Four Months Among the Gold-Finders in Alta California: Being the Diary of an Expedition From San Francisco to the Gold DistrictsVizetelly, Henry
History
Four Months Among the Gold-Finders in Alta California: Being the Diary of an Expedition From San Francisco to the Gold Districts
Vizetelly, Henry
California -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction
We advanced cautiously, Malcolm and Bradshaw preceding the main body,
about twenty paces apart. The arrangement was for the five (namely,
Lacosse, Story, the Trapper, José, and myself) who composed the main
body, to form a semicircle, of which the two scouts would compose the
extreme points, and so to approach the Indians' camp, on nearing which
we were to fire a volley on them from our rifles, and, wheeling round,
drive our horses off and retreat. We were within two hundred paces of
the camp-fires when we were startled by the report of a rifle. A shrill
whistle followed; but we still advanced, and in a few moments came up
with Malcolm and Bradshaw, the sailor being supported in the arms of
his companion, who called out that the man was shot, and begged me to
look to him. The remainder of the party, hearing this, moved a few
paces forward, levelled their rifles, and were on the eve of firing,
when we were suddenly saluted, in true British vernacular, with an
exclamation of "D---- your eyes, who goes there?" This so startled our
party that it saved the lives, very probably, of the whole camp. They
halted for a moment, and consulted together as to the course to be
adopted. A shot had been fired from the camp, and one of our men
injured. They, therefore, concluded that we had stumbled on the camp of
one of those gangs of ruffians which were known to infest the hills at
the foot of the Sierra Nevada.
At this juncture I ran up to the group with the intelligence that
Bradshaw had been injured by a shot from his own rifle, which had
accidentally gone off, and which circumstance Malcolm had not, in the
first instance, explained. I told my companions that the man was
seriously wounded in the leg; that I had merely bandaged it up with a
handkerchief, and, leaving him in Malcolm's charge, had hastened
forward to let them know the fact, that no more blood might be shed. No
sooner was this explanation given than we heard a loud shout from the
lad Horry, followed, as I thought, by some faint groans; but none of
the others heard them, and I thought I might have been mistaken. It
was concluded that he was merely shouting in accordance with our
instructions, and no further notice was taken of the affair. At that
instant several horses came galloping by at full speed, passing within
a few yards of us, and, following them, we could discern half-a-dozen
mounted Indians. We guessed the truth at once. They had cut the bridles
of our horses, and were driving them away to rejoin their fellows,
which had been stolen from us in the morning. We levelled our rifles
and fired--reloaded, and fired again; and then, in the midst of a
chorus of hallooing and screaming from the camp just before us, and the
loud bellowing of the retreating Indians, started off in pursuit, and
soon succeeded in turning our animals round, the Indians vanishing as
rapidly as they had appeared.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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