CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
NED DECIDES ON VISITING SAN FRANCISCO--LARRY PAYS A VISIT, AND RECEIVESA SEVERE DISAPPOINTMENT--THE ROAD AND THE CITY--UNEXPECTED NEWS.
Few joys in this life are altogether without alloy. The delightexperienced by Larry O'Neil and Captain Bunting, when they heard thehearty tones of Ned Sinton's voice, and the satisfaction with which theybeheld his face, when, in their anxiety to prevent his falling headlonginto "the hole," they both sprang out of the tent and rushed into hisarms, were somewhat damped on their observing that Tom Collins was notwith him. But their anxieties were speedily relieved on learning thatTom was at Sacramento City, and, it was to be hoped, doing well.
As Ned had eaten nothing on the day of his arrival since early morning,the first care of his friends was to cook some food for him; and Larrytook special care to brew for him, as soon as possible, a stiff tumblerof hot brandy and water, which, as he was wet and weary, wasparticularly acceptable.
While enjoying this over the fire in front of the tent, Ned related theadventures of himself and Tom Collins circumstantially; in the course ofwhich narration he explained, what the reader does not yet know, howthat, after Tom had recovered from his illness sufficiently to ride, hehad conducted him by easy stages to the banks of the great San Joaquinriver, down which they had proceeded by boat until they reachedSacramento.
Here Ned saw him comfortably settled in the best room of the best hotelin the town, and then, purchasing the largest and strongest horse hecould find, he set off, in spite of the rains, to let his comrades knowthat they were both safe, and, in Ned's case at least, sound.
"And, now, with reference to that letter."
"Ay, that letter," echoed the captain; "that's what I've bin wantin' youto come to. What can it mean?"
"I am as ignorant of that as yourself," answered Ned; "if it had onlybeen you who were mentioned in the letter, I could have supposed thatyour old ship had been relaunched and refitted, and had made asuccessful voyage to China during your absence; but, as I left noproperty of any kind in San Francisco, and had no speculations afloat, Icannot conceive what it can be."
"Maybe," suggested Larry, "they've heard o' our remarkable talents uphere in the diggin's, and they've been successful in gittin' usapp'inted to respansible sitivations in the new government I've hearedthey're sottin' up down there. I wouldn't object to be prime ministermeself av they'd only allow me enough clarks to do the work."
"And did you say you were all ready for a start to-morrow, captain?"inquired Ned.
"Quite. We've disposed of the claims and tools for fifteen hundreddollars, an' we sold Ah-wow along with the lot; that's to say, heremains a fixture at the same wage; and the little we meant to take withus is stowed away in our saddle-bags. Ye see, I couldn't foresee thatyou'd plump down on us in this fashion, and I felt that the letter wasurgent, and ought to be acted on at once."
"You did quite right," returned Ned. "What a pity I missed seeing BillJones at Sacramento; but the city has grown so much, and become sopopulous, in a few months, that two friends might spend a week in it,unknown to each other, without chancing to meet. And now as to thegold. Have you been successful since I left?"
"Ay," broke in Larry, "that have we. It's a great country intirely formen whose bones and muscles are made o' iron. We've dug forty thousanddollars--eight thousand pounds--out o' that same hole in the tint; forbysprainin' the ankles, and well-nigh breakin' the legs, o' eight or tinminers. It's sorry I'll be to lave it. But, afther all, it's a sicklyplace, so I'm contint to go."
"By the way, Larry, that reminds me I met a friend o' yours at the otherend of the settlement."
"I belave ye," answered Larry; "ivery man in the Creek's my fri'nd.They'd die for me, they would, av I only axed them."
"Ay, but a particular friend, named Kate, who--"
"Och! ye don't mane it!" cried the Irishman, starting up with an anxiouslook. "Sure they lived up in the dark glen there; and they wint off wanfine day, an' I've niver been able to hear o' them since."
"They are not very far off," continued Ned, detailing his interview withthe brother and sister, and expressing a conviction that the formercould not now be in life.
"I'll go down to-night," said Larry, drawing on his heavy boots.
"You'd better wait till to-morrow," suggested the captain. "The poorthing will be in no humour to see any one to-night, and we can make ahalt near the hut for an hour or so."
Larry, with some reluctance, agreed to this delay, and the rest of theevening was spent by the little party in making preparations for a starton the following day; but difficulties arose in the way of settling withthe purchasers of their claims, so that another day passed ere they gotfairly off on their journey towards Sacramento.
On reaching the mouth of the Little Creek, Larry O'Neil galloped aheadof his companions, and turned aside at the little hut, the locality ofwhich Sinton had described to him minutely. Springing off his horse, hethrew the reins over a bush and crossed the threshold. It is easier toconceive than to describe his amazement and consternation on finding theplace empty. Dashing out, he vaulted into the saddle, and almostgalloped through the doorway of the nearest hut in his anxiety to learnwhat had become of his friends.
"Halloo! stranger," shouted a voice from within, "no thoroughfare thisway; an' I wouldn't advise ye for to go an' try for to make one."
"Ho! countryman, where's the sick Irishman and his sister gone, thatlived close to ye here?"
"Wall, I ain't a countryman o' yourn, I guess; but I can answer a civilquestion. They're gone. The man's dead, an' the gal took him away in acart day b'fore yisterday."
"Gone! took him away in a cart!" echoed Larry, while he looked aghast atthe man. "Are ye sure?"
"Wall, I couldn't be surer. I made the coffin for 'em, and helped tolift it into the cart."
"But where have they gone to?"
"To Sacramento, I guess. I advised her not to go, but she mumbledsomething about not havin' him buried in sich a wild place, an' layin'him in a churchyard; so I gave her the loan o' fifty dollars--it was allI could spare--for she hadn't a rap. She borrowed the horse and cartfrom a countryman, who was goin' to Sacramento at any rate."
"You're a trump, you are!" cried Larry, with energy; "give us your hand,me boy! Ah! thin yer parents were Irish, I'll be bound; now, here'syour fifty dollars back again, with compound interest to boot--though Idon't know exactly what that is--"
"I didn't ax ye for the fifty dollars," said the man, somewhat angrily."Who are you that offers 'em!"
"I'm her--her--friend," answered Larry, in some confusion; "her intimatefriend; I might almost say a sort o' distant relation--only not quitethat."
"Wall, if that's all, I guess I'm as much a friend as you," said theman, re-entering his cabin, and shutting the door with a bang.
Larry sighed, dropped the fifty dollars into his leather purse, andgalloped away.
The journey down to Sacramento, owing to the flooded state of thecountry, was not an easy one. It took the party several days' hardriding to accomplish it, and during all that time Larry kept a vigilantlook-out for Kate Morgan and the cart, but neither of them did he see.Each day he felt certain he would overtake them, but each evening foundhim trying to console himself with the reflection that a "stern chase"is proverbially a long one, and that _next_ day would do it. Thus theystruggled on, and finally arrived at the city of Sacramento, withouthaving set eyes on the wanderer. Poor Larry little knew that, havinggone with a man who knew the road thoroughly, Kate, although shetravelled slowly, had arrived there the day before him; while Ned hadlengthened the road by unwittingly making a considerable and unnecessarydetour. Still less did he know that, at the very hour he arrived in thecity, Kate, with her sad charge, embarked on board a small riversteamer, and was now on her way to San Francisco.
As it was, Larry proposed to start back again, supposing they must havepassed them; but, on second thoughts, he decided to remain where he wasand make inquiri
es. So the three friends pushed forward to the CityHotel to make inquiries after Tom Collins.
"Mr Collins?" said the waiter, bowing to Sinton--"he's gone, sir, abouta week ago."
"_Gone_!" exclaimed Ned, turning pale.
"Yes, sir; gone down to San Francisco. He saw some advertisement orother in the newspaper, and started off by the next steamer."
Ned's heart beat freely again. "Was he well when he left?"
"Yes, sir, pretty well. He would have been the better of a longer rest,but he was quite fit to travel, sir."
Captain Bunting, who, during this colloquy, had been standing with hislegs apart, and his eyes glaring at the waiter, as if he had been mad,gave a prolonged whistle, but made no further remark. At this momentLarry, who had been conversing with one of the under-waiters, camerushing in with a look of desperation on his countenance.
"Would ye belave it," he cried, throwing himself down on a splendidcrimson sofa, that seemed very much out of keeping with the dress of therough miners whom it was meant to accommodate--"would ye belave it,they're gone!"
"Who are gone, and where to!" inquired Ned.
"Kate an'--an' the caffin. Off to San Francisco, be all that's onlucky;an' only wint little more nor an hour ago."
The three friends looked at each other.
"Waiter," said Captain Bunting, in a solemn voice, "bear-chops forthree, pipes and baccy for six, an' a brandy-smash for one; an', d'yehear, let it be stiff!"
"Yes, sir."
A loud laugh from Ned and Larry relieved their over-excited and pent-upfeelings; and both agreed that, under the circumstances, the captain'sorder was the best that could be given at that stage of theirperplexities. Having ascertained that there was not another steamer toSan Francisco for a week, they resolved to forget their anxieties asmuch as possible, and enjoy themselves in the great city of Sacramentoduring the next few days; while they instituted inquiries as to what hadbecome of their comrade, Bill Jones, who, they concluded, must still bein the city, as they had not met him on the way down.