inasmuch as it was hardly possible for the marauder to hold up one
of the equine specimens, if he choose to tumble, it was not exactly
clear how he was to obey this command. On the contrary, the animals,
including the mule, (which, having once got up a loping trot, didn’t
exactly comprehend how to stop it,) increased their speed, and the
indescribable whirring howl with which he accomplished it, reached
the ears of the exasperated pursuer.

“O, if I only had a gun!” he muttered, as he jogged along, “wouldn’t
I pepper dem legs for him!”

At this juncture, the ground assumed a rougher character, and the
animals were compelled to deviate to the left to pass a canon,
where the waters raged with such fury, that the shrewd Mohave did
not attempt to force them into it. Observing this, Jim took the
hypotenuse of the triangle, and went sailing down the course in
magnificent style, gaining so rapidly, that he gave utterance to a
joyous shout.

“Cl’ar de track! or I’ll run ober you! I’s comin’!”

This startling intelligence did not have the effect expected and the
copper-colored gentleman evidently concluded that all was not lost,
for he still maintained his position between the two horses, and,
just then, striking a fording place, he tumbled them turbulently in,
and, scrambling up the opposite side, renewed the flight in the same
admirable fashion.

“Dat ’ere beats all natur’!” he exclaimed in absolute amazement, as
he witnessed the exploit. “Whoeber dreamed dare was so much _go_ in
dat mule?”

The chase by this time had become interesting; but, if the Mohave
had displayed some natural smartness in stampeding the animals, he
now found himself at fault so far as regarded the mule; for this
character, as he rattled down the canon with a noise like the charge
of cavalry, lost his unnatural gait, and, finding himself back into
his natural one, it was impossible to change it under a furlong,
seeing which, the charging body dashed forward with such a burst of
speed, that the Mohave and his body-guard were compelled to leave him
behind. Five minutes later, Jim vaulted like an avalanche upon the
saw-like back of the mule.

“Now, ole fellow,” said he, addressing the beast most affectionately,
“show ’em what you can do.”

But the mule didn’t seem anxious to obey; for, although his
enthusiastic rider thumped his sides with his huge heels until he
nearly bounced off, the beast subsided into a moderate walk, as if
he didn’t exactly comprehend the meaning of all this uproar upon his
back, and all efforts to change his gait was useless. A man in a
great hurry has very little patience, and it took but a little while
for Jim’s to exhaust itself.

“You want de gold trick comed on you--dat’s what you do, an’ you jes’
wait till I get you home.”

Sliding off the serrated animal, he left him alone, and resumed the
chase with greater vigor than ever. The few minutes’ halt which he
had made, were precious moments to the Mohave, who, still keeping his
body invisible, had improved them to the utmost; but the roughness of
the ground was against him, and the African gained rapidly.

“Ye’d better drop dem hosses while you got de chance!” he shouted, as
he came sweeping down with great velocity. A few minutes later, he
observed a diminution in the speed of the horses, and finally they
walked, and then stood still.

“You oughter s’rendered sooner, den I might been ’sposed to show you
some mercy; but I don’t know--hullo! where be you?”

He might well ask the question, for, as he came in among the horses,
there was nothing to be seen of the aborigine--he had taken the
occasion quietly to slip away, when he found himself compelled to
relinquish his prize.

Jim stared all around, but could see nothing of him he sought, and
concluded, under the circumstances, it was best to make his way back
as speedily as possible.

“I tinks I’ve run ’nough to ’arn a ride,” he reflected, as he put
himself astride the back of his own horse, and turned his head
homeward; “an’, as dat darkey ain’t anywhere’s about, I won’t wait
for him.”

When the nature of the ground would permit, he put the horses on a
good swinging gallop, and, in a short time, encountered the mule
walking leisurely toward him. Before this obstinate animal could be
induced to take the right direction, Jim was obliged to get off his
horse, and press his shoulder against that of the mule, until he had
described a half circle, when he came round right, and was left to go
without any other direction.

The rider exercised himself awhile in endeavoring to get him off his
walk, but he speedily gave that over as useless, and rode ahead, well
aware that so long as he kept a linear direction, the long-eared
animal would eventually come up with him.

It was not long before he struck the canon, but at a point where it
looked unsafe to cross. Believing himself above the place he had
forded, he turned down its bank in quest of it; but, after going
fully a mile, discovered his mistake, and was about turning back,
when he caught a glimpse of a broad sheet of water, and suspected
at once that here was a lake into which the stream flowed. As the
roaring, compressed canon must end here, he kept steadily on, and
soon halted at the view of a scene so beautiful and enchanting, that
his untutored mind was filled with admiration.

The canon suddenly spread out into a broad rapid stream, which flowed
into a lake of about a half mile in diameter. Under the bright
moonlight, it had the appearance of “liquid silver”--an expression
by no means original, but so literally truthful, that we can use
no other--and in the still summer night there was not a ripple
upon its surface. In the center rose a small island, so abruptly,
that, covered as it was with vegetation, it had the appearance of a
bouquet, and would have reminded a traveler of the famous Lakes of
Killarney.

Jim noticed that the opposite shore was rocky and fringed with trees,
and the lake appeared to stand on the edge of a large wood.

“Dat ’ere is nice!” was his reflection, as, from the back of his
horse, he looked out upon the fairy-like scene. “What a good place
dat would be for George to build a house. I tink we could run a
bridge ’cross to de land, or hab a ferryboat to run atween it an’ de
shore.”

“Hullo! dere goes sombody,” he added, as he saw a canoe put out from
the shore to his right, and head toward the island. The full moon
had now sunk toward the horizon, so that the shadow of the trees and
island were thrown far out upon the lake; and, as the single Indian
who impelled the canoe, issued from the broad band of darkness which
lay along the shore, every motion of his dusky, muscular arms was
plainly seen. He managed his oar with such skill, that his body
never seemed to incline a hair’s breadth to the right or left. The
flash of the paddle seemed born of the paddle itself, as he held the
point in the water, instead of coming from his hand, as the tail of
a fish is sometimes seen to move in the water, when its body remains
motionless. The canoe sped forward without the least sound, but
instead of halting at the island, Jim observed that it passed behind
it, and immediately disappeared.

The African now drove his horses into the water, and crossed without
difficulty. As he came out, he halted a moment to take a last view
of the little gem which rose from the lake. The first glance nearly
frightened him out of his wits; for, on the nearest point, he saw a
thin, waving, arrowy point of light rise to the height of five or six
feet, and then vibrate back and forth, as though held by a hand which
oscillated from right to left.

While he sat amazed, a second flame, precisely similar, arose from
another point of the island, and then another, and another, until
fully half a dozen were visible, every one issuing from that portion
of the island which touched the edge of the water. It was indeed a
small representation of what Magellan, the great circumnavigator, saw
in 1520, when he sailed by Terra del Fuego.

“I tinks it’s ’bout time Mr. Tubbs left dese parts,” chattered Jim,
as, with a shiver of horror, he started his horses homeward.




CHAPTER VII.


Jim had gone but a short distance, when, still fascinated by his
great terror, he reined up his horses and looked back at the moonlit
lake and the little island in its center. Could he believe his eyes?
_Yes; it was moving._ He saw it slowly float toward the wood, until,
unable to control his excessive fear, he once more gave the rein to
his animal, and did not pause until he was far beyond sight of the
lake and its Enchanted Island.

The negro rode a considerable distance, when, as objects around him
began to wear a singular look, he drew his animals down to a walk,
and, on the edge of a rocky grove of small trees, came to a dead halt.

“Dis yere looks strange! I disremember dese trees; Ise afeerd Mr.
Tubbs is off de track, an’ how is he gwine to git on agin, am de
question.”

The country through which he was journeying, was a broad valley,
interspersed with streams and canons, trees and open spaces, and huge
boulders piled promiscuously here and there, and in some places so
thickly strewn as to become almost impassable. There were acres where
one could gallop as free as upon the beaten road, and then, for the
same distance, it was the utmost that a horseman could do to pick his
way along.

In the hurried manner in which Jim had made headway across the
desolate tract, it was not to be supposed that he entertained a very
vivid recollection of the landmarks; but he had quite a memory of
places, and after he had rested his animal for a few moments, he
became certain that he was lost. Under these circumstances, his only
resource was to fall back on general principles, and take the course
which he believed would eventually lead him to the neighborhood of
the cave.

By carefully studying the position of the moon, he believed he was
going too much to the south, and, turning to the right, he followed
this course at a slow walk, watching carefully for some landmarks
which could be recognized. Discovering none, and it being well on
toward midnight, he checked his horses, with the intention of waiting
until morning.

Jim was pretty tired, and, tying the horses together, he lay down on
the ground beside a rock, and in a few moments was asleep. He was
undisturbed until daylight, when he was awakened in a manner which
brought a howl of terror from him.

Some crushing weight descended upon his foot, and, starting up,
he gazed about him for the cause. It proved nothing less than the
baggage mule so frequently referred to, which, in journeying straight
forward in the path which he had been started upon, had thus come
directly upon the sleeping African.

“What!” he shouted, placing himself directly in front of the animal,
and checking him in the same manner that a wall of rock would have
done. “Dat ’ere is queer!” he laughed, “dat I put myself right afore
you. Shouldn’t wonder now if you was on de right track; leastways
we’ll try you.”

The mule was fired up, and, as it moved on again, the negro
followed on the back of his own horse. To his great surprise and
gratification, he had gone but a short distance when he caught sight
of a small clump of trees which he recognized as a point passed by
him shortly after he had started in pursuit of the Mohave and his
prey.

He was highly pleased at this, and pressing on until he had reached
the grove, became convinced that he was on the right track, and would
rejoin his friends in the course of an hour. Beyond this spot all was
familiar, and he advanced without hesitation or misgiving. Reaching
the point where their animals had been tethered, he drove them in
among the trees, and, first securing them, started out in quest of
his friends.

Jim had walked but a few yards, when it suddenly occurred to him,
as he recalled the previous night’s experience, that there might be
danger in advancing so openly to the cave. It was a very easy matter
for a party of aborigines to conceal themselves along the banks, and
rush upon and secure him before he could help himself.

It struck him, too, as he approached the cave, that an unnatural
stillness reigned around it. The sun was now up, and it was high
time that his friends were bestirring themselves. A vague fear took
possession of the African, as he halted some rods away, and looked
furtively about him. Everything was so quiet--nothing moving except
the stream, and that made scarcely a ripple as it glided over its
sandy bed.

Jim was standing in this apprehensive state when a slight noise in
the rear startled him. Turning his alarmed gaze, he expected to
behold a whole troop of painted red men about to swoop down upon him;
but, in the place of that, recognized the smiling face of young Edwin
Inwood.

“Bress me, but you scart dis chile dat time!” said Jim, his teeth
fairly chattering at the remembrance of his shock.

“I threw a stone to let you know I was near; I didn’t mean to
frighten you.”

“It wasn’t de stone dat scart me, it was de thought dat I tink it was
sumfin’ else. Whar’s George?”

“Inside the cave.”

“Had breakfast?”

“No; we were just going to prepare it. Here he comes!”

At this moment, George Inwood made his appearance above ground, and
he greeted the negro with great gladness. The latter soon gave an
account of his pursuit and capture of the horses, and his safe return
with them.

“You have done very well, Jim, especially when we remember that you
had no gun with you. There are few men who would have dared to do so,
even when fully armed.”

“But, dat ain’t all,” added the colored man, as he heaved a great
sigh, “I seen de most awfulest ting you ever heard tell on.”

In answer to their anxious inquiry, he gave what has already been
given by us, winding up with the declaration:

“An’ when I looked back de last time, what do you ’spose I seen? Why,
I seen dat island rise up, flap its wings, an’ fly away!”

“There, Jim, that’s a little too much,” laughed the elder Inwood.

“When it flapped its wings, didn’t it also crow?” asked Edwin, whose
interest in the narrative was turned into equally intense amusement
at this culmination.

“You folks can laugh,” retorted Jim, indignantly, “but wait till you
see what I did, an’ de shivers will run all ober you.”

“It may be possible that it was a _mirage_,” said George, somewhat
impressed by the earnest manner of his sable friend.

“A _mirage_ by moonlight?” inquired Edwin.

“Such things have been heard of, I believe, although very rarely.”

“What’s a _mirage_?” demanded Jim.

By great perseverance, George succeeded in giving Jim a sort of an
idea of what he meant, although, in all probability, he would have
regarded the _mirage_ itself equally mysterious and wonderful as the
bodily exit of a _bona fide_ island before his eyes.

“All I got to say is, you jes’ go an’ see it, an’ den you’ll stop
laughing at dem as what undertakes to explanify it to you.”

“Perhaps we shall have the opportunity, as I have concluded to leave
these quarters.”

“What fur?”

“In the first place, our safety demands it. The Indians have found
out we are here, and they will hover about and watch us, until some
time they will pounce down upon us before we know it.”

“What ob dat? Didn’t they do it last ebening?”

“Yes; and Providentially we were able to drive them off; but you
can see that if a hundred of them should come down here, they could
keep us in the cave until we died of thirst or starvation, or were
compelled to surrender, and our end in each case would be the same.”

“But we hadn’t orter leave de gold jus’ as we ’gin to find it.”

“We shall leave a very small quantity of it behind. The supply has
about run out. You remember that we had a small lot yesterday. The
reason was that we had gathered about all there was, and so you see
there is nothing to keep us here, while we have every inducement to
draw us away.”

As this was undoubtedly the case, there was no gainsaying the
argument of Inwood, and it was decided to move their quarters without
further delay. Breakfast was prepared, during which Edwin took his
station and kept a sharp watch for straggling Indians. None were
discovered, and he descended and joined them in the morning meal.
Their baggage was piled on the mule, the five tiny sacks which
contained the yellow dust, were taken in charge by George, and while
it was yet early in the day, they took up the line of march.

Very appropriately, Jim led the way, he riding his nag with all
the dignity of a conqueror at the head of his army. Inwood was not
so particularly anxious to see the Enchanted Island, as he was to
make sure that no Mohaves were following or watching them. The most
vigilant scrutiny failed to detect any of the dreaded creatures, and
our friends finally ventured to believe that with due prudence they
could reach a place of safety.

It was past noon, when Jim, who was riding a short distance in
advance, ascended a small elevation, and then suddenly made a signal
for his companions to hurry alongside of him. The next moment the
three were side by side.

“Dere!” said Jim, pointing off to the east, “is de lake an’ de
island.”

The beautiful, circular sheet of water lay a half mile away, and
right in the center was an island about fifty feet in length, and
half that distance in breadth. It was covered with young trees and
dense vegetation, and in the bright sunlight had a cool, fresh
appearance, which made it still more pleasant than when viewed under
the witching rays of the moon.

George Inwood produced a small spy-glass from his pocket, and scanned
it long and narrowly. There was something about this little island,
aside from the marvellous stories related of it by Jim, which
awakened his curiosity. While apparently still and devoid of life, he
saw signs which convinced him that more than one person was upon it.

In among the leaves he could detect a fluttering, tremulous motion,
and around the edge of the island were ripples which must have been
caused by human hands, as the surface of the lake in every other
portion was as smooth as a mirror. He thought he heard once or twice
a plashing sound, which came either from the island itself, or from
directly behind it. He decided to say nothing of his suspicions until
he had learned more of it, what certainly wore a singular look, to
say the least.

He was on the point of lowering his glass, when a slight movement
among the bushes on the eastern shore of the lake caught his eye, and
he immediately directed his gaze toward that point.

The naked vision would have discovered nothing, but by the aid of
the lens he discovered a man standing on the very edge of the wood,
and scrutinizing the party. At first glance, he took him to be
an Indian, but a continued examination satisfied Inwood that the
stranger was a white man, dressed and painted as a red man. What gave
this impression was the fact that his outfit was not complete, being
deficient about his head. This, instead of being bare, with the long,
wiry black hair stained and ornamented with eagle feathers, (as is
the custom of the Mohaves and Apaches) was surmounted by a slouched
hat which entirely concealed the short hair.

The painted white man gazed long and intently upon the party, from
which fact Inwood judged that he was displeased at their appearance
and anxious to keep himself invisible. This, united with the curious
facts noted regarding the appearance of the island, furnished food
for speculation, and Inwood lowered his glass and placed it away with
the conviction that there was some mystery connected with this lake
and the tiny island resting in the center, which, perhaps, it might
be well for him to attempt to fathom.

“What you tink ob him?” inquired Jim, much wondering at the continued
silence of Inwood.

“It is the finest scene I have ever looked upon. Nothing could be
more beautiful than the lake, and the island, and the green shores
which surround, and the white mountain peaks away in the distance.”

“Wait till you see it fly away--den I guess you tink it beautifuller
yet.”

“I am afraid I shall have to wait a good while,” said Inwood.

“Shall we go on?” inquired Edwin.

“I rather like the appearance of the country around here, and I think
we are as likely to find gold as in any other place. We will hunt up
some good spot, take up our quarters, and go to prospecting. The best
plan, I think, is for us to turn square around and start back again.”

“What dat for?”

Edwin, too, looked an inquiry, but George said he had a good reason,
and accordingly it was done.




CHAPTER VIII.


The party turned about as if to retrace their steps; but the moment
they had descended the hill, so as to be out of sight of the
Enchanted Island, Inwood dismounted, and said to his friends:

“Now, you walk the horses as slowly as you can, and when you get
beyond that grove of trees, wait for me, but don’t halt until you are
there.”

Jim and Edwin looked wonderingly at him, but he waved them
impatiently away, and trailing his rifle, ran rapidly around the
brow of the hill from which he had taken his view of the lake, and,
gaining a position where he could still see it, he screened himself
from observation, and carefully awaited the confirmation of his
suspicions.

He had been here about twenty minutes, when he observed an agitation
in the bushes between the hill and the lake, and the next minute the
head and shoulders of a man rose to view. One glance identified him
as the individual whom he had surveyed through his telescope, and it
is hardly necessary to say that our young friend watched his motions
with intense interest.

Looking cautiously about him, as if to satisfy himself that he was
unobserved, the stranger soon came fully to view, and commenced
ascending the hill with a silent, cautious step. Reaching a point
almost to the summit, he sank down on his hands and knees, and looked
over. Watching the horsemen, who, by this time, were a third of a
mile distant, for a few moments, he laid his rifle across a mound of
earth, and took a long, deliberate sight.

Inwood felt very uncomfortable as he watched this operation, and he
was on the point of bringing his own gun to his shoulder to prevent
this murder, when the piece was discharged, and, glancing at his
friends, he saw that they were not disturbed enough to cause them to
look around.

“Try it again!” muttered Inwood, “that is rather too long a range for
a gun like yours.”

The man, after the failure of his piece, took an upright position,
and watched the horsemen with an intensity of gaze which showed that
for some reason or other, he had a deep interest in their movements.
Finally they rode behind the grove referred to, and the man, with a
great sigh and some muttered words, turned on his heel and descended
the hill.

“That man, for some reason or other, doesn’t wish any visitors in
these parts,” was the reflection of Inwood, “and he has a special
objection to white men. There is some connection between what I have
seen and that island out in the lake.”

Having learned all that he deemed it safe to learn, he carefully made
his way out of his hiding place, and soon after rejoined his friends
behind the grove. Jim had had some difficulty in controlling the
actions of the mule, but he had succeeded at last in bringing him to
a stop by shying him against the trunk of a tree, as he swung round
his circle.

“Dat’s de way to put de brakes on,” said Jim, “no danger ob de wheels
slippin’--fotched him up _chock_!”

“I suppose you didn’t understand what I meant,” remarked George, as
he resumed his horse, “but I discovered a man watching us, and I
wanted to watch him a little.”

“Did you see him?”

“Yes; but I took good care that he didn’t see me. You heard a gun
fired shortly after you left. That was done by him, and he took
deliberate aim at you, but the distance proved too great.”

As might be expected, this announcement created quite a sensation.

“He is a white man,” added George, “although he is disguised as an
Indian. Why he should do so, I cannot understand, but I suspect
he does not want any one to know that there are white men in this
vicinity. It might draw others here, to which he appears to have a
strong objection.”

“It has sumfin’ to do wid dat ’ere island!” asserted Jim.

“I believe you are correct.”

“An’ dere is _spooks_ about, so’ de best ting we can do is to
trabble. I--I--I--don’t tink the air around here ’grees wid me.”

“We must find a suitable place and settle down here for a few months,
or, at any rate, until I understand the mystery about this Enchanted
Island.”

“Jus’ as you says; I don’t care about Ingins, for I can come de gold
trick ober dem, but I don’t like _spooks_.”

“Can’t you serve them the same way?”

“No; dey won’t hold still; dey is always oneasy, an’ den I’s afeered
ob ’em.”

“They have never harmed any one as yet.”

“But dey will carry you off--dat’s what dey will do.”

“Do you think we are going to find any gold?” inquired Edwin.

“We may and we may not; the chances are equally good in almost any
place in this section.”

“I suppose there is plenty of hunting?”

“Yes; and we will let you range the woods. Jim may look for gold,
while I keep my eye on this island. I think we shall all find enough
to interest us.”

“I’s no ’bjection, so long as I don’t have to hunt _spooks_,” replied
the negro.

“It seems to me,” continued George, pointing to the south, “that off
yonder must be a good place for our camping ground. Suppose we make a
search there?”

“Dat’s good,” said Jim, with a pleased countenance, “don’t you see
dat de mule has got his head turned dat way. Jus’ wait a minute.”

The animal was shoved a little to one side, so as to go clear of the
tree, when he instantly started off on his long, loping walk, while
the rest followed.

The point indicated by George Inwood was a mile away, and when they
reached it, they found themselves on the border of a large wood, with
an undergrowth of almost impenetrable density. A small stream of
clear cold water gushed silently forth; and, following up the pebbly
bed of this for several yards, they made an abrupt turn to the right,
when they fixed upon their camping ground. A small space was cleared
off, and their tent erected, when they made search for a grazing
ground for their horses. This was found without much difficulty, and,
by the middle of the afternoon, they were fairly settled in their new
quarters.

They had enough provisions to give them a meal, when they all lay
down to rest and chat over matters.

“To-morrow, Edwin, you start on your hunt,” said George, “and, as we
are in a totally new country, you must use extra caution.”

“What shall I bring you?” asked the young hunter, “a grizzly bear or
an antelope?”

“I prefers an antelope,” replied Jim, “an’ if you comes across a
grizzly b’ar, you’d better take my advice an’ give him a wide berfh.”

“Yes; fire your gun only when it is necessary; don’t be tempted aside
by any wish for sport, or any ambition to become a great hunter.”

Edwin had received this advice so often that he did not see the
necessity of its being repeated. He could only repeat his intention
to be prudent and careful, as he had been at all times.

“As we have several hours of daylight before us,” continued Inwood,
“suppose we make a reconnoisance of the lake?”

“Dat ’ere will suit me,” replied Jim, “I want you to see dat island
fly away. I know you won’t b’lieve it till you see it.”

“That I certainly shall not; you will go with us, Edwin?”

“I would rather take a ramble in another direction, if you are
willing.”

“Certainly; try and be in before dusk. Come, Jim, if you are ready.”

They stepped into the brook, and, walking on the hard, pebbly bed,
soon emerged into the open, rocky country, about a mile distant from
the lake.

“Now, Jim,” said Inwood, “we must be particularly cautious. There are
other white men in this neighborhood, and I am sure if they knew we
were here, they would as lief kill us as not, to get us out of the
way.”

“’Spose so; but den what would _we_ do all dat time?” was the surly
demand of the African. “While dey was doing dat, we’d have de chance
to try de _gold trick_. I would just as lieb see dem as not--a little
lieber, I tink.”

“I would not; if we can get along without trouble, it is our duty
to do so, and I particularly request you to be cautious in your
movements. The man that I watched has already fired his gun at us,
and if he can steal up within a hundred feet, it isn’t likely he’ll
make such a miss as he did awhile ago.”

“Hang ’em! what do dey wish to shoot us for?”

“That’s the question which I wish to settle.”

“An’ what does he want to make hisself look like one ob dem darkeys
for, ’stead ob being ’spectable?”

“It is all curious, Jim, but I have hopes that we may penetrate the
mystery before long.”

All this time the two men were carefully making their way toward the
lake, both of them constantly gazing about them to discover any signs
of danger. Inwood saw nothing, and was about to congratulate himself
upon the secrecy which had attended their entrance into this strange
section, when Jim suddenly started.

“Dere he is! look dere!”

“Where?”

He pointed a little to the right of the lake; but, as Inwood followed
the direction of his finger, he saw nothing, and so he said.

“He jest now dropped down--right dere--let’s foller him up,”
exclaimed the negro, dashing straight at the spot, while Inwood
speedily followed him, hardly certain whether he was acting prudently
or not in doing so.

All the time they kept their eyes fixed upon the point, and the
nature of the ground being such that the stranger could not escape
without being seen, they were confident of either catching or
identifying him. Jim made good progress despite his ungainly manner
of traveling, and, in a few minutes, he came upon the place, which
consisted of a small rock raised about a foot above the surface.
Dashing forward, he made a spring over it, his immense feet coming
down simultaneously and tremendously.

“_Dere, I got you! hold still now, for you is fast!_”

But he wasn’t, no one was there.




CHAPTER IX.


Inwood laughed at the look of his sable friend, as he gazed about
him, as if he did not understand the meaning of all this.

“Where is your man?” he asked.

“Gracious! I don’t know; wonder if I didn’t mash him down into
de ground,” he said, stepping to one side and reviewing the huge
footprints which he had made in the sod. “He ain’t dere! wonder where
he went?”

“I suspect he hasn’t been there at all. You must have been mistaken,
Jim. Are there any other footprints?”

After strict search they failed to find any, and Inwood was satisfied
of Jim’s mistake, although the latter was loth to admit it.

“Now,” said Inwood, “I am going to find out all I can about matters
and things. If you choose you can go home, or you can remain here.”

“If it’s all de same to you, I tinks I’ll retire,” said Jim,
displaying considerable eagerness to get out of the immediate
neighborhood. Inwood watched him until he disappeared from view as he
went crouching among the rocks and hills back to his hiding place.

It was now near nightfall, and our young friend deemed it best to
make himself invisible until he could reconnoitre with safety in the
darkness. In this wild, rocky country, it was easy to find a secure
hiding place, and this he did, first satisfying himself that he was
not watched in his manœuvres.

Night finally descended upon mountain and lake, and when it was fully
dark, Inwood crept cautiously forth, and approached the edge of the
water. The moon did not rise until late, and he was sure that if any
sentinel was on guard, he had not detected his approach. He had come
upon the lake at a point several hundred yards removed from the point
where the canon debouched into it, and he sat down for a few moments
to meditate upon the best thing to do.

As he sat and listened, he was sure he heard a faint rippling out
upon the lake near the point where he could just make out the dark
outlines of the island looming up in the distance; but the gloom
prevented his discovering anything more. Behind and around him was
darkness, and in that solemn moment, George Inwood (naturally devout
and thoughtful) lifted up his heart to the great Being above the
stars, and sat for a time in blissful communion, such as the men of
the world can never know.

He felt that this was a strange undertaking upon which he was about
to venture, and, with the simplicity of a child, he asked that he
might do that only which was right, and that he and those with him
might be protected to the end.

He concluded, after fully deliberating upon the matter, to remove his
clothing, and swim out to the island. By this means he could examine
it silently and thoroughly, and with more safety than if he remained
on shore waiting for a suitable opportunity.

His clothing was rolled into a bundle, and placed in a niche among
the rocks, after which he took his bearings to make sure of no
difficulty in recovering them. This done, he waded carefully out,
immediately rushing above his head into the chilly waters. The first
shock over, the lake felt cool and pleasant, and he struck out slowly
and easily toward the island.

As he neared the place which had created such wonder, he slowed his
strokes, until he barely moved through the water, while he kept his
eyes and ears open. Nothing suspicious rewarded his vigilance, and
he was on the point of advancing more rapidly, when he detected the
outlines of a man standing on the very edge of the island nearest him.

Inwood was so close that at first he was sure he had been discovered;
but, as the stranger gave no evidence of suspecting anything, he
slowly backed water, and gradually worked his way round to the
opposite side. Here he dallied awhile, until seeing nothing alarming,
he began making his way in.

But again, at this very juncture, he caught the glimmer of a light,
heard the suppressed murmur of a voice, followed by a gentle
plashing. The next moment he made the startling discovery that,
while he was not approaching the island, it was approaching him. An
indescribable thrill ran through him, and he understood the feeling
which Jim had expressed; but his own sense forbade any faltering, and
he concluded to wait for the “mountain to come to Mohamet.”

A moment later he touched the edge of the island, and then learned
that instead of earth, his hands were resting against logs, and that
they extended several feet below the surface.

“I have learned one thing,” was the reflection of Inwood, “this
Enchanted Island rests upon logs, and isn’t much more than a
skilfully covered raft.”

But the question still remained, as to what it all meant. What
earthly reason could there be for a floating island in the midst of
a lonely lake? There was some object beyond all question, and he
resolved, if possible, to ascertain it for himself.

As he floated along with the island, he heard the grating of poles
upon the bottom of the lake, and it was therefore easy to comprehend
the means of locomotion. Shortly after he detected shadowy forms
passing to and fro, as they busied themselves in shoving the craft
along. The phantom like appearance of things was increased by the
silence with which these men worked. As yet, he had not heard a
whisper exchanged between them.

Inwood right speedily appreciated the delicately dangerous position
in which he was placed. One of the raftmen, as he drove his pole down
into the water, just missed driving it into his crown, but he was
an excellent swimmer, and he relied upon his skill in the perilous
feature which this adventure was putting on.

“The old thing moves rather heavy!” finally remarked one of the men,
in a gruff voice.

“Yes,” was the response, “it acts as if the logs were becoming
water-soaked. I’ve noticed for the last day or two that it seems to
have sunk a few inches.”

“I s’pose maybe it’s carrying a pretty good load.”

This remark seemed to contain some hidden meaning which pleased the
fancy of the others, for they all indulged in a quiet laugh.

These words, as a matter of course, were overheard by Inwood, who was
puzzled more and more to understand their meaning; but the men did
not seem to take up a train of remarks calculated to enlighten him.
They plied the unwieldy craft for a few minutes longer in silence,
and then, as one paused to rest a moment, he spoke in this manner to
him who was standing nearest:

“Too bad that a parcel should come down on us at this time.”

“Yes; and I’m afraid they’re going to stay.”

“We gave the darkey a good enough fright to keep him away, but that
man doesn’t look as if he could be frightened by any such thing.”

“There’s a youngster, too, I noticed to-day, when I fired at them.”

“Very likely they’ll get far enough away not to trouble us any more.
It looked to me as though the darkey had brought them back to take a
look at the lake and island, seeing which, they were satisfied and
went back.”

“I hope so, for it’s too bad----”

At this juncture, the man thrust his pole into the water, and applied
his strength to it, as a consequence of which, his words came so
mutilated through his closed teeth as to be unintelligible to the
intensely interested person on the other side.

All at once, Inwood felt his feet touch the bottom, and, turning his
head, saw that they were within a hundred yards of the shore. Whether
they intended anchoring a short distance from the land, or to lie
against it, was unknown to him, although he surmised the latter, as
the depth remained the same, and they still used their poles with
the same resolve as at first.

If Inwood was right in his conjectures on this point, he saw that he
must evacuate his position to escape being jammed between it and the
rock.

Moving carefully along the edge of the raft, he made his way around
the end, when he became aware of another fact which could not fail
to give him uneasiness. The moon was rising, and as soon as it came
above the wood or mountain, could scarcely fail to reveal him; but,
as a few moments later they would be along the shore, he conjectured
that if the worst came to worst, he could dart into the wood and take
his chances of escape.

Shortly after, the Enchanted Island lightly touched the shore,
and immediately, to the delight of Inwood, the three men whom he
had noticed, sprang off and disappeared with rather a remarkable
abruptness--so singular indeed that he believed they intended to
return, and he therefore maintained his position until this point was
settled.

Fifteen or twenty minutes passing away, and bringing no sight nor
sound of them, he hesitated a moment, and then concluded to clamber
upon the island and satisfy himself, so far as possible, regarding
it. Still a vague sense or danger restrained him. It did not seem
improbable that a sentinel was stationed upon this curious piece of
workmanship, although if such were the case, he took particular good
care to keep quiet and unobserved.

To satisfy himself, Inwood, with his hands drew himself twice
entirely around the island. This gave him an accurate idea of
its size, and showed him that its base was wood. He saw nothing
suspicious, although a dozen men could have been effectually
concealed in the dense shrubbery.

Suddenly a whim took possession of him to dive beneath it, and
examine its construction as he passed along. This plan offered the
least danger, and the breadth of the island was such that he could do
it with little or no difficulty.

Sinking softly downward until he reached the lowest point, he struck
rapidly out, and had taken but one stroke beneath the surface, when
he came abruptly upward, and as he threw his hands above, felt
nothing but the water. The next moment, to his unbounded surprise,
he found that he was in the center of the island, which enclosed him
on every side. In fact, it was a floating circle, the middle portion
being open and full of water.

George felt around until he placed his hand upon a support, when
he came to the conclusion that he had advanced another step in the
solution of this mystery, but the step had taken him into as blank
darkness as had the first move he made.

Here was proof that the Enchanted Island, as he had named it from
his first impression, was the careful work of human hands, although
why it ever should have been made was totally unexplainable. In the
midst of his meditation on this point, he was not a little startled
to observe, by the increasing light of the moon, the figure of a man,
undoubtedly a sentinel, who, by the nodding of his head, was either
half or wholly asleep.

Which was a very fortunate thing for Mr. Inwood, otherwise he could
not have failed of discovering himself to him. Sheltered by the shade
of the shrubbery, he made as hasty examination as possible of the
contour of this interior basin, but could discover nothing more than
that it was oblong in shape, and quite even around its edges.

It was while engaged in this survey that the man arose and looked
down into the water, as if he saw something suspicious.

“There’s _something_ there!” he muttered in an audible voice, “and
I’ve heard it more than once. It’s a queer fish, I think.”

The queer fish, at this juncture, deemed it prudent to sink down and
retreat to the outer surface of the lake, which place he reached just
in time to see his man standing along shore with a huge pole, as if
watching for him to rise. Fortunately, he was so close to the shore,
as to be in shadow, and, feeling his way along, he speedily reached
land, where he waited until his friend’s attention was called in
another direction, when he crawled out, somewhat weakened by his long
habitation in the water.

But the object of his reconnoisance, so far as possible, was
obtained, and he set out on his return. He experienced some
difficulty in recovering his clothing, but succeeded at last, and
started rapidly homeward. He was not a little alarmed upon reaching
the place to find that neither Jim nor Edwin was there.




CHAPTER X.


Young Edwin Inwood had been deprived so long of his hunt, that he
determined to improve his time to the utmost. He took a direction
exactly opposite to the one pursued by his brother, and soon found
himself in the midst of the wood which contained their new home,
where it was open and easily traveled.

It was his wish to secure an antelope, which were quite abundant
in this section, although almost entirely unknown a little further
south, and he walked very carefully, well aware of the acuteness of
their hearing. A quarter of a mile or so brought him to a broad, wild
ravine, and, looking down this, the first object that met his eye
was a group of Mohave Indians seated around a camp-fire. Three sat
smoking, and two were engaged in dressing a fine plump antelope, and
preparing it for their supper.

They were fully a hundred feet below where the boy stood, and several
hundred yards distant. He watched them for some time with interest.
Each had around his person or near him, one of those brilliant and
wonderfully woven blankets, which have made the Indians of the
distant southwest known all over the country. They were painted and
daubed up like a lot of children’s toys, their coarse black hair
hanging loosely over their shoulders, while its usual stiffness was
intensified by the rainbow-hued stuff smeared among it. It makes a
fellow look hideously comical to see his face of all colors, and
there was something in the outlandish look of these Mohaves which
would have brought a grim smile to the countenance of him who had
scarcely ever laughed.

They never once raised their heads, although Edwin scrutinized them
so closely that he was sure they were a portion of the party which
had attacked them at the cave, and he recognized the very individual
who was so handsomely vanquished in his attempt to shake hands with
Jim Tubbs. This being the case, he entertained much less fear of them
than he would, had they been strangers.

But, recollecting that he had come out for the purpose of obtaining
food, he turned away and wandered off in another direction. While
he was asking himself whether it would be prudent to fire his gun
in their vicinity or not, a fine plump young antelope rushed by him
with the speed of the wind. Quick as thought his gun was over his
shoulder, and, with a frenzied leap, the beautiful creature dropped,
and, after a few frantic struggles, lay dead.

Edwin hurried up to him, and, drawing his knife, commenced dressing
it and securing the choicest portions for their supper. Absorbed thus
in his work, he forgot entirely the proximity of the aborigines. He
had about completed his work, when, with lightning-like suddenness, a
reflection of his peril came over him, and he rose erect and glanced
about him.

Providentially his first look was directed toward the proper point,
and he saw at quite a distance two Indians, standing perfectly
motionless, and watching him seemingly with great interest. The
moment he raised his head they darted each behind a tree, evidently
not through fear, but with a far different object.

Edwin was a boy with an intelligence and perception beyond his years,
and he immediately saw his danger, and looked furtively around to
learn the best direction in which to retreat. His first thought was
to run straight from the red men and, observing that the wood was
thicker and more broken, he did not hesitate, but started off at once.

Casting one glance over his shoulder, he observed the two aborigines
after him, although neither of them gave utterance to the “yell,”
which, with the proverbial “_ugh_,” seems to be about the only
language which ever emerges from the lips of the North American
Indian, if the authority of story writers is to be taken.

In a race of this kind, we could not dare risk our reputation in
saying that the little fellow was anything like a match for his lithe
pursuers. He hadn’t been in training as long as they, and it was
impossible that the cowardly Mohaves should not gain upon him with
sad certainty.

All of which he expected, and he therefore turned all his energies
toward finding some place in which he could conceal himself. Bounding
over and among the rough and rugged rocks, he turned at right angles
to the course he had been following, darted a few rods ahead, and
then, to his dismay, found himself on the banks of a small, rapid
stream.

But there was no time for hesitation. He ran along the shore a little
way, and then rapidly climbed a small tree, dragging his rifle as
best he could after him. Here he crouched among the branches, and,
panting and trembling, awaited the result.

As yet, he had not heard a sound, but he did not dare hope that his
pursuers were off the scent. He had read certain wonderful tales of
the miraculous prowess of the “red men of the woods,” and had every
reason to believe that they were perfect bloodhounds in such matters.

Nor was he mistaken; for he had not been in his elevated position
five minutes, when, through the interstices of the leaves, he saw one
of them walking along the edge of the stream, carefully examining the
ground, occasionally pausing and looking about him, and now and then
making a curious, gyrating motion with his hand over his head, which
the boy did not understand, but which we suspect was a signal for his
companion.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world for Edwin Inwood
to load his gun, and shoot the Mohave who was stealing so cautiously
upon him; but he hesitated. It is no light thing to take a human
life, even if it belong to an Indian, and he did not wish to commit
such a deed, unless his own self preservation demanded it. Whether it
did or not was the question which the boy considered, and upon which
he was hardly able to decide.

Suppose he did slay the red man, his companion remained, against
whom he could do nothing, and who would be sure to visit a cruel
punishment upon him. No; he decided that the time had not yet come
for him to do such a thing.

In the meantime, the Mohave was close at hand. Not once did he
raise his head, but walked slowly along, examining the ground, and
looking across the stream as though he expected to see the fugitive.
The heart of the latter gave a throb as he saw him pass beyond the
tree which contained himself; but the temporary hope thus awakened
was speedily dispelled by observing the red man suddenly halt, look
around him as though he failed, for the moment, exactly to comprehend
things, and then he raised his head and saw the youngster cowering
among the branches.

The Mohave surveyed him quietly a moment, and then motioned for him
to descend. The boy could not refuse, as he was entirely in his
power, and he obeyed without delay. The captor looked into his face
with a curious expression, but still uttered no exclamation or word.
Finally, he took him by the arm, led him a short distance down the
stream of the brook, and then motioned for him to fall behind and
follow.

On the whole, this struck Edwin as rather a curious proceeding. The
Mohave had not deprived him of his gun, and did not even take the
trouble to examine whether it was loaded or not, nor did he once look
over his shoulder to see whether he was followed by the captive.
It was a strong temptation to the latter to dart aside, and make
another effort to get away, but he could hardly bring his mind to the
“sticking point.”

As a matter of course, Edwin had strong hope of getting out of this
difficulty, and he therefore paid strict attention to the route which
they followed, so as not to be lost, when the opportunity should come
to him. The Mohave literally took the “back track,” going over his
own footsteps, and turning off from the stream at precisely the point
where the boy first struck it.

As yet there was nothing seen of the other Indian, and the boy
was wondering where he could have taken himself, when he made his
appearance as suddenly as if he had risen from the very ground. He
seemed to entertain the same constitutional objection to talking as
did his predecessor, for not a word was exchanged between them. One
walked in the front and the other in the rear of the boy, so that,
for the present, he gave over all thoughts of taking abrupt leave of
them.

The party passed directly by the remains of the antelope slain by
Edwin, and so on until they reached the gorge where he had first
descried the Mohaves as they were seated around the camp-fire. This
led the boy to think that they were a part of those who had besieged
them in the cave.

Whether this was a matter for congratulation or fear was more than he
could determine, although it gave him hope that the captured Mohave
might be among them, who he was sure would not forget the magnanimity
shown him when he was at the mercy of those whom he sought to injure.

Nightfall was close at hand, and the party made their preparations
for remaining on the old camping-ground of their former friends.
They had a portion of the antelope with them, and offered a piece to
Edwin, who accepted it more for the sake of pleasing them, than on
account of any hunger he felt. After this, they seated themselves
upon the ground, and motioned for him to do the same. Their pipes
were then produced, and then began the longest and dreariest evening
of Edwin Inwood’s life.

He lay on the ground, looking up at the stars, communing with the
Great Being who dwelt beyond them, wondering what George and Jim
thought of his prolonged absence, and speculating as to what the
morrow would bring forth. Hour after hour wore away, and it was near
midnight, when his ear detected a faint, regular jarring of the
ground, and, raising his head, he saw through the gloom a party of
men close at hand.




CHAPTER XI.


“I doesn’t care ’tic’larly ’bout gittin’ ’quainted wid any _spooks_,”
muttered Jim Tubbs, after bidding good-bye to George Inwood, as the
latter started on his reconnoisance of the Enchanted Island.

“Dat ’ere George was always a fearsome boy eber since he was a little
codger, dat used to ride de hosses at home in ole New York--nebber
could make him b’lebe any stories about ghosts, an’ hobblegoblins,
an’ spooks. Beats all natur’ how queer some folks be; I don’t care
much for darkeys, whedder dey be red or black, while he does; but
when _spooks_ is around, I ’fers to be ’scused, while he don’t.”

Thus did the African commune with himself, as he made his way
carefully from the lake and its phantom-like island. Not until he was
far from it, did he pause, look around, and ask himself what was the
best thing for him to do.

“I has de ’pinion dat when I ’grated to dese parts, I come arter
_gold_, an’ dat’s what I’m going to hunt for at present. I sometimes
tinks I orter be de ’prietor ob dis ’stablishment, as I ’wested de
most money. Howsumeber, Mr. Tubbs, we’ll ’scuse de ’scussion ob dat
question to some subsequent ’casion.”

Without suspecting it, the African took almost precisely the same
direction as that followed by Edwin Inwood. As he was looking for
gold, he went along the margin of a small stream, and began examining
its banks and current for some signs of auriferous deposit.

“Dey say you’re the most aptest to find gold near de water, ’less you
find it somewhere else--so I’ll take a peep. O!----”

Jim stopped, absolutely thunderstruck, for there in the water before
him he saw a large piece of yellow metal, whose nature he divined at
a glance. Plunging forward the next instant, he seized it in his
hand, and held it up, and turned it over. It was a piece of pure
gold, nearly the size of a hen’s egg. It lay imbedded in the sand,
only a small portion displaying itself.

The dusky fellow could scarcely restrain his delight. He turned it
over and over again, and danced about, and laughed, and almost cried.
Finally he sobered down.

“Dat’s de best fish I ebber catched an’ I’ve fished a good deal.
Shouldn’t wonder if dere’s some more ob ’em ’bout.”

There was some reason, if not much truth, in this conclusion, and he
fell to work with might and main. The stream was about a dozen feet
in breadth, some eighteen or twenty inches in depth, with a clear
current, and a hard, sandy bottom. As he had not his tools with him,
he laid his rifle on the bank, and procured a heavy stick with which
he raked the sand hither and thither in his search.

A few minutes’ search revealed another piece considerably smaller
than the first, but large enough to fill Jim’s heart with joy.

“Talk about _spooks_!” he exclaimed contemptuously, “dat ’ere lump ob
yaller stuff is more interesting dan all de _spooks_ on de lake or in
de wood. I tinks I’ll settle here for de present.”

He plied his rude rake with unabated vigor, but nothing more rewarded
his labor. He gradually worked his way up the channel, so intent on
his labor as not to observe or care for aught that took place around
him.

This persevering toil undoubtedly would have continued until
darkness, had it not been checked in a most sudden and alarming
manner. Jim’s head was bent down, as he grovelled in the dust, when
a peculiar, whirring noise caught his ear, and he looked up just in
time to see a dark, circling ring descending over him, and, ere he
could dodge, the loop of the lasso dropped to his elbows, and was
drawn taut with the quickness of lightning.

The huge fellow comprehended his predicament in an instant, and
exerted his giant strength to the utmost to free himself.

“Dat ’ere will nebber do! My gracious, dey’ll got all my gold!”

So great was his strength, that, in all probability, he would have
broken the rope which enclosed his arms; but, in the midst of his
furious struggles, a second lasso, from nearly an opposite point,
shot up in the air, and, in spite of the attempt he made to dodge it,
came down with unerring certainty, and helped imprison his arms.

“Dat ’ere is a little too lubbin’,” muttered Jim, toiling like
a giant in his bonds, but, finding himself unable to accomplish
anything in this manner, he resorted to different tactics.

“I can _pull_, if I can’t break.”

With which, he made a furious plunge up the bank, thereby entailing
a rather ludicrous occurrence. The Mohave who had hurled the second
lasso, simply held it in his hand, he and his companion instantly
dropping out of sight the moment they threw their ropes. The sudden
and tremendous strain upon the rope found him totally unprepared,
and he came scrambling headlong out of the bushes and over the bank
before he could recover himself, observing which, Jim made a dash at
him; but, as the first red man had secured his around the point of a
projecting rock, the doughty fellow was brought up with a round turn,
and the other made all haste to rectify the mistake which he had
committed.

“Lucky for you I couldn’t cotch you! If I’d got one ob dem feet ob
mine on you, I’d have mashed you.”

At this juncture the red men revealed themselves, three of them
rising to their feet, and all motioning to their captive to come
ashore. This command he obeyed, all the time puzzling his wits to see
whether there was not some means by which he could extricate himself.
The third Indian placed his loop over his arms, and they then mounted
their horses, fastening the ropes to the saddle, and taking good care
to keep their sable prey at a respectable distance.

Poor Jim Tubbs was now fairly secured. The three ropes, which encased
him like a child, were woven of a peculiar thread, which made their
tenacity almost equal to that of strands of iron. The Mohaves were
perfect adepts at this kind of business, and, coming upon the African
unawares, they had effected his capture with rare skill.

“Dey’ve got me dis time, sure,” he reflected, as he walked along
between their horses, “an’ de ’portant question is, what am dey gwine
to do wid me, an’ when dey gwine to do it, an’ how dey gwine to do
it, an’ how it’s gwine to ’gree wid me when dey come to do it.”

He walked along a short distance in silence, but his thoughts were
busy.

“I remember dat dat gentleman in New York dat put up at my boarding
house, said de Ingins sometimes roasted de prisoners what dey took.
Gracious! I hope dey don’t s’pose to do dat wid me.”

He scanned the face of each one for a few moments, and concluded:

“Dey don’t look very awful in de face; don’t b’leeve dey’ll roast me.
Oh! jus’ hear dem gold pieces clink in my pocket. Wonder if I can’t
bribe ’em wid one ob ’em to let me off. But den dey don’t know what
gold am worth; dey’d jus’ as lieb hab my jack-knife, an’ I’d jus’ as
lieb hab it, too; so I tinks I’ll let it stay in my pocket fur de
present. Mighty glad dey didn’t tink ’bout my ole gun in de grass,
for I can go back an’ get it myself arter a while.”

That “after awhile” was the “to-morrow” of the unrepentant--a period
about which one might reasonably entertain a few grains of doubt.
Jim was philosopher enough, seeing that there was no help under the
circumstances to take things as a matter of course. He walked along
quietly and peacefully, the Mohaves being sharp enough to keep an
unremitting watch upon his every movement.

Just as night was setting in, they halted near a pile of rocks, where
one of their number collected sticks, and speedily started a fire. In
this portion of California during the summer season, it is generally
very warm and oppressive, but the last few days had been remarkably
cool, and a fire was by no means unwelcome. The cramped position of
his limbs made him chilly, and he came as near to the blaze as they
would permit. No food was prepared, nor did the fellow care for any.

An hour or two after dark, and while the Mohaves were pulling at
their pipes, and Jim was half asleep on the ground, he heard a
footstep, and, raising his head, saw near him the identical Indian
with whom he had shaken hands so emphatically. The African’s
complexion was such as to make him easily recognizable, and the
start and glance of the red man told plainly that there was no
misunderstanding upon his part.

“How do you do?” inquired Jim, with a nod of his head. “If you’ll
untie my arms, I’ll shake hands with you again.”

The Indian seemed pleased in his way at meeting the man who had
vanquished him so nicely. He offered no rudeness to the captive but
came nearer, and, seating himself upon the ground, smoked his pipe.

This was extremely gratifying to the sable individual, for it was
proof positive that the Mohave had not forgotten the kindness which
he had received, and that he was well disposed toward the unfortunate
African.

“How lucky dat he doesn’t know I wanted to come de gold trick ober
him--don’t b’lebe he’d tink so much ob me. Tank you, I guess I’ll
smoke.”

He inclined his head forward, and the pipe stem was inserted between
his teeth, and he puffed at him in a style which showed that there
was no pretended enjoyment on his part.

“Dat ’ere tastes good, I can tell you,” he said, with an expression
on his shiny face of genuine pleasure. “I’s much obliged to you, an’
you needn’t be ’fraid ob ’fending me if you want to offer it to me
to-morrer agin.”

The Mohave knowing nothing at all of English, and Jim Tubbs
understanding not the first syllable of Mohave, it is not to be
supposed that they got along very well in conversation. Jim tried
increasing the loudness of his voice, but that did not seem to help
matters, and their communication therefore took the character of
signs, the African’s words being thrown in by way of embellishment.

After he had smoked awhile, he turned his back so that the Mohave
might see how his arms were bound, and then said:

“Jus’ cut dem, won’t you? I’ll be much obliged.”

The Indian unquestionably understood the request, but he was not
satisfied as to the propriety of granting it. He looked at his
companions, exchanged a few words, when they came up and debated the
matter.

“I won’t run away--I’ll promise you dat--feller treats me kind, I’ll
do de same wid him--gib you my word ob honor.”

They seemed disposed to grant his desire, but before doing so, began
a search to assure themselves that he had not any weapons of offense
about him. Jim sat motionless, except when he assisted them as much
as possible, never once thinking of the gold until he heard the two
pieces jingle together in his pocket. Instantly he started up in
terror.

“I hain’t got noffin dere--dat am sartin’--no use ob feelin’ dat
pocket.”

But a coppery-hued hand was already inserted, and the next instant it
drew out the two yellow pieces.

“Dem ain’t mine,” added Jim, and then, unwilling to tell an untruth,
he added, “dey ain’t, sartin--’cause I’ve got to divide wid de rest.”

They were passed back and forth, the Indians seeming to care very
little about them. When they reached the hands of the hand-shaking
Mohave, he turned them over several times, and then replaced them in
the pocket of the rightful owner.

“Gracious! but you’re a good feller,” exclaimed Jim, “if it wan’t
fur de boys, I b’lebe I’d settle down among you, an’ take you fur
my bruvver chief, if you’ll only let my arms loose, you needn’t be
afreed dat I’ll swing ’em round careless.”

The obliging Mohaves, at this point removed the lassoes from his
limbs, and left his body entirely unrestrained--a proceeding like
the former, the result of the magnanimity showed the Indian, when he
expected no mercy.

“I ’gin to tink George is right,” mused Jim, “he always told me to
be kind to ebery one, no matter if he was your enemy. If I had come
de gold trick ober dis feller, he wouldn’t have been half so cleber.
Gracious! he wouldn’t have been at all.”

The prisoner was now almost entirely at ease, and had given over all
fear of his own personal safety. He argued that they would not be so
lenient and considerate, if they intended any ultimate harm, and he
endeavored to content himself as well as he could until the morrow,
which he hoped would see him set at liberty.

As the night wore on, none of the party seemed to be sensible of
its somniferous tendency. The Mohaves remained wide awake, and Jim
had had too many things in his mind to feel drowsy. The former kept
consulting together, and finally, when it was quite late, they all
arose, and with the prisoner between them, started off.

A half hour later, they came upon the party which held Edwin Inwood.




CHAPTER XII.


It was a painful surprise both to Edwin Inwood and Jim Tubbs
when they met each other in captivity. They conversed together,
and acquainted themselves with their mutual history after their
separation during the day.

“Poor George will be anxious enough about us,” said the boy. “I feel
worse on his account than I do on my own.”

“What’s de matter wid him?” asked the negro, not exactly
comprehending the force of this remark.

“Nothing, so far as I know; but what will he think when he comes back
and finds nothing of us?”

“Tink we ain’t dere, I s’pose.”

“I don’t believe these people intend us any harm. They have treated
us both so kindly that they will let us go to-morrow.”

“Hope so.”

“I see among these who came with you, the same one that we had in the
cave the other day.”

“Yes; me an’ him are great friends,” replied Jim, with an important
air. “I kinder tink he always had a notion of me.”

They chatted together until toward morning, when, becoming sleepy,
both lay down upon the ground, and slept until daylight. The African
race is proverbial for its drowsy proclivities, and it required
some hard shaking upon the part of Edwin before he could arouse his
companion. But once awake, he was thoroughly so, and he arose to his
feet.

The Mohaves had the camp-fire burning, and a number of birds, which
resembled quails, cooking, while they had collected quite a quantity
of mesquite beans, very numerous more south in California, and
occasionally encountered further north. These furnished an abundant
and nourishing breakfast, much needed by our friends.

Daylight brought another surprise in the shape of a third prisoner--a
large, stalwart looking man, dressed in the garb of an Indian--in
fact, no other personage than he who had guarded the lake and the
Enchanted Island so zealously. He was sullen and obstinate, and
his hands had been tied behind him for the purpose of security.
He scowled at his fellow prisoners, as he was brought up, and
undoubtedly hated them as thoroughly as he did his captors.

On the other hand, the Mohaves were particularly vindictive toward
the man, and, from his appearance, had been subjecting him to
suffering and torture for their own amusement. Only two held him,
and they must certainly have secured him by strategy, as he was
almost as muscular as Jim, and would have been an ugly customer in a
hand-to-hand struggle.

“They’ve got quite a lot of us,” he remarked, addressing Inwood.

“Yes; dar am tree ob us.”

The stranger paid no heed to the negro, but spoke directly to Inwood.

“I s’pose you know what tribe these belong to?” he continued.

Edwin made answer that he did not.

“They are Mohaves--a villainous set of dogs. I consider ’em as bad as
the Apaches, and you know they are as ugly as ugly can be.”

“They have treated us kindly.”

“Yes,” replied the stranger, with a contemptuous expression, “you
will find out. You remember the Oatman family that were massacred,
except a boy and two girls, in ’49, in crossing the plains?”

“Yes; I saw the son in New York, and one of the sisters, with her
chin all tattooed with India ink, which they said the Indians did
when they had her with them.”

“Do you know what tribe murdered them?”

“I heard, but I have forgotten.”

“It was these same Mohaves, and there ain’t a more villainous set of
dogs this side of the Mississippi. You may make up your mind, as I
have, that you’ll never see that sun go down again.”

This was uttered coolly, but with such an air of conviction as to its
truth, as to send a chill to the hearts of the hearers.

“Bress de Lord! you don’t mean dat?” asked Jim, fairly quaking with
terror. The stranger turned toward him, and said:

“There’s no chance for _you_, for I never seen an Indian that didn’t
hate a nigger, and I’m with ’em there myself. If I could say the
word, I wouldn’t get _you_ out of this scrape, for you’ve no business
in these parts.”

“Bress your heart! nobody has axed you to say a word; I’d rather hab
de ill will ob such a miserable lookin’ darkey as you dan your lub,
an’ if you doesn’t like it, all I’ve got to say is, dat I’m at your
sarvice, an’ you can help yourself.”

The stranger glared at Jim like a wild beast, but as his own hands
were tied, and those of the African’s were not, he was unable to help
himself.

“O, you needn’t look so lubbin’ at me!” said Jim, “I ain’t afeerd ob
you; I’ll try an’ coax ’em to ontie your hands, an’ den we’ll hug
each other, if you want to.”

The stranger’s feelings were inexpressible, and in his supreme
contempt, he turned his back upon the negro, and addressed himself
directly to Edwin.

“My name is Gaylor, and I’ve been out in these parts about a year,
with a lot of others. We’ve had to dodge and fight the Indians all
the time, and they know me well enough I reckon, and there ain’t any
great amount of love atween us. I’ve played some purty smart tricks
upon ’em, but they got ahead of me at last. I was so tired last night
that I lay down to sleep, and when I woke up, a couple of ’em had me
fast, sure, and--well, you see I’m here with you.”

Inwood gave the particulars of their own misfortune, and then
inquired:

“What have you been doing here?”

Gaylor hesitated a moment, showed some confusion, but quickly
rallying himself, replied:

“The same as yourself, I suppose; we have been looking for gold.”

“You must have found something, or you would not have remained so
long.”

“Well, yes, we have had tolerable luck--putty good I may say toward
the last--but what good is it going to do me?”

“Not much, I am afraid, nor us either; but you had a number of
friends with you, will they not attempt your rescue?”

Gaylor shook his head.

“No use of looking there; they’ll be sure I’ve been rubbed out, and
won’t take the trouble to hunt me up.”

“How many are there?”

“Three beside myself. They think enough of me, too, and, if they
thought there was a chance, they would be here in a jiffy; but what’s
the use? They even don’t know that I’ve been run off with, but
likely enough imagine that I have gone off on a hunt, and they won’t
look for me back under a week.”

All three prisoners were seated on the ground close together, the
Mohaves allowing them opportunity to converse without molestation,
although several scowled at Gaylor, as if unwilling to grant this
small boon.

“I see you are dressed as an Indian,” remarked Edwin, in an inquiring
voice to Gaylor, who smiled for a moment, and did not reply.
Finally, he looked down at his leggins and stained skin, as if their
appearance were a new thing to him.

“Well, I don’t see as there is any harm in telling you. This is the
style of dress we have all adopted. You see we’ve got particular
reasons for not wishing any white men to know we are here, and it was
my plan to get ourselves up in this rig, so that if anybody should
see us, they would think they was looking at Mohave Indians.”

Edwin forebore to ask the reason for all this, for it was
impertinent, but he concluded that Gaylor and his three companions
were criminals fleeing from justice.

“I shouldn’t tink such a rapscallion as you would want folks to
know dat you was white--don’t blame you fur paintin’ ob yourself,”
remarked Jim Tubbs, who was an attentive listener to the conversation.

“See here,” said Gaylor, fairly white with passion, “I’ve had enough
of you! I’d like to--I’d like to see these dogs burn you. _I hate
you!_”

“All right,” replied Jim, and was about uttering some more badinage,
when Edwin requested him to keep still.

Before the conversation could be resumed, the Mohave who was brought
so prominently into notice at the beginning of our narrative, walked
up to Jim and Edwin and motioned to them to stand up. They did so,
the boy still holding his gun. He then led them about a rod away,
halted, pointed to the northward, placed his left hand on the back of
Edwin, and gave him a gentle shove, and then did the same with Jim.

“Golly, dat means _trabbel_, an’ here’s de gemman what’s goin’ to
frow himself out all kinder loose like!” exclaimed the delighted
African, as he straightway began what may be termed “tall walking.”

“Hallo!” he exclaimed, abruptly halting after a few steps, “I forgot
to tank you. Much obliged. Good-bye.”

Edwin expressed his thanks as well as he could by pantomime and
hurried after his sable friend.

The Golden Rule! Golden, indeed, and the true measure by which to
mark our steps to Heaven. Here were two lives saved by the one
“little deed of kindness.”

They walked rapidly some distance, and then Edwin placed his slight
hand upon the colossal shoulder of the negro.

“Well, what be it?” demanded Jim, looking down in his pale face.

“I’m afraid they are going to kill Gaylor.”

“I hope so----”

“O, Jim, don’t talk that way.”

“I dunno as I hope so, but I don’t care; he’s an ugly darkey, an’
orter have de gold trick come ober him.”

“I don’t feel right in going off and leaving him this way, _and it
isn’t right_.”

“Well, what you goin’ do?” asked the African, betraying some
uneasiness.

“We must go back, and try and get them to let him off.”

“Dey won’t do dat.”

“How do you know they won’t?”

“I don’t tink so.”

“We can try.”

“I’ll wait here while you go.”

The boy ran back, and in a few moments reached the camp. Gaylor was
standing with his back toward him and did not notice his approach.
The Mohaves were all standing near him, and in their looks was great
evil. They all turned inquiringly toward Edwin, who walked rapidly
up to the prisoner, then dropped on his knees, made a supplicating
motion, and then, placing his arm within his, started off. A half
dozen Indians sprang forward to prevent it. He dropped on his knees
again, and, with tears in his eyes besought his release. He could
not be misunderstood, but his answer was scowls, and one who was
quite angry, drew his knife; but before he could do harm, our first
acquaintance sprang forward and, leading him quite forcibly a few
steps, pointed earnestly in the direction whence he came.

“You understand that,” said Gaylor, speaking for the first time,
“it’s no use; I’m much obliged to you for your good will, but these
dogs don’t like me, and you’re only fooling away your time to bother
with ’em.”

Edwin’s heart was overflowing, and, unable to speak, he broke into a
rapid run, and speedily reached the spot where the trembling Jim was
awaiting him.

“I couldn’t do anything, Jim,” he faltered.

“Sorry--’cause dey’ll be kind ob heavy on him.”

“Jim, you must go try them.”

“Oh! I can’t! I can’t!”

“But you must.”

“What’s de use?”

“That Indian that was in the cave thinks a great deal of you. Go and
plead with him.”

“But dat ’ere Gaylor said he hated me.”

“What if he did; if you can save his life, don’t you wish to do it?”

Jim was greatly agitated, and rubbed a tear from his eye.

“You’re right Ned; dar’s sumfin’ in me dat tells me I ought to do it,
an’ by de help ob God _I will_!”

“Be quick then, for there is no time to lose.”

The negro needed no urging, for he was prompted by the most powerful
of motives--Conscience, the “still small voice,” which, if listened
to, guides us all aright.

When he reached the camp, matters were about the same as Inwood had
left them.

“Mr. Gaylor,” said Jim, speaking abruptly, “I’ve come to see if I can
sabe you.”

The man turned around and looked at him silently for a moment, as if
unable to comprehend what he meant. Then he slowly shook his head
from side to side.

“No use; you’d better go back.”

“I’m goin’ to coax these fellers, an’ if dey won’t do it, we’ll pitch
in an’ fight.”

The Mohaves stood in a sort of irregular circle, their expression
forbidding enough. Jim walked straight up to his first acquaintance,
and, leading him to where Gaylor stood, pointed at him, and motioned
toward Inwood, whose great anxiety had brought him within sight
and hearing. The Indian shook his head, and looked around at his
companions in a manner that showed _he_ had no particular objections,
if they would give their consent.

Jim repeated his request, and he again swayed his head, but he was
solicited more vehemently than before, whereupon the savage withdrew,
and began an earnest conference with his friends. The consultation
was long, earnest and stormy--but the end was victory. The Indian was
a man of authority--Gaylor was loosed from his bonds, and he and Jim
walked away side by side, and, rejoining Edwin Inwood, all three took
their departure.

      “We do not make our thoughts; they grow in us,
      Like grain in wood; the growth is of the skies,
      Which are of nature; nature is of God.
      The world is full of glorious likenesses.”




CHAPTER XIII.


The three walked silently forward for a considerable distance, when
Gaylor paused, and, stepping in front, so as to face the two, he
spoke as a man speaks when in earnest.

“See here Jim and Ned, as I believe you call each other, I’ve got
a few words to say to you. I’m a pretty bad man, but when one does
me a kindness, I’m like an Indian, and don’t forget it. I want to
thank you Ned, again, for what you tried to do. This here darkey has
been the means of saving my life, when I’d given up. I spoke mean to
him awhile ago, I want to ask his pardon for that, and give him my
thanks.”

“Gorry, don’t say nuffin’ ’bout it,” said Jim, drawing his huge hand
across his eyes, “’tain’t worth spoken ’bout. It’s all right.”

“I’m glad to hear it. When you hear me speak again as I did of a
black man awhile ago, it will be when I hain’t got any senses left.
But see here, I’ve got something I’m going to do for you. You have
another man with you, haven’t you? One who is the leader.”

“Yes; my brother George.”

“Take me to him.”

“Hold on,” interrupted Jim, “I’d like to get dat gun ob mine. I know
where I left it up among de grass ’long de creek where dey lassoed
me.”

“Lead on then.”

The three deviated from their course, and soon afterward reached
the stream, where Jim had found his gold, and the Mohaves had found
him. A short search discovered his gun, and they started homeward.
The distance was considerable, and it was fully an hour before they
reached the wood, where George Inwood was overjoyed to see them.

A few minutes’ talk made everything plain to him.

“You see, George Gaylor ain’t the man to give a friend the go by,”
said that personage himself. “And I’ll prove to you that I mean what
I say. I s’pose you’re in these parts looking for _gold_?”

“That is what has drawn us hither,” replied George, with a smile.

“Have you found much?”

“Not a great deal; we have had middling good fortune.”

“I s’pose maybe now I hain’t got noffin’,” said Jim, as he drew his
two nuggets from his pocket, and displayed them to the wondering gaze
of his friends.

“You seem to be made of gold,” said George; “you know how you put
your hand in your pocket, and brought it out, when we bought our
horses; but where did you obtain it?”

“Maybe I was digging it out ob de sand when de Ingins slung dere
ropes ober my neck--maybe I didn’t got it dere.”

“Is there any more?”

“Don’t tink dere is.”

“Whether there is or not, don’t matter,” said Gaylor, “I’ll show you
more gold to-day than you ever seen before, and all that you will
ever care about seeing.”

All looked at him with a look which said they failed to take in his
meaning.

“Just come with me--you will see it is no humbug.”

And the whole party started toward the Enchanted Island, Gaylor
himself leading the way.

At first sight, George Inwood recognized Gaylor as the man whom
he had viewed through the telescope, and who had fired his gun at
their friends. He did not deem it best, however, to refer to these
circumstances, as he placed full faith in the honesty of the man’s
intentions.

Reaching the lake, he searched awhile along the shore for a canoe. He
had great difficulty in finding it, but succeeded at last, and then,
asking his friends to await his return, he paddled rapidly across
the lake, and, landing on the shore, entered the thick wood. He was
undoubtedly with his companions, and remained away a good while.
While they were watching for his return, Jim exclaimed in great
excitement:

“See dar! look at de island! I’s agwine to leabe when spooks comes
about.”

The island, which at first sight was lying along shore, could now
be seen slowly approaching the center of the lake, and at the same
moment, the form of Gaylor was distinguished, as he plied his pole.
This seemed to convince Jim that there was nothing supernatural about
it, and he consented to remain.

Reaching a point near the middle, the mass of shrubbery came to a
stand still, and Gaylor then put off in his canoe.

“Jump in,” said he, as it lightly touched the shingle, “it will hold
you all. I’ll show you something which you have never seen.”

They stepped carefully into the small canoe, and it sank to its
gunwales with the unusual weight. But Gaylor managed it skilfully,
and a few minutes later they all stepped upon the Enchanted Island.

“Now, let me tell you a little story,” said their friend. “Some
months ago a party of five of us came down through these parts
looking for gold. Reaching this lake we started across it in a boat,
and near the middle discovered several yellow nuggets lying on the
bottom. I dove down and brought them up, and found them to be gold.
We soon found there was any quantity lying around loose, and, of
course, we determined to get all we could. But while we had come
upon a fortune, there were several bad things in the way of bringing
it up. The country was full of Indians, and there were white men
wandering over the country. If any of them should get news of our
windfall, it would be all over with us. So, after thinking over it,
we hit upon a plan. We made a frame-work of logs, and then covered
it over with green sod, pebbles and trees, so as to make it look
just like an island. Then we sometimes kindled fires, so as to scare
any one who saw it. This we floated right over the spot where we
saw the gold, and began bringing it up. We had to dive for it after
we had managed to loosen a portion with our poles. We had so much
trouble in getting it, that one of our men started to San Francisco
for tools to answer our purpose. But we never heard of him again, and
we suppose the Mohaves got track of him. Howsumever, we worked away,
and the amount of it is, we have all made an independent fortune, and
there is enough left for you. We used to float this ashore at night,
as we had a good hiding place there. I have started my party north
to San Francisco, and I expect to join them in half an hour. No one
knows this secret but you. You can work here as long as you please.
You seem to have the good will of the Mohaves, but look out for white
men. Be very careful to let no one see you at work. Now, if you will
only take me ashore, I will leave you alone.”

George Inwood paddled their friend to land, where they bid farewell
to each other, and he returned to the Enchanted Island, and began
work.

Gaylor had not deceived him. They saw large quantities of gold
shining on the bottom of the lake. George observed that it lay
directly in the path of the canon, which has been referred to as
emptying into the lake. This made it seem as if it had been washed
down by the current, whose tremendous velocity was sufficient to
hurl boulders of a ton’s weight down its channel as if driven by a
columbiad.

It is not often that a fortune can be picked up from the bottom
of a lake, and, even when the inviting auriferous nuggets and the
glittering sand lay before their eyes, it was found no easy task to
bring it up to the surface. But what will man not do for gold? A
bountiful harvest awaited them, and they toiled and labored as they
never had done before.

Jim was the great machine for procuring the precious yellow
particles. Neither George nor Edwin could remain under water long
enough to secure much; but the African took to it as if he was
amphibious, and rather preferred it to the hard, dry earth, and pure
mountain air. His great rolling eyes, first located the rich mineral,
and, poising himself for an instant, down he went like an arrow
until he touched bottom, where he clawed around with a vigor and
persistency which were sure to show substantial results.

“When I gits down dar,” said Jim, as he sat on the edge of the
Enchanted Island resting himself, “I jes’ opens my eyes, an’ I can
see as well as you can. The water looks kinder yeller, but de gold
looks yellerer, an’ so I’m sure to see it.”

The negro always plunged in head first.

“Cause you see if I happen to strike de rocks, it’ll be my head, an’
den dar’s no danger ob gittin’ hurt.”

This was his philosophy.

Our friends had unmistakeably found a prize, and it only remained
for them to work it up. As Edwin was of comparatively little use, he
occasionally roamed in the woods in search of game. He was careful
not to stray far away, as there really was no necessity for doing so,
and even if he failed in obtaining his food in this manner, the lake
offered a good supply of fish, which were always at their disposal.

When the first night came, an inventory of their receipts was taken,
and George Inwood was sure that they were several thousand dollars
richer than at morning, and so expressed himself to his friends.

“Rather better earnings than we have yet made,” he remarked, with
some degree of complaisance, as the three sat in the cool of the
evening, chatting and discussing the matter.

“Yes, I think we ought to be satisfied with that,” replied Edwin.

“I isn’t,” was the sententious observation of Jim, as he quaffed his
black clay pipe.

“And why not?” inquired George.

“’Cause I ain’t, dat’s de reason. In de fust place, dat ain’t ’nough
gold, an’ in de next place, it’s too little, an’ den we orter git
more. Wait till I gits to work to-morrer, an’ I’ll show you sumfin.
Dar’s a sort ob gineral looseness dat I hab to git frough me, afore I
can do what I orter.”

“Well, I shall be satisfied if you only do as well as you have
to-day.”

“I must do better to-morrer, an’ I’s goin’ to.”

There was a fear--a continued apprehension, which made our friends
quite uneasy--that is, that some prowling band of hunters or miners
might discover their secret. If such a dreaded contingency should
occur it would make a fearful time. Unrestrained by any fear of the
law, and prompted by the great prompter of the majority of human
actions, such a company would hesitate at no crime to secure the
booty.

George Inwood’s experience had taught him the value of money in this
world’s affairs, and he was resolutely determined to resist to the
bitter end any encroachments upon their rights. There are some things
more valuable than gold, but they are few, and it cannot be wondered
that a man should feel some reluctance at parting with it.

Jim verified the boast that he made; for on the morrow he began work
so soon as it was bright, and toiled with scarcely any intermission
until nightfall, his net proceeds fully doubling those of the day
before. Inwood, by this time, had managed to arrange a contrivance
with the poles which materially assisted him. One of these being
sharp-pointed, he was enabled to wrench off goodly-sized nuggets,
while with another arrangement, he was able to grapple and bring
them to the surface. Still a third had a pan fastened to the end, by
means of which he scooped up a large mass of sand, all flecked with
gleaming points, and abounding with riches.

Edwin Inwood’s principal occupation, aside from attending to the
animals, was to wander through the surrounding woods on the lookout
for white men, who, as will be easily understood, were more dreaded
than anything else. On one occasion, he discovered a party of five
miners encamped within a mile. He instantly made all haste back, and
acquainted his friends with the startling fact.

Labor was suspended at once, the gold carefully concealed, and all
three set themselves on the watch. The miners were prospecting, and
were ignorant of the Enchanted Island and its history. They lingered
for several days in the vicinity, and then, to the great relief of
the Inwoods and Jim, they took their departure.

Week after week passed away, and still the little party toiled as
unceasingly as ever; but when a month had come and gone, they saw
that the supply was giving out. Still, as all of us would have done
under the circumstances, they kept to work as long as there was
anything like a reward to be obtained for their labor.

But the end finally came, and they stopped work, and took an account
of stock. As nearly as George Inwood could calculate, they were the
owners of something less than a hundred thousand dollars--all of it
in _gold coin_. They certainly had reason to be satisfied with this,
and all were, with the exception of Jim, who, of course, growled
about it, and proposed that they should hunt up some more “Enchanted
Islands” before going home; but then, had another proposed the same
thing, he would have vehemently opposed it.

All the gold they could conveniently carry was distributed about
their persons, and the rest was concealed among the saddles on the
backs of their animals. The old mule was not honored with a particle,
but carried the luggage and personal baggage.

All being ready the little party turned their faces toward San
Francisco, and on a bright summer morning started homeward.




CHAPTER XIV.


One hundred thousand dollars in gold in one sense is a comfortable
sum, and yet, in another, it is the very reverse. A man who finds
himself in possession of that amount, and attempts to carry it, will
find that it weighs several hundred pounds, and is rather awkward to
manage. If he tumbles a portion of the nuggets into his pantaloons
pockets, their excessive weight is almost sure to send them through
the bottom down into his boots, where they are certain to feel still
more uncomfortable. If he slings the auriferous luggage over his
shoulder, the burden is too great to be carried for any time; if the
money is placed upon the strong back of a mule, there is the haunting
terror of its being lost or stolen during some unguarded moment.

Perhaps the best thing that any of our readers can do with their
hundred thousand dollars, is to put it in a strong safe, or in a
good solvent bank, where it can be drawn out piecemeal and devoted
to charitable objects; but it will be seen at once that neither of
these plans were practicable for our friends while their cargo was
_in transitu_ for San Francisco, and when we say that they all felt
uneasy, we but feebly express their feelings.

“I tell you if it was know’d what a load we’s takin’ frough de
mountains, dere’d be some fo’ks dat would rather like to git
’quainted wid us,” remarked Jim, as they toiled laboriously through
the wild country.

“Yes; we may meet with strangers, and if so, we must be very careful
that they don’t suspect we have so much gold with us.”

“Yes; I’s been tinkin’ dat I orter caution you an’ Ned ’bout keepin’
a close mouf when strangers am ’bout.”

“You needn’t be afraid of me,” replied Edwin. “If any one reveals it,
I am sure it will be you.”

The third night after leaving the Enchanted Island, they encamped
in a rocky gorge, close by a small running stream, where immense
precipitous walls rose on either hand, and at mid-day a twilight
gloom rested upon the ground and stream. Fine, tender green grass was
growing in profusion; and, picketing the animals within ear-shot, the
gold was removed with the saddles, and placed close to the camp-fire,
where it could always be seen by every member of the party. They had
a fine plump bird shot during the latter part of the afternoon, which
Jim took in hand, and soon had sputtering and broiling over a small,
brisk fire--“doing” it with a skill which would have tempted the
appetite of the most fastidious epicure.

By the time this was disposed of, it was entirely dark, and the three
gathered more closely about the fire, for there was a chilliness in
the air which made its warmth pleasant and grateful. Jim found solace
in his inevitable pipe, while the brothers chatted as usual. George
lay with his head upon the saddles containing the gold, Edwin sat
near him, while Jim was upon the opposite side the fire, half sitting
and half reclining in his listlessness.

“Am dat a soft piller?” he asked of the older brother.

“I can’t say that it is,” was the reply, “but it would be pretty hard
work to sleep with my head on anything else, so long as I know we had
the gold with us.”

“I s’pose when folks have a big lot of gold they’re apt to think a
good deal about. I never yet hefted dat ’ere pile. Jes’ luf me heft
it.”

The African passed over to where the three saddles lay, and Inwood
removed his head, picked them up and held them suspended for a few
moments.

“I tell you gold am purty heavy----”

The next instant, the whole pile dropped from his hand, the nuggets
giving forth an unmistakeable chink, for there before all stood a
stranger, his appearance as sudden and unexpected as if he had risen
from the very earth!

There was several bad things regarding the advent of this man. In
the first place, he came at a moment when it was certain he had
discovered that a large quantity of gold was in the possession of the
little party. The words of the negro, and his sudden dropping of the
riches, made it impossible that it should be otherwise.

And again, the stranger had an evil look. He was in the costume
of a hunter, but his scowling features, keen eyes, low forehead,
flat nose, and cunning expression, were those of an outlaw from
society--one whom it was exceedingly perilous to encounter, where the
arm of the law was powerless to protect or to strike terror.

“Good evening, friends,” was the salutation, before the party had
time to recover from their surprise and indignation.

“Good evening,” returned Inwood, who could not be rude, even when
under such great provocation.

“Like to know what _you_ want?” demanded Jim, as he seated himself
upon the saddles, and defiantly looked at the new-comer.

“_Me?_” grinned the other, as he also seated himself as coolly as
if he were an invited guest, “I can’t say that I want anything in
particular. Happened to catch sight of your fire a little while ago,
and I came down to see who you might be. Rather like your appearance.”

“We’re a company journeying alone,” said George Inwood, “and, wishing
you good speed, you will let us say that we prefer to remain alone,
and therefore ask you to pass on.”

This was rather a palpable hint, but there seemed no disposition upon
the part of the stranger to act upon it. He sat still a few moments,
and then also produced a pipe, which he lit with an ember from the
fire.

“My name is Muffins,” said he, “and, as I told you a few minutes ago,
I’m a hunter in this neighborhood. It isn’t often that I see a white
man, and when I do, I must stick to him and enjoy his society all I
can. So, of course, I couldn’t think of leaving you just yet.”

It occurred to George Inwood that he had not only been discourteous,
but had overdone matters altogether in manifesting such a prompt
anxiety to get rid of Muffins, and he now attempted an impossible
thing, namely, to undo his mistake.

“Are you alone?” he inquired.

“Yes, sir; nobody goes with me. I live alone in these woods, except
when I meet a friend, as I have met you to-night; but I never stay
with them long, so you needn’t be anxious regarding me, ’cause I’ll
leave you as soon as it is daylight.”

This was intended to be reassuring, but it was anything but that,
and made Inwood more uneasy than ever. His great fear was that there
were others close at hand, and the darkness, gloom and solitude gave
opportunity for treachery. He did not see how he could rid himself of
his dangerous visitor; but Jim now spoke up:

“See here, Mr. Buffin, I wants to ax you a question.”

“I am at your service, sir.”

“Did you ’serbe me when I dropped dese saddles?”

“I noticed that you let something fall as I came up, but I didn’t
pay any attention. It was no concern of mine, you know.”

“You didn’t tink--dat is, you don’t tink dere be any gold about dat?”

“Course not; why should I think so?”

“All right, Mr. Buffer, I doesn’t want you to tink so--jes’ ’member
dat if you please.”

George Inwood was greatly irritated, but there was such an air of
simplicity about what Jim said, that it was impossible not to be
amused. When the African received the reply of Mr. Muffin, he seemed
satisfied, and seated himself upon the saddles.

George saw that their visitor understood the precise condition of
affairs, and there was no further use of attempting concealment.

“I s’pose you’re miners?” remarked Mr. Muffin, by way of initiating
the conversation.

“Yes; we have spent several months among the mountains, part the time
hunting and part the time mining.”

“What luck?”

“Quite good I may say; we have toiled long and hard, and have made
pretty good wages--so much, that we have concluded to return home.”

“Live in California?”

“No; our home is in the Empire State, where I hope we shall shortly
be.”

“Going to San Francisco?”

Inwood answered in the affirmative, and then concluded that it was
about time he asked a few questions.

“Where are your friends?”

But Mr. Muffin was too sharp to be taken off his guard, and, with a
meaning smile upon his evil countenance, he said:

“The nearest I’ve got, I believe, are a couple of brothers in
Sacramento City.”

“You hunt alone, do you?”

“I have done so for nigh onto five years--not quite that, howsumever.”

“That is a singular way of managing one’s affairs. A man isn’t apt
to act in that manner unless he has a strong motive for doing so.”

“What might be a chap’s motives?” demanded the other, removing his
pipe and glaring upon the speaker with an ugly look.

“Sometimes a man has a natural taste for solitude, but it more
generally happens that he leaves society for society’s own good.”

“Do you mean to ’sinuate that that’s what I’ve done?”

“I don’t insinuate anything, because I know nothing about you; but I
strongly suspect that you are some scamp who dare not return to the
society of your people on account of the crimes you have committed
against them.”

Mr. Muffin looked very angry, and Jim had strong hopes that he would
say or attempt something bad, for he was eager to lay his hands upon
him; but their visitor evidently concluded it unsafe to let his angry
passions rise just then, and so he held his peace, and smoked his
pipe harder than ever.

“When a man addresses me as I have addressed you,” said Inwood, “I
quietly leave his company, and have nothing more to do with him.”

“Dat so,” added Jim, beginning to lose all patience at the impudence
of their visitor. “If you know what’s best for yourself you’ll _cl’ar
out_.”

Mr. Muffin smoked in silence a few moments longer, and then rose to
his feet. Glaring first at Inwood, and then at Jim, he shook his fist
at each, and said:

“I’ll go, but you’ll hear from me before long. _You haven’t seen the
last of me._”

And the next moment he strode off in the darkness.

The miners waited until they were sure of being alone, when George
said:

“I am sorry we saw anything of that man--he has had his eyes on our
gold, and has made up his mind to have it.”

“Yes; I’m sorry you told him about it,” gravely remarked Jim.

“I think _you_ were the first to give him the hint.”

“How dat?” inquired the African, with profound amazement.

“He saw you drop the saddles, and heard you speak about them
containing gold.”

“I know dat, but he told me he didn’t tink dere war any gold here,
while you tole him dat we had had purty good luck, an’ had got
’siderable.”

“However, there is no need of disputing about it, Jim; he has made up
his mind to rob us of that gold, if he has to cut our throats to do
it, and the question with us is, how are we to prevent it.”

“The camp-fire has burned down pretty low,” said Inwood, “let’s pick
up our traps and change our quarters.”

“No doubt he is watching us.”

“What if he is? It is so dark that we can give him the slip.”

The suggestion of the boy’s seemed to be the best under the
circumstances, and the two concluded to act upon it at once. Jim
quietly stole down the bank of the stream, slipped the lariat pegs
by which the animals were held, and then led them about a half
mile down the rocky bed of the brook, several times stumbling and
bruising himself. Finally he reached a spot which _felt right_, where
he tethered them, and returned to the brothers, who were rather
impatiently awaiting him.

“I’s found a place,” said he, “you needn’t tumble down more nor a
dozen times in gitten’ dere.”

The gold was burdensome, but they distributed it among themselves,
the African taking about nine-tenths, and George very nearly all that
remained. They then began picking their way down the stream, being
guided almost entirely by the sense of touch. The negro’s remarkable
memory of places was found to assist them a great deal. George kept
so close to him that he could touch him at any moment with his
outstretched arms, while Edwin did touch his brother continually to
make sure that he was not losing him. They stumbled quite often,
and bruised themselves considerably, but not enough to affect their
progress to any degree, and at the end of something over an hour, Jim
suddenly came to a stand still, with the whispered exclamation:

“_Here we is!_”

The brothers strained their eyes, but in vain; for the darkness was
too great for them to perceive anything. The faint neigh of a horse,
however, told them that Jim was not mistaken.

“Here we stays till mornin’,” said the latter, “an’ if Mr. Buffalo
finds us, he’ll have to have purty sharp eyes.”

“I think we are safe, unless we have been followed. Be careful and
speak in low tones, and say only the words that are necessary. Have
you got your blankets and everything with you?”

Edwin replied in the affirmative, but the negro burst into a low,
hearty laugh.

“What do you s’pose I’ve done?” he asked.

Of course neither could answer his question.

“I’ve gone an’ left my gun up dere by de camp-fire.”

“Never mind, let it go,” said George, “we cannot be a great ways from
home, and we can get along without it.”

“No, _sah_; can’t do widout dat; s’pose Mr. Bufton brings down a
party ob men to-morrer mornin’, where’ll you be den?”

There was reason in this question, and George added:

“We may need it, but you run a great risk in going back. They may be
there, and you must take great care that you are not seen.”

“Yah, yah, won’t see much ob me--dark a colored man as I am, on such
a dark night, ain’t apt to be generally visible, an’ what dey can see
ob me, dey’re welcome to see.”

But Jim promised extra caution, and started on the back track. The
trouble was that he was in a great hurry; for, by this time, the
night was well advanced, and he was desirous of securing his usual
allowance of sleep. It was not such a difficult matter for him to
make his way, as he had become pretty well acquainted with the
ground, and the rippling brook was an infallible guide, if he were
dubious for a single moment.

It seemed a long time before he came upon the dull embers of the
fire, which were smouldering so low as to be hardly visible at any
distance; but fortunately, Jim discovered it while several rods
distant.

At this instant, he recalled that he had promised his young friend
to be careful, and he therefore hesitated and took a survey as well
as he could under the circumstances. Nothing was seen to arouse
suspicion, and he was about to advance, when the embers assumed a
glow so sudden and bright as to startle and alarm him.

Stepping back, he watched it intently, and, a moment later, saw a
shadowy form pass in front of it, and then two others, although
neither of them was heard to speak a word.

“So you’re dere, be you?” muttered Jim, as he sank down to the earth
to watch his opportunity; “but you don’t find us, an’ don’t see
noffin’ ob de gold.”

Prudence would have dictated to the negro to withdraw from the
presence of such danger; but he placed too great a value upon his
rifle to allow it to leave his hands in this unquestioned manner.
He remembered while they were busy making their preparations, that
he had laid it down to one side; where, as yet, Mr. Muffin and his
friends had seen nothing of it.

Jim was several yards from the brook, where he could hear any words
spoken. By-and-bye one of the men seemed to become very impatient,
and, with a profane expletive, said:

“What’s the use? They’ve given you the slip, and we might as well go
back again.”

“Where’ve they gone?” asked another.

“A pretty question to ask! I s’pose you think we can see ’em a dozen
miles off on such a bright moonlight night as this.”

This remark was greeted with derisive laughter by the others, and
the one propounding the question, no doubt was greatly discomfited
thereby. But, at this point, Jim began to grow apprehensive about his
rifle and commenced crawling toward the spot where he had left it
upon the ground.

The African’s complexion was greatly in his favor, and united with
the extreme darkness of the night, secured his safety so long as
he kept out of the light of the fire. Unfortunately this had been
rekindled by one of the strangers, so that the attempt was attended
with considerable risk.

Still Jim crept stealthily forward, and was already groping over the
ground in search of his weapon, when it was suddenly snatched from
the earth, and a voice called out:

“Helloa! here’s a gun anyhow. They left in such a hurry that they
forgot to take that with ’em, and I guess----”

The speaker was suddenly prostrated by a powerful blow, and the
weapon violently wrenched from his grasp.

“Quick! there’s one of ’em!” was the lusty cry of the man, as he
staggered to his feet. The others were bewildered by the unexpected
assault, but they attempted a pursuit, rushing off blindly in the
darkness in a direction almost opposite the right one.

“Yaw! yaw!” chuckled Jim, as he stumbled and hurried down the bed of
the stream. “Won’t have to run fur to git away from the likes ob you.”

A half hour later, the anxious brothers were relieved by the
appearance of Jim among them, when he gleefully recounted his
adventure, quite jubilant at his success.

“Won’t they follow you?” inquired Edwin.

“Dey undertook dat, but dey went de wrong way.”

“But they may now go the right one.”

“How dey know dat?”

“We are not sure that they have any suspicion of the truth,” said
George, “but they would naturally suspect that they had followed the
course of the brook.”

“Let ’em foller,” was the reply of the African, “an’ if dey do so,
dey might tumble ober us widout seeing us.”

“Do you know how many there are?”

“Seed tree ob ’em, an’ I tink dey was more around.”

“I don’t fear that so much, as that they may encamp near us, and make
an attack in the morning.”

“We must move off as soon as it is daylight,” said Edwin, “and get
all the start we can before they discover us.”

Edwin and Jim finally lay down in their blankets and went to sleep,
while George maintained watch. He was too nervous and troubled to
feel any desire for slumber, and too anxious to get out of this
dangerous neighborhood to allow any advantage to escape him.

More than once, through the lonely hours of the night he was sure he
heard whisperings and footsteps, and as often he raised the hammer of
his rifle, and endeavored to pierce the Cimmerian gloom. The faint
neigh of one of the animals sent a thrill of apprehension through
him, and he was certain the outlaws were among them, but nothing
further was heard, and, at the first streak of light, he aroused his
friends, and told them they must start at once.

Their preparations required but a few moments, when they resumed
their march. They found that the face of the country materially
changed as they advanced, and they made much more rapid progress than
they had dared to hope.

They were constantly looking back, and once Jim’s keen eyes were
positive that he detected a number of men on a distant eminence,
evidently watching them; but nothing more was seen of their enemies,
and when they encamped at night, they were confident that none but
the All-seeing Eye observed them.




CHAPTER XV.


It was toward the close of a warm summer day, that our friends drew
rein in a grove within sight of the residence of Mr. Underwood, in
precisely the same spot that they had encamped a number of weeks
before.

George Inwood was rather shabby in his appearance, but he determined
to call upon Marian, and have a chat with her before he returned
East. He washed himself in a running brook, combed out his hair
and whiskers, brushed his clothes, and, having made himself as
presentable as possible under the circumstances, he told his friends
that perhaps he would not return until late in the evening, and that
they were by no means to wait for him.

There was a faint moon, as he came up the path made by the passage of
many animals, and he could discover no human beings near the house.
He missed the voice of Marian, but he knew she was there, and that in
a few moments more he would be sitting face to face with her.

Walking forward, he stepped upon the long, low porch which ran along
the entire front of the house, and, seeing no bell near, or knocker
upon the open door, he rapped it smartly with his knuckles, and then
stepped back and endeavored to feel cool and unconcerned.

In a moment a servant appeared, and he said:

“Is Miss Underwood in?”

“_¿Pregunta V. par alguno?_”

Not understanding Spanish, Inwood stood for a moment embarrassed and
silent.

“_¿Acerca de quien quiere V. informarse? A quien bresca V.?_” said
the female, quite excitedly.

Seeing little probability of coming to an understanding, Inwood
repeated the words “Miss Marian Underwood,” and then walked into a
low broad hall. The servant immediately opened a door on his right,
and the young man walked into a broad, well-furnished room. Taking
his seat on a sofa, which he knew had been brought from the East, he
awaited the coming of whomsoever chose to answer his summons.

He had waited scarcely a minute, when a light step caught his ear,
and, looking up, Marian stood before him. He saw at once she did not
recognize him in the dim light, and he concluded not to undeceive her
for a moment. Rising, and bowing profoundly, he lowered his voice and
asked:

“Have I the honor to address Miss Marian Underwood?”

“Yes, sir,” was the reply, as she still remained standing.

“I am from the East; Mr. Inwood desires you to receive his kindest
wishes.”

“Ah! you are acquainted with him?” she said, with great vivacity,
exceedingly inspiring to the listener, as she seated herself in front
of him. “When did you leave New York?”

“Several months ago; I am on my return now.”

“Is he well?”

“Never better.”

“I am glad to hear it, indeed, as father will be.”

“His father died last autumn--Inwood was compelled to leave college,
as he found himself penniless.”

“Is it possible? May I ask what he is doing now?”

“Nothing at all.”

“I wondered that he never wrote to us.”

“I remember very well seeing him put a letter in the office,
addressed to you.”

“Indeed, I never received it; he must have thought it strange that I
never answered it.”

“However, he went to California.”

She gave a start.

“And never inquired after us?”

“Yes; he sought your home out with great difficulty, and, Miss Marian
Underwood, he sits talking with you this minute.”

There was a start, and a slight scream, but no fainting. Sensible
ladies don’t faint at such times. The light of the lamp was made
instantly brighter, and Marian, all trembling and excitement, was
seated beside George, looking earnestly in his face.

“Can it be possible?” she asked, half smiling and half weeping, “I am
really glad to see you.”

“And I am to see you.”

But it is becoming delicate ground, and we will retire.

Our friends remained several days at Mr. Underwood’s, during which,
Jim explained that his famous “gold trick” consisted in looking
upon an opponent as a _gold mine_, and using his pick accordingly,
and George, having received the strongest confirmation of the true,
womanly love of Marian for himself, he revealed to her the wonderful
success which he had met among the mountains, with the Enchanted
Island, and he assured her of his intention to complete his
preparatory course, and enter his chosen field--the sacred ministry.

When they parted, they were betrothed, and their future was painted
in the roseate colors of hope and youth.

A few days later, as the steamer El Dorado steamed through the Golden
Gate, down the great Pacific, she carried among her motley passengers
the three who have occupied so prominent a part in these pages. The
trip to New York was made safely and pleasantly, and without any
incident worthy of record.

Edwin, as a matter of course, resumed his studies, and Jim Tubbs
settled down with his old mother, whom he had left behind, and who
had sustained herself during his absence by weak tea, a strong pipe,
and tremendous washing and ironing.

George carried out his intentions in every respect; the debts due his
creditors, with interest, were paid to the last cent; and he and his
wife are located in the Pacific Slope in the noble young State of
California, engaged heart and hand in their great Master’s work.


THE END.




DIME POCKET NOVELS.

PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, AT TEN CENTS EACH.


    =1=--=Hawkeye Harry.= By Oll Coomes.
    =2=--=Dead Shot.= By Albert W. Aiken.
    =3=--=The Boy Miners.= By Edward S. Ellis.
    =4=--=Blue Dick.= By Capt. Mayne Reid.
    =5=--=Nat Wolfe.= By Mrs. M. V. Victor.
    =6=--=The White Tracker.= Edward S. Ellis.
    =7=--=The Outlaw’s Wife.= Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
    =8=--=The Tall Trapper.= By Albert W. Aiken.
    =9=--=Lightning Jo.= By Capt. Adams.
   =10=--=The Island Pirate.= By Capt. Mayne Reid.
   =11=--=The Boy Ranger.= By Oll Coomes.
   =12=--=Bess, the Trapper.= By E. S. Ellis.
   =13=--=The French Spy.= By W. J. Hamilton.
   =14=--=Long Shot.= By Capt. Comstock.
   =15=--=The Gunmaker.= By James L. Bowen.
   =16=--=Red Hand.= By A. G. Piper.
   =17=--=Ben, the Trapper.= By Lewis W. Carson.
   =18=--=Wild Haven.= By Oll Coomes.
   =19=--=The Specter Chief.= By Seelin Robins.
   =20=--=The B’ar-Killer.= By Capt. Comstock.
   =21=--=Wild Nat.= By Wm. R. Eyster.
   =22=--=Indian Jo.= By Lewis W. Carson.
   =23=--=Old Kent, the Ranger.= Edward S. Ellis.
   =24=--=The One-Eyed Trapper.= Capt. Comstock.
   =25=--=Godbold, the Spy.= By N. C. Iron.
   =26=--=The Black Ship.= By John S. Warner.
   =27=--=Single Eye.= By Warren St. John.
   =28=--=Indian Jim.= By Edward S. Ellis.
   =29=--=The Scout.= By Warren St. John.
   =30=--=Eagle Eye.= By W. J. Hamilton.
   =31=--=The Mystic Canoe.= By Edward S. Ellis.
   =32=--=The Golden Harpoon.= By R. Starbuck.
   =33=--=The Scalp King.= By Lieut. Ned Hunter.
   =34=--=Old Lute.= By E. W. Archer.
   =35=--=Rainbolt Ranger.= By Oll Coomes.
   =36=--=The Boy Pioneer.= By Edward S. Ellis.
   =37=--=Carson, the Guide.= By J. H. Randolph.
   =38=--=The Heart Eater.= By Harry Hazard.
   =39=--=Wetzel, the Scout.= By Boynton Belknap.
   =40=--=The Huge Hunter.= By Ed. S. Ellis.
   =41=--=Wild Nat, the Trapper.= Paul Prescott.
   =42=--=Lynx-cap.= By Paul Bibbs.
   =43=--=The White Outlaw.= By Harry Hazard.
   =44=--=The Dog Trailer.= By Frederick Dewey.
   =45=--=The Elk King.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
   =46=--=Adrian, the Pilot.= By Col. P. Ingraham.
   =47=--=The Man-hunter.= By Maro O. Rolfe.
   =48=--=The Phantom Tracker.= By F. Dewey.
   =49=--=Moccasin Bill.= By Paul Bibbs.
   =50=--=The Wolf Queen.= By Charles Howard.
   =51=--=Tom Hawk, the Trailer.=
   =52=--=The Mad Chief.= By Chas. Howard.
   =53=--=The Black Wolf.= By Edwin E. Ewing.
   =54=--=Arkansas Jack.= By Harry Hazard.
   =55=--=Blackbeard.= By Paul Bibbs.
   =56=--=The River Rifles.= By Billex Muller.
   =57=--=Hunter Ham.= By J. Edgar Biff.
   =58=--=Cloudwood.= By J. M. Merrill.
   =59=--=The Texas Hawks.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
   =60=--=Merciless Mat.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
   =61=--=Mad Anthony’s Scouts.= By E. Rodman.
   =62=--=The Luckless Trapper.= Wm. R. Eyster.
   =63=--=The Florida Scout.= Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
   =64=--=The Inland Trapper.= Chas. Howard.
   =65=--=Wolf-Cap.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
   =66=--=Rattling Dick.= By Harry Hazard.
   =67=--=Sharp-Eye.= By Major Max Martine.
   =68=--=Iron-Hand.= By Frederick Forest.
   =69=--=The Yellow Hunter.= By Chas. Howard.
   =70=--=The Phantom Rider.= By Maro O. Rolfe.
   =71=--=Delaware Tom.= By Harry Hazard.
   =72=--=Silver Rifle.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
   =73=--=The Skeleton Scout.= Maj. L. W. Carson.
   =74=--=Little Rifle.= By Capt. “Bruin” Adams.
   =75=--=The Wood Witch.= By Edwin Emerson.
   =76=--=Old Ruff, the Trapper.= “Bruin” Adams.
   =77=--=The Scarlet Shoulder.= Harry Hazard.
   =78=--=The Border Rifleman.= L. W. Carson.
   =79=--=Outlaw Jack.= By Harry Hazard.
   =80=--=Tiger-Tail, the Seminole.= R. Ringwood.
   =81=--=Death-Dealer.= By Arthur L. Meserve.
   =82=--=Kenton, the Ranger.= By Chas. Howard.
   =83=--=The Specter Horseman.= Frank Dewey.
   =84=--=The Three Trappers.= Seelin Robbins.
   =85=--=Kaleolah.= By T. Benton Shields, U. S. N.
   =86=--=The Hunter Hercules.= Harry St. George.
   =87=--=Phil Hunter.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
   =88=--=The Indian Scout.= By Harry Hazard.
   =89=--=The Girl Avenger.= By Chas. Howard.
   =90=--=The Red Hermitess.= By Paul Bibbs.
   =91=--=Star-Face, the Slayer.=
   =92=--=The Antelope Boy.= By Geo. L. Aiken.
   =93=--=The Phantom Hunter.= By E. Emerson.
   =94=--=Tom Pintle, the Pilot.= By M. Klapp.
   =95=--=The Red Wizard.= By Ned Hunter.
   =96=--=The Rival Trappers.= By L. W. Carson.
   =97=--=The Squaw Spy.= By Capt. Chas. Howard.
   =98=--=Dusky Dick.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
   =99=--=Colonel Crockett.= By Chas. E. Lasalle.
  =100=--=Old Bear Paw.= By Major Max Martine.
  =101=--=Redlaw.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =102=--=Wild Rube.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =103=--=The Indian Hunters.= By J. L. Bowen.
  =104=--=Scarred Eagle.= By Andrew Dearborn.
  =105=--=Nick Doyle.= By P. Hamilton Myers.
  =106=--=The Indian Spy.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =107=--=Job Dean.= By Ingoldsby North.
  =108=--=The Wood King.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =109=--=The Scalped Hunter.= By Harry Hazard.
  =110=--=Nick, the Scout.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =111=--=The Texas Tiger.= By Edward Willett.
  =112=--=The Crossed Knives.= By Hamilton.
  =113=--=Tiger-Heart, the Tracker.= By Howard.
  =114=--=The Masked Avenger.= By Ingraham.
  =115=--=The Pearl Pirates.= By Starbuck.
  =116=--=Black Panther.= By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.
  =117=--=Abdiel, the Avenger.= By Ed. Willett.
  =118=--=Cato, the Creeper.= By Fred. Dewey.
  =119=--=Two-Handed Mat.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =120=--=Mad Trail Hunter.= By Harry Hazard.
  =121=--=Black Dick.= By Frederick Whittaker.
  =122=--=Kit Bird.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =123=--=The Specter Riders.= By Geo. Gleason.
  =124=--=Giant Pete.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =125=--=The Girl Captain.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =126=--=Yankee Eph.= By J. R. Worcester.
  =127=--=Silverspur.= By Edward Willett.
  =128=--=Squatter Dick.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =129=--=The Child Spy.= By George Gleason.
  =130=--=Mink Coat.= By Jos. E. Badger.
  =131=--=Red Plume.= By J. Stanley Henderson.
  =132=--=Clyde, the Trailer.= By Maro O. Rolfe.
  =133=--=The Lost Cache.= J. Stanley Henderson.
  =134=--=The Cannibal Chief.= Paul J. Prescott.
  =135=--=Karaibo.= By J. Stanley Henderson.
  =136=--=Scarlet Moccasin.= By Paul Bibbs.
  =137=--=Kidnapped.= By J. Stanley Henderson.
  =138=--=Maid of the Mountain.= By Hamilton.
  =139=--=The Scioto Scouts.= By Ed. Willett.
  =140=--=The Border Renegade.= By Badger.
  =141=--=The Mute Chief.= By C. D. Clark.
  =142=--=Boone, the Hunter.= By Whittaker.
  =143=--=Mountain Kate.= By Jos. E. Badger Jr.
  =144=--=The Red Scalper.= By W. J. Hamilton.
  =145=--=The Lone Chief.= By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
  =146=--=The Silver Bugle.= Lieut. Col. Hazleton.
  =147=--=Chinga, the Cheyenne.= By Edward S. Ellis. Ready
  =148=--=The Tangled Trail.= By Major Max Martine. Ready
  =149=--=The Unseen Hand.= By J. Stanley Henderson. Ready
  =150=--=The Lone Indian.= By Capt. Chas. Howard. Ready
  =151=--=The Branded Brave.= By Paul Bibbs. Ready
  =152=--=Billy Bowlegs, the Seminole Chief.= Ready April 20th.
  =153=--=The Valley Scout.= By Seelin Robins. Ready May 4.
  =154=--=Red Jacket, the Huron.= By Paul Bibbs. Ready May 18th.


BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.




  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

  The Table of Contents has been created by the transcriber.

  The original spelling of “reconnoisance” has been retained wherever
  it occurs in the text.

  Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
  corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the
  text and consultation of external sources.

  On page 12, “eparture” has been changed to “departure”: “stay his
  forcible departure”

  On page 16, “skillfu” has been changed to “skillful”: “as does the
  skillful dentist” and “his his” has been changed to “his”: “a few
  moments to explain his scheme”

  On page 27, “Marion” has been changed to “Marian” for consistency:
  “get a glimpse or peep at Marian”

  On page 28, “be” has been changed to “he”: “‘Dar!’ he said, as he
  flung it”

  On page 42, “boquet” has been changed to “bouquet”: “it had the
  appearance of a bouquet”

  On page 55, “despite, his ungainly manner of traveling” has been
  changed to “despite his ungainly manner of traveling”

  On page 59, “unwieldly” has been changed to “unwieldy”: “plied the
  unwieldy craft”

  On page 60, “some” has been changed to “same”: “with the same resolve
  as at first”

  On page 63, “childrens’” has been changed to “children’s”: “daubed up
  like a lot of children’s toys”

  On page 66, “beseiged” has been changed to “besieged”: “who had
  besieged them in the cave”

  On page 75, “tatooed” has been changed to “tattooed”: “her chin all
  tattooed with India ink” and “their” has been changed to “there”:
  “there ain’t a more villainous set of dogs”

  On page 77, “bandinage” has been changed to “badinage”: “was about
  uttering some more badinage”

  On page 79, “promted” has been changed to “prompted”: “for he was
  prompted by the most powerful”

  On page 99, the original text represented here by the word “office”
  is obscured: “seeing him put a letter in the office, addressed to
  you” and “thought strange” has been changed to “thought it strange”:
  “he must have thought it strange”