California -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; Western stories
Since the matter seemed settled, and Johnny delighted, I said no more.
My cradle occupied me for three days longer. In that length of time
Johnny banged away an immense quantity of ammunition, much of it under
the personal supervision of Danny Randall. The latter had his own ideas
as to the proper practice. He utterly refused to let Johnny shoot at a
small mark or linger on his aim.
"It's only fairly accurate work you want, but quick," said he. "If you
practise always getting hold of your revolver the same way, and squeeze
the trigger instead of jerking it, you'll do. If you run against robbers
it isn't going to be any target match."
When my cradle was finished, I went prospecting with a pan; and since
this was that golden year 1849, and the diggings were neither crowded
nor worked out, I soon found 'colour.' There I dragged my cradle, and
set quite happily to work. Since I performed all my own labour, the
process seemed slow to me after the quick results of trained
cooperation; yet my cleanings at night averaged more than my share used
to be under the partnership. So I fell into settled work, well content.
A week later Johnny rode up on a spirited and beautiful horse, proud as
could be over his mount.
He confided to me that it was one of the express horses; that the first
trip would be very soon; and that if I desired to send out my own
savings, I could do so. I was glad to do this, even though the rates
were high; and we easily persuaded Yank of the advisability. Nobody
anticipated any danger from this first trip, for the simple reason that
few knew anything about it. Randall and his friends made up the amount
that could be carried by the three men. For the first time I learned
that Johnny had companions. They started from our own tent, a little
after sundown. Indeed, they ate their supper with us, while their
beautiful horses, head high, stared out into the growing darkness. One
of the express riders was a slight, dark youth whom I had never seen
before. In the other I was surprised to recognize Old Hickory Pine. He
told me his people had "squatted" not far from Sacramento, but that he
had come up into the hills on summons by Danny Randall. The fact
impressed me anew as to Randall's wide knowledge, for the Pines had not
been long in the country.
The trip went through without incident. Johnny returned four days later
aglow with the joy of that adventurous ride through the dark. Robbers
aside, I acknowledge I should not have liked that job. I am no horseman,
and I confess that at full speed I am always uneasy as to how a
four-hoofed animal is going successfully to plant all four of them. And
these three boys, for they were nothing else, had to gallop the thirty
miles of the road to Sacramento that lay in the mountains before dawn
caught them in the defiles.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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