37. CHAPTER XXXVII.
IT was somewhere in the neighborhood of Mono Lake that the
marvellous Whiteman cement mine was supposed to lie. Every
now and then it would be reported that Mr. W. had passed
stealthily through Esmeralda at dead of night, in disguise, and then
we would have a wild excitement—because he must be steering for
his secret mine, and now was the time to follow him. In less than
three hours after daylight all the horses and mules and donkeys in
the vicinity would be bought, hired or stolen, and half the
community would be off for the mountains, following in the wake
of Whiteman. But W. would drift about through the mountain
gorges for days together, in a purposeless sort of way, until the
provisions of the miners ran out, and they would have to go back
home. I have known it reported at eleven at night, in a large
mining camp, that Whiteman had just passed through, and in two
hours the streets, so quiet before, would be swarming with men
and animals. Every individual would be trying to be very secret,
but yet venturing to whisper to just one neighbor that W. had
passed through. And long before daylight—this in the dead of
Winter—the stampede would be complete, the camp deserted, and
the whole population gone chasing after W.
The tradition was that in the early immigration, more than
twenty years ago, three young Germans, brothers, who had
survived an Indian massacre on the Plains, wandered on foot
through the deserts, avoiding all trails and roads, and simply
holding a westerly direction and hoping to find California before
they starved, or died of fatigue. And in a gorge in the mountains
they sat down to rest one day, when one of them
noticed a curious vein of cement running along the ground, shot
full of lumps of dull yellow metal. They saw that it was gold, and
that here was a fortune to be acquired in a single day. The vein
was about as wide as a curbstone, and fully two thirds of it was
pure gold. Every pound of the wonderful cement was worth
well-nigh $200.
Each of the brothers loaded himself with about twenty-five pounds
of it, and then they covered up all traces of the vein, made a rude
drawing of the locality and the principal landmarks in the vicinity,
and started westward again. But troubles thickened about them.
In their wanderings one brother fell and broke his leg, and the
others were obliged to go on and leave him to die in the
wilderness. Another, worn out and starving, gave up by and by,
and laid down to die, but after two or three weeks of incredible
hardships, the third reached the settlements of California
exhausted, sick, and his mind deranged by his sufferings. He had
thrown away all his cement but a few fragments, but these were
sufficient to set everybody wild with excitement. However, he had
had enough of the cement country, and nothing could induce him
to lead a party thither. He was entirely content to work on a farm
for wages. But he gave Whiteman his map, and described the
cement region as well as he could and thus
transferred the curse to that gentleman—for when I had my one
accidental glimpse of Mr. W. in Esmeralda he had been bunting
for the lost mine, in hunger and thirst, poverty and sickness, for
twelve or thirteen years. Some people believed he had found it,
but most people believed he had not. I saw a piece of cement as
large as my fist which was said to have been given to Whiteman by
the young German, and it was of a seductive nature. Lumps of
virgin gold were as thick in it as raisins in a slice of fruit cake.
The privilege of working such a mine one week would be
sufficient for a man of reasonable desires.
A new partner of ours, a Mr. Higbie, knew Whiteman well by
sight, and a friend of ours, a Mr. Van Dorn, was well acquainted
with him, and not only that, but had Whiteman's promise that he
should have a private hint in time to enable him to join the next
cement expedition. Van Dorn had promised to extend the hint to
us. One evening Higbie came in greatly excited, and said he felt
certain he had recognized Whiteman, up town, disguised and in a
pretended state of intoxication. In a little while Van Dorn arrived
and confirmed the news; and so we gathered in our cabin and with
heads close together arranged our plans in impressive
whispers.
We were to leave town quietly, after midnight, in two or three
small parties, so as not to attract attention, and meet at dawon on
the "divide" overlooking Mono Lake, eight or nine miles distant.
We were to make no noise after starting, and not speak above a
whisper under any circumstances. It was believed that for once
Whiteman's presence was unknown in the town and his expedition
unsuspected. Our conclave broke up at nine o'clock, and we set
about our preparation diligently and with profound secrecy. At
eleven o'clock we saddled our horses, hitched them with their long
riatas (or lassos),
and then brought out a side of bacon, a sack of beans,
a small sack of coffee, some sugar, a hundred pounds of flour in
sacks, some tin cups and a coffee pot, frying pan and some few
other necessary articles. All these things were "packed" on the
back of a led horse—and whoever has not been
taught, by a Spanish adept, to pack an animal, let him never hope
to do the thing by natural smartness. That is impossible. Higbie
had had some experience, but was not perfect. He put on the pack
saddle (a thing like a saw-buck), piled the property on it and then
wound a rope all over and about it and under it, "every which
way," taking a hitch in it every now and then, and occasionally
surging back on it till the horse's sides sunk in and he gasped for
breath—but every time the lashings grew tight in one place they
loosened in another. We never did get the load tight all over, but
we got it so that it would do, after a fashion, and then we started,
in single file, close order, and without a word. It was a dark night.
We kept the middle of the road, and proceeded in a slow walk past
the rows of cabins, and whenever a miner came to his door I
trembled for fear the light would shine on us an excite curiosity.
But nothing happened. We began the long winding ascent of the
canyon, toward the "divide," and presently the cabins began to
grow infrequent, and the intervals between them wider and wider,
and then I began to breathe tolerably freely and feel less like a
thief and a murderer. I was in the rear, leading the pack horse. As
the ascent grew steeper he grew proportionately less satisfied with
his cargo, and began to pull back on
his
riata occasionally
and delay progress. My comrades were passing out
of sight in the gloom. I was getting anxious. I coaxed and bullied
the pack horse till I presently got him into a trot, and then the tin
cups and pans strung about his person frightened him and he ran.
His
riata was
wound around the pummel of my saddle, and so, as he went
by he dragged me from my horse and the two animals traveled
briskly on without me. But I was not alone—the loosened cargo
tumbled overboard from the pack horse and fell close to me. It
was abreast of almost the last cabin. A miner came out and
said:
"Hello!"
I was thirty steps from him, and knew he could not see me, it
was so very dark in the shadow of the mountain. So I lay still.
Another head appeared in the light of the cabin
door, and presently the two men walked toward me. They stopped
within ten steps of me, and one said:
St! Listen."
I could not have been in a more distressed state if I had been
escaping justice with a price on my head. Then the miners
appeared to sit down on a boulder, though I could not see them
distinctly enough to be very sure what they did. One said:
"I heard a noise, as plain as I ever heard anything. It seemed to
be about there—"
A stone whizzed by my head. I flattened myself out in the dust
like a postage stamp, and thought to myself if he mended his aim
ever so little he would probably hear another noise. In my heart,
now, I execrated secret expeditions. I promised myself that this
should be my last, though the Sierras were ribbed with cement
veins. Then one of the men said:
"I'll tell you what! Welch knew what he was talking about
when he said he saw Whiteman to-day. I heard horses—that was
the noise. I am going down to Welch's, right away."
They left and I was glad. I did not care whither they went, so
they went. I was willing they should visit Welch, and the sooner
the better.
As soon as they closed their cabin door my comrades emerged
from the gloom; they had caught the horses and were waiting for a
clear coast again. We remounted the cargo on the pack horse and
got under way, and as day broke we reached the "divide" and
joined Van Dorn. Then we journeyed down into the valley of the
Lake, and feeling secure, we halted to cook breakfast, for we were
tired and sleepy and hungry. Three hours later the rest of the
population filed over the "divide" in a long procession, and drifted
off out of sight around the borders of the Lake!
Whether or not my accident had produced this result we never
knew, but at least one thing was certain—the secret was out and
Whiteman would not enter upon a search for the cement mine this
time. We were filled with chagrin.
We held a council and decided to make the best of our
misfortune and enjoy a week's holiday on the borders of the
curious Lake. Mono, it is sometimes called, and sometimes the
"Dead Sea of California." It is one of the strangest freaks of
Nature to be found in any land, but it is hardly ever mentioned in
print and very seldom visited, because it lies away off the usual
routes of travel and besides is so difficult to get at that only men
content to endure the roughest life will consent to take upon
themselves the discomforts of such a trip. On the morning of our
second day, we traveled around to a remote and particularly wild
spot on the borders of the Lake, where a stream of fresh, ice-cold
water entered it from the mountain side, and then we went
regularly into camp. We hired a large boat and two shot-guns from
a lonely ranchman who lived some ten miles further on, and made
ready for comfort and recreation. We soon got thoroughly
acquainted with the Lake and all its peculiarities.