The Cave of Gold A Tale of California in '49 9 – McNeil · Verses Across
Literature · Western
The Cave of Gold A Tale of California in '49 9Accused of Murder
18
Literature · Western
The Cave of Gold A Tale of California in '49 9
Accused of Murder
McNeilEnglish
There were no laggards in the camp on the west side of the Sacramento River the next morning. Long before sun-up a line of wagons and animals and men stood waiting at the ferry, ready to be carried across the river; and among the first of these were our anxious young friends, Thure and Bud. They had pushed on ahead of their fellow travelers of the day before, the little company of Oregon gold-seekers, who had been delayed in getting into the line on account of their wagons, and were fortunate enough to get near the ferry; and, just as the first rays of the morning's sun looked down on the novel and interesting scene, they led their animals on board the ferry-boat.
The boat was jammed with men and wagons and horses and mules and oxen. The men were all talking excitedly of the mines, the animals were frightened and restless--indeed, all living beings seemed to breathe in excitement and restlessness and anxiety out of the very air, with every breath they drew into their bodies.
"Glory be!" commented Bud, as his eyes looked over the motley gathering of men that crowded every available spot on the boat, "but this is a queer-looking lot of men to see in the wilds of California! Looks like every nation in the world was represented right here in this one boat load and sounds like the confusion of tongues at the tower of Babel. There sure has got to be a lot of gold, if everybody gets a share!" and his face clouded. "Say, but this boat is slow!" and he turned his impatient eyes toward the shore, where, in the garish light of day, the city of canvas seemed real enough, but not a whit less wonderful, only in an entirely different way, than had the magic city of light the night before.
A forest of masts grew from a multitude of boats strung along the river front, and stood out in striking contrast against the leaved branches of the trees on the shore. The boats were moored to strong trunks and huge sinewy roots; and the larger number of them turned out "to grass," that is, leased as shops and dwelling houses. Signboards and figure-heads from the boats were set up along the shore, facing the levee; and back of them, up the gentle slopes of the hills lying between the Sacramento and the American Rivers, for the town was built at the junction of these two rivers, ran the streets of this novel city, lined with their odd-looking canvas houses and tents. Great forest-trees, some of them six feet in diameter, towered here and there above the houses and the streets, their huge column-like trunks and outspreading boughs, clothed with green leaves, adding the needed touch of romanticism to complete the unique picturesqueness of the scene. Everywhere was bustle and excitement. Men were hurrying in and out of the doors of the shops and of the saloons and up and down the streets. Drivers were shouting and cursing at their horses, mules, or oxen; whips were cracking; and wheels were rumbling and creaking. Parties of miners here and there, with loud shouts of farewell, were starting off for the mines, loaded down with pickaxes and shovels, with gold-pans and frying-pans, and other equipments of the rude camp-life they were preparing to live. Sun-up, everybody up, seemed to be the motto of all Sacramento City.
Into the midst of this wild hurly-burly Thure and Bud plunged directly from the ferry-boat. At first they hardly knew what to do with themselves and horses. Never had they been in a scene of such excitement and confusion before. It fairly made their heads whirl; but, boy-like, they enjoyed every bit of it, as, with their keen young eyes glancing in every direction, they rode, holding their frightened pack-horses close to their sides, slowly up what seemed to be the main street of the city.
"Say," and Bud pointed to a large sign on the front of one of the few frame buildings, which read "City Hotel," "that looks like a place to eat. Let's tie our horses outside and go in and get our breakfast. I'm as hungry as a bear; and--and--well we can talk over what we had better do next while we are eating. Glory be, I did not suppose Sacramento City was like this!" and he grinned.
The boys had been in too much of a hurry to get across the river to stop to prepare their own breakfast that morning, consequently Thure at once welcomed Bud's suggestion; and, jumping off their horses, the two lads tied their animals to near-by trees and walked into the City Hotel, bravely trying to look and act as if they were accustomed to living at hotels all their lives, although, to tell the truth, neither boy had even seen a hotel before for ten years.
They found the dining-room and seats at one of the tables without much difficulty; and after some little study of the bill-of-fare, during which they forgot to look at the prices, they gave their order to the waiter--God save the mark! no, to the steward; for there the word "waiter," was never used, it not being considered a sufficiently respectable calling for a man who a few months before might have been a lawyer, a doctor, a merchant, or even a minister. The food was soon set before them; and, as they ate, they talked over the situation.
"The first thing for us to do," declared Thure, "is to find some miners bound for Hangtown, and then make arrangements to go with them; and the only way to do this is to start out and ask everyone who looks as if he was going to the diggings, if he is going to Hangtown, or knows of anyone who is. I reckon it won't take us long to find someone; and, if possible, we want to get on our way to-day."
Bud promptly sanctioned this plan; and, accordingly, it was agreed that, as soon as they finished their breakfast, they would start out to find someone bound for Hangtown.
"I'll pay the bill," magnanimously announced Thure, when the last morsel of food and the last swallow of coffee had vanished down their throats, and he turned to the smiling steward.
The steward wrote for a minute or so on a little pad of paper; and then, tearing off a sheet, handed it to Thure. It was the bill for their breakfast and read:
4 fried eggs $6.00
1 leg of mutton (with potatoes) 2.25
1 leg of veal (with potatoes) 2.25
2 cups of coffee (with milk) 1.50
Bread (with butter) for two 2.00
2 pieces of pie 1.50
------
Total $15.50
"Great Moses!" and Thure stared in the utmost astonishment at the piece of paper he held in his hand, "does this mean that we are to pay Fifteen Dollars and a Half for what we have just eaten?"
"Yes," smiled the steward, who had evidently been a lawyer before he became a steward, "fifteen dollars and fifty cents is all. Eggs and butter came down a little to-day; and we always give our patrons the benefit of a fall in prices at once. You will see that your bill is correct by glancing at the prices on the bill-of-fare."
Thure transferred his stare, for a moment, to the face of the smiling steward; and then, picking up the bill-of-fare, he saw that the prices were correct, and paid the bill.
"I see that you have already found your goldmine," he remarked, as he handed the cashier the money.
"And without digging in mud and gravel for the gold," the cashier replied, with a grin and a wink. "But, there is not as much gold in it as you might think. Now, how much do you suppose those eggs cost me a dozen?" and he pointed to the egg item on the bill-of-fare.
"Never sold any," smiled back Thure. "We always gave them away."
"Huh! I'll take a car load at that price. Now, them identical eggs that you ate this morning cost me at the rate of Thirteen Dollars and Seventy-five cents a dozen, wholesale! I reckon you are new to the diggings, or you would know that prices on everything have gone soaring up like skyrockets," and the cashier, who happened also to be the proprietor, threw up both hands despairingly toward the ceiling. "Say, what do you suppose I have to pay the fellow who washes the dishes? Seventy-five Dollars a week and keep! And the cook, Mother of men! he gets One Hundred and Eighty-five Dollars a week! Got to pay it, or they'll go to the diggings."
"Excuse me," broke in Bud, who at this moment suddenly thought that no one would be apt to know more about the goings and the comings of the miners, than the hotelkeeper, himself. "But, do you happen to know of any miners in town who are going to Hangtown? We expect to find our dads there; and want to get away from here as soon as we can."
"Now," and the broad forehead wrinkled, "let me think. Sure!" and the wrinkles vanished. "Yankee Tom and his company were to start for Hangtown this morning; and, I reckon, if you hustle, you can yet get to them before they start. You see--"
"Where'll we find them?" broke in Thure eagerly. He was too anxious to be off to care to listen longer to the talkative landlord.
"See that big sycamore over yonder?" and the landlord pointed through the open door to where a giant tree lifted its head far above its surroundings.
"Yes."
"Well, Yankee Tom's camp is under that tree. Just head for that tree, and you will sure hit his camp, if he is still there; but you'd better hustle," and the landlord turned to attend to other guests.
Thure and Bud at once hurried out to where they had left their horses; and were soon mounted and hastening toward the big tree. Their route, for a short distance, lay through a very busy street, with shops of all kinds and innumerable gambling--and drinking-hells on both sides. Great crowds of men were hurrying in and out of these places; and the street was so jammed with wagons and horses and mules and oxen and men that Thure and Bud found considerable difficulty in making their way through it.
"No more hotel eating for me," declared Thure, with a grimace, as they made their way as speedily as possible through this crowded street. "A Dollar and a Half for an Egg! But won't mother's eyes open when she hears that?"
"Well, eggs are not the only things that are high. Just look at that sign there," and Bud pointed to a large sign in front of one of the stores, on which the storekeeper had recorded the day's bargains. The sign read:
THE BEST AND THE CHEAPEST PLACE
TO BUY YOUR OUTFITS A FEW OF TO-DAY'S SPECIAL BARGAINS THAT CANT BE BEAT ANYWHERE IN THE CITY
Best flour ten pounds for only $15.00
Rice, five pounds for only 5.00
Potatoes, a heaped-up bushel, only 35.00
Good butter only 2.00 per pound
Barley only 1.00 per quart
Best white beans only 6.50
Candles only 1.00 each.
Best Salaratus only 14.50 per pound
Hip boots, warranted waterproof 100.00
Pair of pantaloons, good quality 36.00
Sugar--good--only 2.00 per pound
Coffee, five pounds for 9.00
Good picks, shovels, tin-pans at only 57.00 each.
"Whew!" and Thure drew in a long breath, when he had finished reading the sign. "It's lucky we brought our outfits along with us, or we'd be bankrupt before we could get out of Sacramento City. Well, those prices certainly prove that the gold is here. Nobody could live if it wasn't. And, when you stop to think that most of the stuff has to be brought thousands of miles and then packed for some two hundred miles more into a roadless wilderness, the prices don't look so high--Well, what's the rumpus now?" and Thure whirled partly around on his horse to look back to where a huge red-headed man had suddenly jumped up on top of a barrel in front of one of the stores, and was yelling something, just what he could not understand, and pointing excitedly in his direction.
A sound, like a growl from the throats of a hundred angry wolves, went up from the surrounding crowd, and a great wave, headed by the red-headed man, rolled threateningly toward the two wondering boys.
"What--what can be the trouble?" and Bud turned an anxious face to Thure. "They look mad; and they are coming straight toward us! What can have happened? Who are they after?" and he looked confusedly around.
"Pull them off their horses!"
"Hang them!"
"The murderers!"
The air was now filled with these and similar dreadful cries and men came running toward them from all directions; and, before the two boys could fairly realize what was happening, they found themselves the center of a seething crowd of excited and angry men, while a hundred armed hands were lifted threateningly toward them.
"God in heaven, they are after us!" and Thure, too utterly astounded for the moment to realize the terrible nature of their situation, stared wildly into the surrounding angry faces. "What--what--"
But, before he could put his stammering dumbfounded query, strong hands seized and jerked him roughly from his horse, while other hands at the same moment jerked Bud off his horse. One of the men who seized and pulled Thure from his horse was the big red-headed man, who had jumped up on top of the barrel and who had led the rush against the two boys. The moment Thure looked into his face he started back in horror. The man had a broken nose!
At this moment and before either boy had collected his startled wits sufficiently to even offer a protest or to demand what this rough laying on of hands meant, a big man drove, like a sharpened wedge, through the crowd, and halted, with a hand tightly gripping the coat collar of each terrified lad.
"What is the trouble?" he demanded authoritatively. "What have the young men done?"
"The sheriff!" yelled someone in the crowd. "It's Turner, the sheriff!"
"Yes, it's Turner, the sheriff," and the man tightened his grips on Thure's and Bud's collars. "Hands off. They are my prisoners now," and he turned a bit impatiently to the men, whose hands still had hold of the boys. "Well, what have they done?"
"Murder!" "Murder!" yelled a dozen voices from the crowd.
"Why, they are little more than boys!" and the sheriff turned his eyes in astonished horror on Thure and Bud. "Who accuses them?"
"Me an' my pard do," and the big red-headed man with a broken nose, who had let go of Thure the moment the sheriff had him safely by the collar, stepped up in front of Turner. "We accuses them of murderin' an' robbin' John Stackpole, an old miner, who was on his way tew San Francisco from th' diggin's; an' what's more, we saw 'em do it with our own eyes; an' are ready tew swear tew th' same afore any judge an' jury. Ain't we Spike?" and he turned to a small man, with a pockmarked face, who was standing close to Bud.
"True as preachin'," declared the small man. "With my own eyes I saw 'em knock th' miner off his hoss with their guns, an' then jump on him, an' run a knife through his heart, an' jerk off his gold-belt, an'--"
"You lie!" and the hard fist of Bud's sturdy right arm landed squarely on the chin of the man, with such force that he was knocked backward, senseless, into the arms of a man standing behind him. "You and Brokennose killed him yourselves. We--"
"Shut up!" and the sheriff whirled Bud violently around in front of him. "Now, young man, another move like that and I will put you in irons. Here, Dave," and he turned to a roughly dressed miner standing near, "just pull their teeth, while I hold them. They're beginning to look some rambunctuous."
And, indeed, Thure and Bud did look "rambunctuous"; for by now both boys were beginning to get an inkling of the game that was being played on them by the two scoundrels. But, what could they do? Everything had happened so suddenly and unexpectedly, that they were in the hands of the sheriff before either of them had recovered his wits sufficiently to even open his mouth in protest or defense.
"Quiet, quiet," cautioned the roughly dressed miner, whom the sheriff had summoned to his aid, in a low voice, as he swiftly pulled the boys' knives and pistols from their belts. "Don't let your tempers git tew buckin'. You're a sight better off in th' hands of th' sheriff, who will see that you git a fair trial, than you would be in the hands of the mob, who sometimes string a feller up first an' try him afterwards."
Thure and Bud promptly saw the wisdom of this counsel and allowed the miner to disarm them without protest.
"Now, Dave, I'll make you my deputy until this little matter is settled. Bring along the animals and I'll see that these two young--" The sheriff paused and looked curiously into the faces of Thure and Bud. "I'll be hanged, if you look much like murderers!" he declared frankly. "Howsomever, I am not the judge; and you can't always tell whether or not a dog has got fleas by his looks."
"We are innocent, absolutely innocent," began Thure excitedly. "We did not kill the old miner. We--"
"Save your talk," broke in the sheriff good-naturedly, glancing sharply into the boy's face, "for the trial. I'll see that you get a fair trial; and that's all that I can do. Now, you two men that make this accusation of murder against the prisoners, come along," and he glanced keenly at the two men.
Brokennose still stood near Thure; and the one called Spike had recovered sufficiently from his contact with Bud's fist to stand glaring at Bud, with an ugly scowl on his pock-marked face.
"Where are you goin' tew take 'em?" he demanded. "This ain't no jail case. We wants them tried immejiate. Thar ain't no need of lawyers an' jedges tew mix things up. We seed 'em kill th' miner, an' are willin' tew swear tew it, an' that otter be enough tew have 'em danglin' by their necks inside of half an hour."
"They'll dangle, when they've been proven guilty, according to the laws of this city; and not before," answered the sheriff dryly. "We'd give a dog a fair trial in this town before we'd hang him. Come, you can tell your stories to the alcalde," and, still keeping a tight grip on the collars of Thure and Bud, he started down the street toward the office of the alcalde, before whom all criminal cases were tried, followed by Dave, the miner, with the horses of the boys, their two accusers, and the crowd, which had made no move to dispute the authority of the sheriff, although a little growling had been done. They knew that they would not have long to wait. California justice in those days in the mining towns and camps was sudden.
