up, up, up, with jenny digging in her toes, snorting and puffing and picking her way over the roughness of the worn rocks. occasionally there was a brief level spot where one might stop and pant and rest. indeed, this was a hard trail for anybody, man or beast, and terry felt considerable sympathy for the laboring ox-teams and the straining horses that drew the jolting, groaning wagons.
the outfits descending seemed to have almost as difficult a time, for the wagons, their heavy brake-shoes smoking and their boughs dragged behind, enveloping them in dust, threatened to run over the teams.
but it was a stirring scene, although whether any of the people coming down were bringing gold could not be learned amidst such racket and confusion.
part way up another friend was encountered. he was the wheel-barrow man, halted to breathe so as to be able to push his barrow to the next resting place.
"tough sledding," he wheezed, as he sat upon his barrow handles and wiped his brow with a bandanna handkerchief. "wust yet, but i'm bound to get there."
they left the wheel-barrow man behind. at every turn they expected to see the summit beyond, but the climb required over an hour and a half of steady work.
here, on the top, they were high above table mountain.
"whew!" gasped harry. the top was flat, and they drew aside, while they rested. everybody halted here to rest. it was a fine view. down below, whence they had come, was the trail, with other outfits zig-zagging up; and farther was the trail along clear creek, and farther, the platte river; and farther, the plains, and cherry creek, and denver and auraria, all wonderfully sharp in the perfectly transparent air. the people at the foot of the trail and beyond looked like pigmies, and the wagons like toys.
before, the trail stretched across the mountain top and appeared to aim straight into a tremendous wild country of much higher mountains, timbered with evergreens and capped with snow.
the gold-seeker companies were again starting on.
"do we reach gregory gulch today?" inquired harry, of a returning party.
"no, sir; not by a long shot. 'tisn't any use, anyhow. every foot of ground is taken up. there are two thousand people in that gulch already, and the same in the other gulches. the gregory folks have the best claims. nothing left for us later comers."
the trail continued to follow a high ridge, amidst pines and bright flowers and grass; crossed icy cold streams where the ridge dipped; and by night had arrived nowhere in particular. so camp was made, the pleasantest camp of the whole trip from the big blue valley, because the air was so fresh and pure, and the water and wood abundant, and the grass so sweet for jenny.
"i reckon we're getting into the promised land," hazarded one of the extra limited's neighbors.
the next noon the mountain divide seemed to have been crossed; for at one side, far down, was clear creek again, like a silver thread traversing a dark seam that was a canyon. about two miles ahead it divided, and over the north branch hung a thin bluish film of smoke. the sounds of ax and hammer and ringing pick—yes, the faint sound of voices—drifted up.
gregory gulch? that must be it, under the smoke, for the procession was hastening, and presently down, down, down they all plunged, for the bottom where the north branch of the creek glimmered. this trail was as steep as the zigzag trail on the east slope. the wagons used boughs as drags; oxen and horses held back hard; and jenny, bracing her forefeet, slid and pitched and grunted. faster and faster they all moved—could not stop—until in twenty minutes they fairly tumbled, one after another, into the water and the mouth of gregory gulch!
"well, i should say she was crowded!" exclaimed harry.
he and terry gazed, consternated. gregory gulch extended westward from the north clear creek; it was narrow and quite long, and all up and down the creek and as far as eye could see up the gulch, people were swarming like bees, while the newly arrived gold-seekers looked on, bewildered.
tents had been erected, cabins were rising, bough lean-tos served as other shelters; men were feverishly delving with spades, washing out the dirt in their pans, or dumping dirt and water into wooden boxes that rocked like cradles; and other men were searching the bottoms and slopes for vacant spots and there hurriedly driving in stakes. a few women were in sight—one woman was helping her husband dig; several were sitting in doorways or trying to tidy their premises.
no wonder that the newly arrived people were bewildered. some grew gloomy at once and discouraged, but some waxed the more excited.
"first thing is to find a camping spot," proposed harry, briskly. "and then to find our mine."
"how'll we find it?" asked terry. "where is the gold? i don't see any."
"this is gregory gulch, is it?" queried harry, of the nearest miner—a red-headed, red-stubbled little man squatting in mud to his ankles beside a trickling stream, and twirling a gold-pan. he was muddied all over his tattered trousers and red shirt, and also to his elbows.
"it is; at laste it's the gregory diggin's." he spoke with a strong irish brogue.
"have you found lots of gold?" invited terry.
"oi? not a cint, b'gorry—an' here's another empty pan." as if in disgust the little man straightened up and surveyed them. "but that's not sayin' oi won't. oi've got a foine claim right under me feet. did yez jist get in? would yez like to buy a nice claim?" he eyed them shrewdly with his twinkling eyes set in his grimy, sweaty face.
"not yet, thank you," responded harry. "where's the gold?"
"gold? faith, all yez got to do is foind it. sure, ain't it here in gregory gulch, an' don't yez see all the people diggin'? didn't gregory an' five men take out $972 in wan week from their vein, an' afterward sell for $2,100 an' lend the men who bought it $200 so they could go ahead?"
"where are they? where is that vein?"
"up yonder on the side o' the gulch; but yez can't get annywhere near it, for the people an' the stakes. they don't want visitors. jist drive your stakes where yez can, an' begin work. my name's pat casey. what might yez be called?"
they told him.
"well, oi'll see yez ag'in, boys," promised pat, grasping his spade to refill his pan. "who knows but in a few days we'll all be rich together?"
"all right, pat," laughed harry. so they left pat engaged with his spade, hoping to strike it with the next pan full.
they toiled along, eyes alert for a camping spot. a tent bore the sign: "groceries for sail." another was announced as "miners' hotel"—although where it slept its guests was a problem. another tent, through the flaps of which might be glimpsed a woman, stated: "back east biscuits."
dinner of course was a hurried affair. other gold-seekers were still descending the hill and spreading out wherever they could. so no time was to be lost. they each slung on a gold-pan by means of a thong tied through a hole in the rim; and with pick and spade (shep staying to mount guard) they sallied forth.
"i reckon," mused harry, "we'll have to do like the rest do: scout about and whenever we see a goldish-looking spot, try it out."
"dad showed us how to work a gold pan. i don't suppose we've forgotten," panted terry, as they hustled.
"yes, but he didn't show us how to find the gold," reminded harry. "we ought to locate near water."
for an hour they trudged up and down, and never sunk a spade or tried a pan. all the creek and all the side streams seemed occupied. once they halted and were just about to dig, when a voice bawled: "get off my ground!"
"excuse me," apologized harry. the owner of the voice was some distance away. "is this your claim?"
"you bet you! the best claim in the diggin's."
"how big is a claim?" demanded harry.
"well, a hundred feet by fifty and as much more as i can get. now vamoose."
they "vamoosed."
"two thousand people, claiming a hundred feet and as much more as they can get, doesn't leave much room for the rest of us," sighed harry.
"hello, there!" hailed another voice, more cheery. it was the "root hog or die" professor. he also was equipped for mining, but he appeared to be a wanderer like themselves.
"have you struck anything?" asked terry, as soon as they had shaken hands.
"not a sign. have you?"
"no. can't find a place to dig in, even."
"this prospecting is more of a science than i had thought," confessed the professor. he looked tired out. "i've been at it since morning. i had an idea the gold would show on the surface."
"so did we," admitted terry. "but the ground all looks alike—just common dirt!"
"yes, even where they're actually washing gold out," said the professor. "i've seen some gold, though. i saw one miner with a pan that gave about a dollar and a half, and i saw a clean-up in a sluice that netted eight dollars."
"what's a sluice? one of those wooden troughs?"
"yes; but lumber for them is hand-sawed and costs a dollar a yard, and people are asking as high as a thousand dollars for a claim. i believe it's cheapest to hire somebody to locate a good claim for a fellow. the russells and gregory and some others who have had experience are hiring themselves out at $100 a day, i understand. there goes green russell now."
"a hundred dollars a day! whew!" gasped terry.
captain green russell halted in passing.
"got here, did you?" he greeted, in friendly fashion. "made your fortune yet?"
"we may be standing on it, for all we know," answered harry.
"for all you know, you may," drawled mr. russell. "that's the trouble. the people come in here, like they do at cherry creek, and think the gold shows at grass-roots. but gregory didn't find his lode by any pure luck, and the rest of us old-timers are here to teach the folks how, if they want to learn."
"could you put me on a good claim?" inquired the professor, eagerly.
"yes, sir; i'll prospect for you at $100 a day. you'd save time and probably money."
"all right. i'll go with you and we'll talk it over." and on strode the professor and his instructor.
"hum!" remarked harry. "the secret of making money is to have something the other fellow will pay for: sometimes that's goods, and again it's knowledge."
the gulch really was a fascinating place. such a hive of industry—saw and hammer at work, as well as pick and spade; but amidst it all there seemed to be no place for the extra limited. a general disappointment was in the air, with so many persons working hard and as yet getting nothing.
"we'll travel 'round to pat," quoth harry, after a time. "he may have struck something by this."
as they approached pat, he suddenly uttered a loud whoop, and danced a jig. his neighbors dropped their tools and rushed for him.
"sure, oi'm rich!" cheered pat. "there's gold in my pan! hooray! rich oi am. half o' yez can look at a time till yez all are done, an' the other halves kape away so yez won't carry off me gold on yez feet."
yes, in the bottom of pat's pan was a trace of yellow, not to speak of a pebble about the size of a pea which he proclaimed to be gold also.
scarcely hearing the congratulations, pat fell to work again.
"jiminy!" protested terry. "we've got to stake out a claim somewhere, and have a mine ready for dad and george. let's go clear up the gulch."
pat's success was encouraging, at least. but as up the gulch they went, the crowd was no thinner, and presently harry stopped.
"this pick and shovel weigh a ton," he said. "and so do my feet. i vote we knock off work, quit locating gold and try to locate supper. first thing we know it'll be dark and we can't find even jenny and shep."
"w-well," agreed terry. "and tomorrow we'll start out again early. wish i knew just what kind of dirt had the gold in it."
"that," quoth harry, "evidently is the secret."
scarcely had they turned to retrace their steps when another call hailed them. somebody was running for them, from the other side of the gulch. he was a slim, muddy figure, in boots and trousers much too large for him, with long hair flapping on his bared head.
they paused and stared.
"aren't you the pike's peak limited fellows?" panted the boy.
"why, archie smith! hello, archie!"
"i thought it was you, but i wasn't sure." archie was completely out of breath, and very red in his thin cheeks. he panted and coughed. "what are you doing? prospecting? have you struck anything? do you want a claim?"
"we're looking 'round. no, we haven't struck anything yet," they answered. "have you? how long have you been here?"
"do you know of any good place to claim?" added terry.
"yes. and you won't have to drive a stake! when did you get in? where's your camp?"
"down yonder somewhere. we got in this morning."
"gee, but i'm glad to see you," panted archie. "hurrah! let's go to your camp and move your stuff. what you got? the cart? didn't buy a tent, did you?"
"no. we came in with just the mule. expect we'll fix up a bough hut till we strike it rich," explained terry.
"no, you needn't. you're to stay on my place. i've got a cabin and a stove and—and——" here archie lowered his voice, "boys, i've struck it rich, myself! i've got the best claim in these diggin's!"
"you have! how long have you been here?"
"about two weeks. come on and i'll tell you about it. do you know anything about mining?"
"no," they confessed, ruefully.
"i didn't, either," admitted archie, as together they pressed on for jenny and shep and the packs. "so i bought a claim. there was a man here who couldn't stay—he had to go down to denver; and i bought his claim for only $500. first i'd prospected for myself, and didn't find anything, and then i came across him just in time. gee, i was lucky. he wouldn't have sold, only he was obliged to get out. of course, i panned samples of it before i bought, and in the very first pan there was four dollars' worth of gold! he sold me his cabin and stove and everything. boys——" and archie's voice sank again, "you may not believe it, but i've already taken out near $80, by myself, and i can't dig very long at a time, either."
"how'd you pay for it?" blurted terry. "did you have the money with you?"
"yes. our outfit had put in $200 apiece, for the trip across the plains, and we'd spent only half, and i carried that because i was treasurer. i paid for the stage ride from the station, though; but in denver i worked at the hotel—and—and i nursed a gambler who was sick, and when he found out that i'd studied medicine he said i'd saved his life and he gave me $250 as a doctor's fee. but i'm not a regular doctor yet. now you fellows are to come and work the mine. it's named the golden prize, and it's yours!"
harry stopped short. terry scarcely could believe his ears.
"what?" challenged harry.
"aw, get out!" scoffed terry.
"but it is," insisted archie. "i've been just praying that you'd come along. i didn't really save that gambler's life, though he was right sick. but you saved mine; and if he thought what i did was worth $250, i reckon what you did was worth three or four times that because you risked your lives, too. and anyway, i can't stay. it's too high for me up here. i lose my breath. i feel a heap better down on the plains, and i guess i'll go back home for a spell. if i don't give the mine to you somebody'll jump it. there isn't anybody up here i can trust."
"but, great cæsar!" expostulated harry. "we'll work it, if you want us to, while you're gone. we won't accept it forever, though."
"i should say not!" affirmed terry. "we can find our own claim."
"no, you can't. the trained miners are the ones who find the best ground, and you're not trained. all right: you can work it just as if it were your own, and you can have all you find till i come back."
"cracky, but that will make us rich, won't it?" cried terry.
"of course it will. i've taken $80 in four days and i tell you i've just dug a little bit. it tires me all out to dig; and the water's so far. but you fellows can put in a sluice—i'll lend you enough dust to buy boards with, if you haven't enough——"
"we've got a little, and if we haven't enough we'll dig out more," declared harry, quickly.
"and with a sluice running you can just pile up the yellow!"
"whoop-ee!" cheered terry, wildly. "we're rich at last."
