Jasper County Democrat, Volume 19, Number 59, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 October 1916 — GOLD [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

GOLD

By STEWART EDWARD WHITE

SYNOPSIS Talbot Ward’s challenge to Frank Munroe to a personal encounter to determine whether Munroe Is fit to make a trip to California in search of gold is accepted. Munroe gets a hammerlock on Ward and wins the bout. Arriving at Chagres, Talbot Ward’s knowledge of Spanish and his firm treatment of the native boatmen help wonderfully. The party enters a tropical forest. They reach Gatun, and, after passing through several villages where Waid always diplomatically handles the natives, they arrive in Panama. Ward forces steamship agent to refund passage money because ship Isn't available. Tank has provided accommodations for all on board a sailing ship. They arrive in San Francisco. Ward puts It up to each man to get $220 In one day. Munroe makes $25 as a laborer. Johnny gambles and gets $220. Ward astounds the party by telling how, by shrewd business deals In one day Id theDGolden City, he accumulated several thousand dollars. Ward decides that he will not go faith the party to the mines, but will stay lu Sett Francisco, where he thinks more gold Is to be found. The party dig their first gold. They are not much encouraged when told that the value of their first pan is 12 cents. Don Gaspar, a Spaniard, and his man•ervant Vasquez Join forces with the trio and the gold Is divided into five parts.

CHAPTER XVI. On Trail of the Indians. IWAS terribly excited. The pattei of the horses was now plainly audible, though, owing to the inequalities of the ground, they could not become visible farther than a hundred yards away. I trembled violently and cursed myself for a coward, though I really do not think I wai frightened. At any rate, I becamt deadly cool the moment the first savage appeared, and I drew as steady bead and toppled him off his horse before any one else had got in action. The shot brought them to a stand. They had, I think, expected to find u* in our ravine and were surprised. Immediately I dropped the butt of my rifle to the ground and began reloading. A shower of arrows flew toward us, but were deflected by the crisscross of the willows. In fact, this lacework of stout branches seemed to be an excellent sort of armor against arrows. In the meantime my companions had each dropped his man, though Vasquez had better luck than skill, as his savage was only clipped in the leg. I fired once more and elicited a howl. There could be no missing at the distance unless a man quite lost his head, and personally I was too scared for that. Another shower of arrows rattled in % tbe willows; then the band broke to right and left and raced away up the hills like mad. They had no courage and lost stomach for the fight at once when they found us prepared. We were astonished and delighted, for we had fully expected to be ridden down. As soon as we were quite certain this sudden retreat was not a ruse we came out from our shelter. How many wounded had made off, if any, we could not tell. Three dead bodies lay on the ground. To them we paid no attention, but, with many forebodings, hurried back to camp. When we appeared in sight Missouri Jones ian out to meet us, his rifle over Ws arm. “Where’s Johnny?” I cried. “He was down at the river a-getting water,” said Jones, “and I ain’t seen him since.” • We all ran down to the edge of the river pool whence we drew our supply. For a moment our hearts stood still, for no Johnny was in sight. Then he arose dripping from the middle of the pool. “This water’s cold,” he remarked conversationally. “I think I’ll come *»t. Anybody hurt?” He waded ashore and shook himself like a dog. “I didn’t hear ’em until they were right on top of me, and I Wouldn’t get away without being seen,” said he, “so I just waded out and imitated a rock with my head.” We roared with laughter by way of relief. “It isn’t the first time, Johnny,” said I. “That’s all right,” put in Missouri Jones. “This is no joke. They got three of our hosses.” Then he told us his experience. “I was just a-browning of the venison,” he explained, “when I happened to look up, and thar was three of our hosses running off, tails up, and a half dozen Injuns a-hossback driving ’em. I let drive with old Betsy and Johnny’s gun, but they was about out Qf range. While I was looking after them about forty Injuns went past sky-hootin’. I suppose they thought the first lot had all the hosses, and so they didn’t stop. The rest of the hosses, luckily, was asleep behind the cottonwoods. You bet I didn't call their attention to myself.” He exhibited the greatest satisfaction when he learned that we had accounted for four. “That’s something like Injun fight-

Ing,” he observed, "though these are a pore, spiritless lot The whole beg ain’t worth more than one of them good hosses.” . We did no more gold washing that day, but remained close In camp, consumed with anxiety for our companions. From to time we fired a rifle, with the* idea of warning them that something was amiss. The remaining half dozen horses we ran into the corral. Night fell, and still the hunters did not return. We were greatly alarmed and distressed, but we could not think of anything to do, for we had not the least idea in what direction to look. “Bagsby and Yank are old hands,” speculated Missouri Jones consolingly. “And the fact that Injuns is abroad would make them slow and careful.” None of us felt like turuiug in. We all sat outside on the ground around a litle fire. Toward midnight we heard voices, and a moment later Yank and Bagsby strode in out of the darkness. “Where’s McNally?” Yank Distantly demanded. “Hasn’t he come in yet?” We told him we had seen nothing of the missing man. “Well, he'll drift in pretty soon,” said Bagsby. “We lost him in the darkness not two hours back.” They set to frying some venison steak. Excitedly and in antiphony Johnny and I detailed the day’s adventure. Both the backswoodsmen listened in silence, but without suspending their cooking. “They didn’t bother McNally,” Bagsby decided. “They’d drive those hosses away five or six miles before they’d stop. And McNally was with us Just

a little piece back. He’ll be in by the time the venison is cooked.” But he was not, nor by an hour later. Then we decided that we must go out to look for him. “We can’t see nothin’ till daylight,” said Bagsby, “but we can get started back for the last place we saw him.” It was now about 1 o’clock in the morning. Bagsby appointed Vasquez, Missouri Jones, Buck Barry, Yank and myself to accompany him. Don Gaspar was suffering from a slight attack of malarial fever, and Johnny, to his vast disgust, was left to hold him company. We took each a horse, which we had to ride bareback and with a twisted rope “war halter.” We proceeded thus for a long time — five or six miles, I should think. By the undefined feeling of dark space at either hand I judged we must be atop a ridge. Bagsby halted. “It was somewhere on this ridge we left him,” said he. “I reckon now we’d just better set down and wait for dawn.” Accordingly we dismounted and drew together in a little group. Over the top of the great ranges a gibbous moon rose slowly. By her dim light I could make out the plunge on either side our ridge and the other dark ridges across the way. Behind us our horses occasionally stamped a hoof or blew through their noses. I lay flat on my back and idly counted the stars. Happening to glance sidewise, I caught the flicker of a distant light. “Bagsby.” I whispered, “there’s a fire barely more than a half mile away.” He, too, lay down in order to get my angle of view. “It’s not McNally,” he pronounced after a moment’s careful inspection, “for it’s too big a fire, and it’s a lot more than half a mile away. That’s a good big fire. I think it’s Injuns.” “Probably the same gang that lifted our hosses!” cried Buck. “Probably,” agreed Bagsby. He sat upright and peered at us through the dim moonlight. “Want to get after them?” he inquired. “You bet!” said Buck emphatically. “They may have McNally, and if they haven’t they’ve got our horses.” “There’s six of us, and we can shore make it interesting for that lot,” agreed Yank. “Can we get to where they are?” “I think so,” said Bagsby. We rode for another hour, slanting down the' mountain side toward the flickering fire. Every time a horse rolled a rock or broke a dried branch It seemed to me that the mountains reverberated from end to end. I don’t believe I allowed myself to weigh over six ounces all told. Finally we left the slope for the bottom of the valley. “I’d rather be below their camp than above it It’s going to be hard to get out this way,” complained Bagsby, “but it’s the best we can do.” He dis-

mounted, us, and we crept forward another half mile, leading our animals. “This Is as close as I dare take the hosses,” whispered Bagsby. “Vasquez, you stay here tfrlth them,” he said in Spanish, “and when I yell twice quick and sharp you answer, so we’U know where to find you. Come on!” We raised our pieces, but before the command to fire was given one of the sleepers threw aside-his blanket, stretched himself and arose. It was a white man! I confess that for a moment I turned physically sick. “Hello!” called Bagsby, quite unmoved. The white man seized his rifle, and the recumbent forms leaped to life. “Who are you?” he demanded sharply. “Speak quick!” “Keep yore ha’r on!” drawled the trapper, advancing into the light. “We’re perfectly respectable miners, out looking fftr a lost man, and-we saw yore fire.” The rest of us uttered a yell of joy and relief. One of the men who had been sleeping around the fire was McNally himself. x We drew together, explaining, congratulating. The strangers, six in number, turned out to be travelers from the eastern side of the ranges. They listened with interest and attention to our account of the Indian attack. McNally explained that he had been uncertain of his route In the dark, so that when he caught sight of the fire he had made his way to it- We were still engaged in this mutual explanation when we were struck dumb by a long drawn out yell from the direction of our own horses. “It is Vasquez,” explained Barry. “He wants to let us know where he is.” And he answered the yell. But at that moment one of our own horses dashed up to the bunch of picketed animals and wheeled, trembling. Its rope bridle dangled broken from its head. Sam Bagsby darted forward to seize the hanging cord. “It’s cut!” he cried. “Quick! Out across the valley, boys!” We followed him into the moonlight, grasping our rifles. A moment later a compact band swept toward us at full speed, our horses in the lead, their rope halters dangling, a dozen Indians on horseback following close at their heels and urging them on. "Shoot, boys!” yelled Bagsby, discharging his own piece. Our rifles cracked. It was impossible to take aim, and I am sure we hit

nothing. But the horses swerved aside from the long fiery flashes, and so ran into the picketed lot and stopped. The Indians flew on through our scattered line without stopping, pursued by a sputter of shots from our Colt’s revolvers. “Awhile ago I was sorry we had to stop above camp,” said Bagsby, with satisfaction, “but it was a lucky thing for us. They had to come by us to git out.” “And Vasquez?” Yank struck across our exultation. (To be continued.! Rust will disappear from steel if soaked in sweet oil for a day, followed with a rubbing with fresh lime.

With a Roar of Anger Buck Barry Raised His Pick Ax.

“This water's cold,” he remarked conversationally.