Part 7 (2/2)

”But you have not yet accounted for the appearance of Buckaw.a.n.ga?” said Will.

”Oh, as to that, Muggins recognised him one day in the street. We found he had come over from them rascally Cannibal Islands, in the service of a missionary--”

”What!” exclaimed Will, dropping his knife and fork.

”The missionary, you know,” said Captain Dall; ”Mr Westwood, who--”

”Is he--is his _family_--in San Francisco?” asked Will, recovering himself and pretending to be busy with his supper.

”Ay, he is on his way to England--waiting for a s.h.i.+p, I believe; but Buckaw.a.n.ga prefers the goldfields, and so, has come with us, as you see.”

”Are the Westwoods well--_all_ of them?”

”So far as we know, they are. But in regard to the gold hereabouts--”

”Ay, that's the thing,” said Larry, who had glanced at our hero with twinkling eyes when reference was made to the Westwoods; ”nothin' like goold to warm the heart of a poor man an' gladden the eyes of a rich wan. It's that same as'll interest the doctor most.”

”Well,” resumed the captain, ”as I was about to say--”

”Didn't I hear you say something about going to San Francisco for fresh supplies and more tools a few minutes ago?” asked Will, abruptly.

”You did; we are short of provender and hard up for tools. I meant to start to-morrow, but now that you've come I'll delay--”

”We'll not delay an hour,” cried Will, with unusual energy. ”It will never do to waste time here when people are making fortunes all round us. The rest of the party can remain to prospect--but you and I, captain, will start for San Francisco _to-morrow_!”

”Ho, ho!” said Larry to himself that night, as he smoked his pipe after retiring to rest; ”it's neck or nothin' is it--never ventur' never win, is the word? Well, well, 'tis the way o' the world. My blessin' go wid ye, doctor.” With this benediction on his lips he turned round, shook the ashes out of his pipe and went to sleep.

CHAPTER SIX.

IN WHICH WILL MAKES A RETROGRADE MOVEMENT, AND THINGS COME TO A PRETTY Pa.s.s--A SUDDEN AND DECISIVE STEP.

Next morning, true to his word, Will Osten started off to retrace his steps to San Francisco, much to the regret as well as surprise of all his friends, except Larry O'Hale and Bunco, both of whom, being aware of his motive, chuckled mightily in their sleeves but wisely said nothing.

Will was accompanied by Captain Dall and Mr Cupples, the former of whom gave him an account of his adventures since the period of their separation in the South Seas. As most of these adventures, however, were not particularly striking, and as they do not bear upon our tale, we will not inflict them on the reader, but merely refer to that part of the captain's career which was mixed up with our hero's new possessions in the Grizzly Bear Gulch, as his valley was named.

”You see, doctor,” said Captain Dall, as they cantered easily over the soft turf of a wide plain, which, a little beyond the entrance to the gulch, spread out for a considerable distance along the base of the Sierra Nevada, ”you see, when we discovered that this valley, or gulch, as they call it here, was yours--or your father's, which I suppose means the same thing--Captain Blathers, Mr Cupples, Muggins, Old Peter, and I held a council of war, and came to the conclusion that we would go up an' have a look at it, hopin' to find gold, but first of all we went to the regular diggin's on the Sacramento River to learn how to wash out the dirt an' make enough to keep us goin'. When we had done this an'

lined our pockets with enough of gold-dust to set us up, we started for Grizzly Bear Gulch, where we found n.o.body but Old Timothy, the native that had been your uncle's servant.”

”Timothy,” said Will, ”was that his name?”

”No, but he could not tell us his name, for the good reason that he does not understand a word of English, so we christened him Timothy, and he answers to it. The old man cut up rusty at first, and seemed disposed to drive us away, but by howling the name of Osten into his ears and giving him a little gold, we converted him into a friend, and got him to allow us to squat in the empty house. Then we went off prospecting, and found gold, sure enough, in the stream in front of the door, but there was not much in the places we tried--little more than enough to pay.”

”Then you don't think much of the property, I suppose,” said Will, ”for it is evident that in regard to agriculture it is not worth a straw?”

”I'm not so sure of that,” returned the captain. ”What do _you_ think, Mr Cupples?”

The mate, whose melancholy tones and expressions had increased with his sh.o.r.e-going experiences, said that he did not know; that he was no judge of such matters, but that gold _might_ be found in quant.i.ty, and, if so, the place would be worth something!

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