There was a strong attraction which drew George Inwood toward the golden sands of California, to which we have not even hinted thus far; but it is high time it received notice.
Several years before, when the young student had just entered college, he was the Hudson in the ill-fated Henry Clay. On board, he formed the acquaintance of the most engaging young lady he had ever met. Intellectual, and , he felt strengthened mentally and morally when he left her presence—a condition far different from that in which one is sure to vacate the society of nine-tenths of the fashionable women of the present time.
A interest sprang up between the two, and everything was progressing toward a tenderer state of feeling, when that well-remembered burst upon the steamer. In the confusion and , Inwood, who was an excellent swimmer, became the means of saving Miss Marian Underwood and her father from death by drowning.
There can be but little doubt of the result of all this, had matters been left to take their natural course, but Inwood had just entered college, and the next tidings that reached him relating to the Underwoods was, that the father, who was quite wealthy, had removed to California, and settled quite a distance to the south of San Francisco. After deliberating a long time upon the matter, he addressed a respectful[26] but friendly letter to Marian, and then anxiously awaited the reply; but it never came, and, concluding that her hand was pre-engaged, he did not repeat the experiment, and did his best to forget her.
Absorbed in his studies and preparations for his sacred calling, he succeeded, not in forgetting her, but in preventing her occupying his thoughts so prominently, although this would have been impossible, had he known that the letter so carefully written had never reached its intended destination, and that the fair Miss Underwood often wondered and as often sighed that he did not seem to deem her worth the trouble of a letter.
But now that Inwood’s attention was toward California, the image of this lady constantly rose before him, and he found himself speculating, at all times of day, regarding her. The great question was, whether there was “room” for him in her thoughts—that is, the room which he wished—that which should exclude everything else. He resolved to find out her residence, and make her a call—his subsequent course regarding her to be by the reception he received, and her manner toward him.
The voyage to Aspinwall was without incident of mention, as was the trip across the on the new railroad, which had been finished a little over three years. The journey was an unceasing delight to Edwin, who was just of that age when everything seen and heard make such a impression upon the mind. The broad, surging Atlantic, the which skimmed like sea-gulls along the horizon’s edge, the glimpse of the tropical islands, the of the storm, the vegetation of the isthmus; these, and hundreds of other sights, made up a continual banquet for him upon which the eye could feast and never become sated.
Captain Romaine presented each of them with through tickets to San Francisco, so as to be sure of their reaching their destination without further expense.
They waited several days at Panama for the steamer which was to carry them the rest of the way, and when they went on board, found themselves greatly crowded for[27] room, and obliged to undergo much privation in the way of food; but they were as able to bear it as were the rest of the passengers, and were none the worse, when, on a bright morning in early spring, they landed in San Francisco.
The first step was to secure temporary , which was done without difficulty, and then, while Jim sat on the low porch in front of their “hotel,” and smoked his pipe, George and Edwin wandered over the new city. The curiosity of both was, perhaps, equal, and the day passed rapidly away in gazing at this wonderful giant which sprang so suddenly into full grown manhood.
By making careful , George learned that Mr. Underwood was settled to the south some fifty or sixty miles, and was one of the wealthiest land-owners and stock-raisers in that section—which was anything but pleasant information to Inwood, who would have much preferred to hear that they were in circumstances—in order that he might call upon them, and feel himself upon something like equal terms. The information, indeed, seemed to make our young friend reconsider his decision of calling upon the Underwoods until he returned from the mines with wealth, when he could have no in doing so.
Perhaps, if he passed within the vicinity of Underwood’s ranche, as some of the people termed it, he might seek occasion to get a glimpse or peep at Marian—but nothing in the world should induce him to do more.
George Inwood had about a hundred dollars—not enough to him the he needed. He had brought three rifles, three revolvers, and some cooking with him; but he still needed digging and mining , cloth for tents—to say nothing of a horse apiece, and one or two to carry their luggage.
As a matter of course, it was out of the question to think of these; and, as the best that could be done under the circumstances, he bought a rickety old , capable of carrying all that could be piled upon his back, and going like a clock when wound up, without or increasing his speed, and disposed to walk straight over[28] a , if it happened to be in his way, unless he was gradually shied off by Jim Tubbs placing his shoulder against his, and forcing him to from his course.
“Dat are beast’ll carry all we’ve got to carry, ’cept ourselves, an’ if thar’s only room for us to get on, he’d carry us too,” remarked the negro, when everything was ready, and they were about to start.
“Yes; he will answer for our luggage.”
“And must we walk?” inquired Edwin in dismay.
“I do not see how it is to be prevented,” replied his brother, as cheerfully as he could speak.
“Why don’t you buy free hosses?” inquired Jim.
“For the reason that I have not the funds to do it with. I haven’t enough money left to buy the poorest animal, in the shape of a horse, that walks the streets of San Francisco.”
“If you hain’t, mebbe somebody else has.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Inwood, in perplexity.
Ah! wasn’t that a moment of triumph for Jim Tubbs? How cool and deliberate he tried to be, as he shoved his great hand away down in his pantaloons pocket, until it looked as if he were at his shoe string, and finally fished up a huge leathern purse, so corpulent that it had very much the appearance of that kitchen known as the dough-nut.
“Dar!” he said, as he flung it carelessly toward the amazed George Inwood, “mebbe dar ain’t nofin’ in dat! Mebbe dat’s all ; mebbe Mr. Tubbs hain’t been sabin’ up his money dese five years! ’Spose you look at dat—p’raps dar may be sumfin’ or other in dar.”
Jim leaned back against the column of the porch, cocked his old wool hat on one side of his head, shoved both hands down into his pockets, carelessly swung one foot around the ankle of the other, so that it was supported on the toe, and then, smoking his little black pipe, looked at Inwood, as he opened the purse and counted out the yellow gold pieces one after the other, until he had finished.
“How much do you make?” asked Jim, in the same style that he would have inquired the time of day.
“Four hundred and seventy dollars. Is this all yours, Jim?” inquired Inwood, hardly comprehending the pleasant truth.
“Shouldn’t wonder now if I had sumfin’ to say ’bout it.”
The three withdrew to a more private place, where the money was again counted, and it was found to amount to the sum mentioned. Jim explained how he had been engaged in saving for the last five years, as he had an idea that there would come some “’casion” like this. He was shrewd enough to keep its existence a profound secret until the crisis in their affairs, well knowing that Inwood would have considered that moment of necessity as at hand long before.
And so the three horses were purchased, and a number of articles which they needed, and, leaving San Francisco, they took a southeast direction toward San Jose and continuing on in the same course, struck a pass in the Coast Range near the 37th parallel.
By this time, they were far beyond the limits of civilization, and traveling in a wild, country, where they occasionally met and miners, but more frequently encountered red men and wild beasts.
California then, as now, was rapidly filling up, but among the mountains were thousands of miles where the foot of white men had never trod, and where, beyond question, the auriferous particles lay in glittering masses, only waiting for the spade of the miner, or the rock-splitting powder of the blaster.
Before reaching the regions of the mountains, Inwood made careful inquiries, and learned that the residence of the Underwoods lay but a small distance from San Jose, and that, by a slight from his course, he could take it in his path. He did so, neither his brother nor the African entertaining the slightest suspicions of the true object which drew him .
They caught sight of the large Mexican-looking building, with its low roof, broad wings and extensive outbuildings, its vast droves of cattle and sheep, which were scattered[30] here and there over an area of many miles; all these signs of the and wealth of the owner, and it was with strange emotions that Inwood halted on a small a short distance away, and gazed down upon the pleasant scene.
He saw no signs of life about the house. Here and there were to be seen one or two men passing hither and thither, over the hills or among the cattle, but the house itself was as still as death, and the thought once occurred to his mind that, perhaps, the lay cold and inanimate within those shaded rooms, or, perhaps, Marian herself was stretched in the robes of the tomb.
Jim proposed that they should honor the proprietor of this estate by spending the evening with him, but Inwood objected, and they encamped in an adjoining piece of wood. When everything had been made ready for the night, and the full moon had risen, Inwood left his companions, and sauntered toward the house, his heart tumultuously with its emotions.
As he walked slowly by, he caught the faint notes of the guitar, and heard a low, sweet voice humming a familiar song. He looked in the direction whence it came, and, through the interlacing vines, could faintly detect the form and outline of Marian Underwood. He knew it was her—he recognized the voice, and twice he paused and was about to enter the gate; but he checked himself by a painful effort of the will, and, loitering as long as he dared in the vicinity, he turned on his heel and wandered back.
“When I return, I will call!” was the comforting conclusion he gave himself.
In a few days, by patient traveling and , they reached the eastern slope of the Coast Range, and found themselves in the San Joaquin Valley, where they intended to their search for gold. Carrying out their purpose of getting into a region where there was little danger of being disturbed by any of their own race, they followed the slope to the southward, keeping among the mountains, and guarding every movement.
They “prospected” a long time, and suffered at first for[31] want of food, but they soon overcame this difficulty, and their search for gold with greater than ever. They had poor fortune for awhile, but they pushed forward, and finally came upon a small mountain stream, which contained an abundance of the shining particles among its sands.
Here they would have pitched their tent, had they not accidentally discovered a cave, which answered their purpose so well, that they carried everything within, and at once made it their quarters. Their horses were tethered in a further down the stream, where they were visited once a day to see that all was well.
They had been here but a few days, when they discovered signs of Indians, and Edwin was put on watch, while the others busied themselves in “making hay while the sun shone.” The young sentinel had been there but a short time, when he the troublesome visitors approaching along the slope; and what then and there took place our good readers have already learned.