The Golden Dream: Adventures in the Far West Part 15

"I've come to tell you a piece of news, and to ask advice," he said; "but before doing so, I may tell you, in answer to your question, that the Sabbath here is devoted to drinking, gambling, and loafing about."

"I am not surprised to hear it," said Captain Bunting; "but pray what's i' the wind? Any new diggin's discovered?"

"A new digging certainly has been discovered," replied McLeod, with a peculiar smile, "but not precisely such a digging as one is wont to search for. The fact is, that in prospecting along the edge of the woods about a mile from this to-day, I came upon the body of a murdered man. It was covered with stones and branches of trees, which I removed, and I immediately recognised it to be that of a poor man who used to work not far from my own claim. I had missed him for more than a week past, but supposed that he had either gone to other diggings, or was away prospecting."

"Poor fellow!" said Ned; "but how, in such a matter, can _we_ help you with advice?"

"Well, you see I'm in difficult circ.u.mstances," rejoined the Scot, "for I feel certain that I could point out the murderer, yet I cannot _prove_ him to be such, and I want your advice as to what I should do."

"Let it be known at once that you have discovered the murdered man at any rate," said Maxton.

"That I have done already."

"Who do you think was the murderer?" inquired Ned.

"A man who used to live in the same tent with him at one time, but who quarrelled with him frequently, and at last went off in a rage. I know not what was the cause, but I heard him vow that he would be revenged.

He was a great coa.r.s.e fellow, more like a brute than a man, with a black beard, and the most forbidding aspect I think I ever saw."

"Wot wos his name?" inquired Bill Jones, while the party looked at each other as if they knew of such a character.

"Smith was the name he went by oftenest, but the diggers called him Black Jim sometimes."

"Ha! Smith--black beard--forbidding aspect! It strikes me that I too have seen the man," said Ned Sinton, who related to McLeod the visit paid to them in their camp by the surly stranger. While he was speaking, Larry O'Neil sat pondering something in his mind.

"Mister McLeod," said he, when Ned concluded, "will ye shew me the body o' this man? faix, I'm of opinion I can prove the murder; but, first of all, how is the black villain to be diskivered?"

"No difficulty about that. He is even now in the colony. I saw him in a gambling-house half-an-hour since. My fear is that, now the murder's out, he'll bolt before we can secure him."

"It's little trouble we'd have in preventin' that," suggested Larry.

"The consequences might be more serious, however, than you imagine.

Suppose you were to seize and accuse him, and fail to prove the murder, the jury would acquit him, and the first thing he would do, on being set free, would be to shoot you, for which act the morality of the miners would rather applaud him than otherwise. It is only on cold-blooded, unprovoked murder and theft that Judge Lynch is severe. It is a recognised rule here, that if a man, in a row, should merely make a _motion_ with his hand towards his pistol, his opponent is ent.i.tled to shoot him first if he can. The consequence is, that _b.l.o.o.d.y_ quarrels are very rare."

"Niver a taste do I care," cried Larry; "they may hang me tshoo times over, but I'll prove the murder, an' nab the murderin' blackguard too."

"Have a care," said Ned; "you'll get yourself into a sc.r.a.pe."

"Make sure you are right before you act," added Maxton. Larry O'Neil paid no attention to these warnings. "Are ye ready to go, Mister McLeod?" said he, impatiently.

"Quite," replied the other.

"Then come along." And the two left the camp together, armed with their rifles, knives, revolvers, and a shovel.

It was a dark night. Heavy clouds obscured the face of the sky, through which only one or two stars struggled faintly, and rendered darkness visible. The two men pa.s.sed rapidly along the little footpath that led from the colony to the more open country beyond. This gained, they turned abruptly to the right, and, entering a narrow defile, proceeded at a more cautious pace into the gloomy recesses of the mountains.

"Have a care, Larry O'Neil," whispered the Scotchman, as they advanced; "the road is not so safe here, owing to a number of pits which have been made by diggers after gold--they lie close to the edge of the path, and are pretty deep."

"All right; I'm lookin' out," replied Larry, groping his way after his comrade, at the base of a steep precipice.

"Here is the place," said McLeod, stopping and pus.h.i.+ng aside the bushes which lined the path. "Keep close to me--there is no road."

"Are ye sure o' the spot?" inquired Larry, in an undertone, while a feeling of awe crept over him at the thought of being within a few yards of a murdered man in such a dark, wild place.

"Quite sure. I have marked the trees. See there!" He pointed to a white spot on the stem of a tree, where a chip had been cut off, and close to which was a mound of earth and stones. This mound the two men proceeded to break up, and in less than ten minutes they disentombed the body from its shallow grave, and commenced to examine the fatal wound.

It was in an advanced state of decomposition, and they hurried the process by the light of a bright solitary star, whose flickering rays pierced through the overspreading branches and fell upon the ghastly countenance of the murdered man.

While thus occupied, they were startled by the sound of breaking twigs, as if some one were slowly approaching; whispering voices were also heard.

"It must be hereabouts," said a voice in a low tone; "he pointed out the place."

"Ho!" cried McLeod, who, with Larry, had seized and c.o.c.ked his rifle, "is that you, Webster?"

"Halloo! McLeod, where are you?"

In another moment a party of miners broke through the underwood, talking loudly, but they dropped their voices to a whisper on beholding the dead body.

"Whist, boys," said Larry, holding up his hand. "We've jist got hold o'

the bullet. It's flattened the least thing, but the size is easy to see. There's a wound over the heart, too, made with a knife; now that's wot I want to get at the bottom of, but I don't like to use me own knife to cut down."

As none of the others felt disposed to lend their knives for such a purpose, they looked at each other in silence.

"Mayhap," said the rough-looking miner who had been hailed by McLeod as Webster--"mayhap the knife o' the corpse is lyin' about."

The suggestion was a happy one. After a few minutes' search the rusty knife of the murdered man was discovered, and with this Larry succeeded in extracting from the wound over the heart of the body a piece of steel, which had evidently been broken off the point of the knife, with which the poor wretch had been slain. Larry held it up with a look of triumph.

"I'll soon shew ye who's the murderer now, boys, av ye'll help me to fill up the grave."

This was speedily accomplished; then the miners, hurrying in silence from the spot, proceeded to the chief hotel of the place, in the gambling-saloon of which they found the man Smith, _alias_ Black Jim, surrounded by gamblers, and sitting on a corner of the monte table watching the game. Larry went up to him at once, and, seizing him by the collar, exclaimed--"I've got ye, have I, ye murderer, ye black villain! Come along wid ye, and git yer desarts--call a coort, boys, an' sot up Judge Lynch."

Instantly the saloon was in an uproar. Smith turned pale as death for a moment, but the blood returned with violence to his brazen forehead; he seized Larry by the throat, and a deadly struggle would speedily have taken place between the two powerful men had not Ned Sinton entered at the moment, and, grasping Smith's arms in his Herculean gripe, rendered him helpless.

"What, comrades," cried Black Jim, with an oath, and looking fiercely round, "will ye see a messmate treated like this? I'm no murderer, an'

I defy any one to prove it."

There was a move among the miners, and a voice was heard to speak of rescuing the prisoner.

"Men," cried Ned, still holding Smith, and looking round upon the crowd, "men--"

"I guess there are no men here," interrupted a Yankee; "we're all _gentlemen_."

"Being a man does not incapacitate one from being a gentleman," said Ned, sharply, with a look of scorn at the speaker, who deemed it advisable to keep silence.

After a moment's pause, he continued--"If this _gentleman_ has done no evil, I and my friends will be answerable to him for what we have done; but my comrade, Larry O'Neil, denounces him as a murderer; and says he can prove it. Surely the law of the mines and fair play demand that he should be tried!"

"Hear! hear! well said. Git up a bonfire, and let's have it out," cried several voices, approvingly.

The miners rushed out, dragging Black Jim along with them to an open level s.p.a.ce in front of the hotel, where stood a solitary oak-tree, from one of whose st.u.r.dy arms several offenders against the laws of the gold-mines had, at various times, swung in expiation of their crimes.

Here an immense fire was kindled, and hither nearly all the miners of the neighbourhood a.s.sembled.