– the expenses of which were to be equally shared by all.
Before starting, I left with young James Johnson my share of the gold we had already obtained – which amounted to about sixty ounces.
The hunter and I started – taking with us three mules. Each of us rode one – having our roll of blankets lashed to the croup of the saddle. A sixty pound bag of flour, some other articles of food, a tent, and the necessary “prospecting” tools formed “the cargo” of the third mule, which, in the language of California, was what is called a “pack-mule.”
My fellow prospecter was only known to me by the name of Hiram. I soon discovered that he was not an agreeable companion – at least, on such an expedition as that we had undertaken. He was not sociable; but, on the contrary, would remain for hours without speaking a word; and then, when called upon to say something, he would do so in a voice, the tones of which were anything but musical.
The animal I bestrode had been christened “Monte,” that of Hiram was called “Poker,” and the mule carrying “the cargo” was “Uker.” With such a nomenclature for our beasts, we might easily have been mistaken for a pair of card-sharpers.
Our progress over the hills was not very rapid. We were unable to go in a direct line; and were continually wandering around steep ridges, or forced out of our way by tributaries of the main river – which last we were frequently compelled to ascend for miles before we could find a crossing place.
Although fortunate in having good mules, I do not think that our travel averaged more than fifteen miles a day, in a direct line from where we started, though the actual distance travelled would be over thirty!
Late in the evening of our third day out, our pack-mule, in fording a stream, got entangled among the branches of a fallen tree; and, while trying to extricate the animal out of its dilemma, Hiram was pulled into the water, and jammed against a limb – so as to suffer a serious injury.
That night we encamped by the stream – near the place where the accident had happened; and, about midnight, when I was changing my mule – Monte – to a fresh feeding place, the animal became suddenly alarmed at something, and broke away from me – pulling the lazo through my hands, till not only was the skin peeled clean off my fingers, but one or two of them were cut clean to the bone. I reproached myself for not sooner having had the sense to let go; but, as usual, the reproach came after the damage had been done.
The mule, on getting free, started over the ridge as though she had been fired from a cannon – while Poker and Uker, taking the hint from their companion, broke their tethers at the same instant, and followed at a like rate of speed.
I returned to Hiram, and communicated the unpleasant intelligence: that the mules had stampeded.
“That’s a very foolish remark,” said he, “for you know I’m not deaf.”
This answer did not fall very graciously on my ear; but having made up my mind, to remain in good humour with my companion as long as possible, I pretended not to notice it. I simply said in reply, that I thought there must either be a grizzly bear, or Indians, near us – to have stampeded the mules.
“Of course thar is,” said Hiram, in a tone more harsh than I had ever before heard him use.
I fancied that he was foolish enough to blame me for the loss of the mules; and was a little vexed with him, for the way in which he had answered me.
I said nothing more; but, stepping aside I bandaged up my fingers, and tried to obtain a little sleep. At sunrise I got up; and, having first dressed my wounded fingers, I kindled a fire, and made some coffee.
“Come, Hiram!” said I, in an encouraging tone, “turn out, mate! We may have a hard day’s work in looking for the mules; but no doubt we’ll find them all right.”
“Find them yourself,” he answered. “I shan’t look for them.”
I had much difficulty in controlling my temper, and restraining myself from giving Hiram an uncourteous reply.
To avoid subjecting myself to any more of his ill-natured speeches, I returned to the fire, and ate my breakfast alone.
While engaged in this operation, I pondered in my own mind what was best to be done. It ended by my coming to the determination to go in search of my mule Monte; and, having found her, to return to my partners on the Yuba. I felt certain, that should I attempt farther to prosecute the expedition along with Hiram, and he continue to make the disagreeable observations of which he had already given me a sample, there would certainly be a row between us. In some parts of the world, where people think themselves highly enlightened, two men getting angry with one another, and using strong language, is not an unusual occurrence; and very seldom results in anything, more than both proving themselves snarling curs. But it is not so in California, where men become seriously in earnest – often over trifling affairs; and had a row taken place between my comrade and myself, I knew that only one story would have been told concerning it.
I finished my breakfast; and, leaving Hiram in his blankets, I started off over the ridge to find Monte. I searched for the mules about six hours; and having been unsuccessful in my search, I returned to the camp without them.
Hiram was still wrapped up in his blanket, just as I had left him; and then the truth suddenly flashed into my dark mind, like lightning over a starless sky.
Hiram was ill, and I had neglected him!
The bruise on his side, received against the fallen tree, was more serious than I had supposed; and this had misled me. He had made no complaint.
The moment I became aware of my mistake, I hastened to his side.
“Hiram,” said I, “you are ill? Forgive me, if you can. I fear that my thoughtlessness, and passionate temper, have caused you much suffering.”
He made no reply to my conciliatory speech. He was in a very high fever; and asked faintly for water.
I took the tin vessel, in which I had made the coffee; and having filled it at the stream, gave him a pint cup full.
He drank the water eagerly; and then found voice to talk to me. He said that he was glad that I had returned, for he wished to tell me where he had buried some gold, and where his wife and child were living, and could be written to.
He spoke with great difficulty; and soon called for more water.
I again filled the cup nearly full, and handed it to him. After drinking every drop that was in it, he requested me to give him the coffee-can; but, thinking that he had drunk enough water, I declined acceding to his request; and tried to persuade him, that too much water would do him a serious injury. He only answered me by clamouring for more water.
“Wait but a little while,” said I. “In a few minutes you shall have some more.”
“Give it me now! Give it me now! Will you not give me some now?”
Knowing that the quantity he had already drunk, could not fail to be injurious to him, I refused to let him have any more.
“Give me some water!” he exclaimed, with more energy of voice and manner, than I had ever known him to exhibit.
I replied by a negative shake of the head.
“Inhuman wretch!” he angrily cried out. “Do you refuse? Refuse to give a dying man a drop of water!”
I
