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(^■^£) «> CHARLIE. ilunis.iihl i.:Jit Ihiitcitiii an.i l:ii;ii!y Srvt-n. i'v \\\\\\.\\\ II, i DEDICATION. TO MINNIE, THE WIFE OF OUR HERO, THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, I5Y ITS AUTHORS, MRS. CAROLINE OAKLEY AND WILLIE FERN. m' PREFACE, The within adventures are drciwn from real life, :ind tlie scenes and incidents described are pictured from the memories of its liero. We do not expect the reader v/ill lind our storv perfect, but we hope it will prove interesting. If this result be obtained, our full desire will be gratilied. With its facts and adventures, the Careek or THE Stolen Boy is respectfully offered to the reading world by its authors, MRS. CAROLINE OAKLEY AXD WILLIE FERN. Kti' CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. "Charlie Ross 18 Gone," PAGE. CHAPTER 11. TiiE Burton Family, CHAPTER TTI. The Lost Boy, 22 CHAPTER TV. Charlie and Weston with the Indians, CHAPTER V. The TKArrER's Camp, CHAPTER YT. The Emigrant Train— Death of Weston, CHAPTER YII. Charlie Departs for thk Land of Gold, 36 49 69 81 CHAPTER Yin. Ix THE Gold Mines, 101 vin CONTKNTS. CTlArTKU IX. MeETINO op MoTHEU AM) Son, CIIAITEU X. The Altar and the Tomt., CHAPTER XI. The Death of Old Lekciivein, CHAPTER XII. Charlie's Promise to his Mother, CHAPTER XIII. The Promise Fulfilled, 121 - 144 IGO - 1 1) 180 1^. '4:^' THE Cauc3: 0f the Moltn W^^* CHAPTER I. " I'vo Hocii the colors fadiuj^ From all thut I could prize, Like (lay's 'lepartiiij^ j^lorics I'roiu out the HUHHi't nkicH. And full roughly I have ridden The Htoriiiy ^»1" of life, Ami lout,' years have jiasHed In struggling In bitteruess aud strife." — T. B, Thayer, IIAULIE EOSS IS GOXE! Some- body has stohm Charlie JRoss f' This was tlie exclamatiou of Willie ^'-'■i^S^^^ Crawford as, with hoop and ball '^IS* in hand, he rr.sliCMl into his nioth- t'r''s sittinii'-rooni from his play on tlie street, closely lollowod by ]\rrs. "Ross. "Oh. :?i[rs. Crawfunl \ What shall I do? Sonie- -■•ra J I !; 10 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. body lias carried off my Charlie! W/uit shall I do! What shall I dof' This Mrs. Ross said while wringing her hands and pacing the room in an excited manner. Mrs. Crawford and Mrs. Ross were near neigh- bors, and warm friends : although neither knew anything about the other, except what they had seen, since that day, six months ago, when ^Irs. Ross, a widow with a blue-eyed boy of five years, had rented the cottage in the rear, and settled down as straw sewer for the firm of "Braid and Shepard." Slie was very ladylike in her manners and very reticent in regard to lier past life; and although her neighbors interviewed tlie boy, all they could learn from him was, that ''his father was dead," and that "he had a big brotlicr John wdio lived in Troy with Grandmama." So the}' accepted Mrs. Ross as "one who had seen better days;" and the widow and her little boy soon became great favorites. When Mrs. Ross first sent her little bov to school, she had requested Willie Crawford to take TlIK (ARKKK oF lilE SToJ.EN BUY, ClIAELIE. 11 liiiii under his care; tiiul liiid sewed for both the boys, hats of much liner quality tlian tiiose worn by tJie other boys in the neighborhood. She also possessed a large collection of books, well filled with engravings, over which the boys had spent many haj)py hours. Cha"^: j and Willie were very firm friends, and could almost always be found together. "When Mrs. Crawford had succeeded in calming the distracted mother, she learned from her and Willie, that a well-dressed man, witli a buggy, had ofi'ered to bring Charlie home from school, and ai'ter Charlie had got into the carriage, the man ha advice, coupled with the ho})e that they might aid her in discov^erin«i: her boy, she was induced to write to lier friends and acquaint them with her ^ituation. Her letters brought an immediate response, in the person of a wealthy aunt, who 10. if I! M i 14 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN HOY, CHARLIE. placed every means at work, that wealtli could pro- cure, to find the '" missiiig Charlie." Six months j^assed away, during which, several traces were discovered that seemed to ])romise wtII, but which only ended in disappointment. Once an answer came to the ofler of reward, say- iuix, that "if themonev should be sent to a certain place the boy would be found there.'' Hut id- thou2:h the monev was sent bv a suitable au'ent, no trace of the child ap})eared. The bereaved mother grew thin and pale ; the trouble and suspense was fast wearing out hei- lii'e; and the doctors declared that uidess she had a change of air, and something to take u]) h(?r mind, she must soon die. It was at last decided to take lier to San Francisco, where her brother, the wealthy Dr. Rossimere, had offered her a home. The voyacre by sea. the chanii:inof scenerv, and the new life which opened before her, restored her liealth, and as the years flew bv, she became widely known, as the friend of the poor, and com- forter of the distressed. ■'^,r;M- •M CHAPTER II. "Look not thou upon the wino when it is red, when it givoth his colour n the cup, when it moveth itself ari{,'ht. "At the last it biteth like a aerpeut, and stingeth like au adder." — Prov. 23 : ;U, 32. | j;:;[)-('< )rn discussed ; Joiin Burton, the foster-son, luid rubbed Ids sleepy eyes, and candle in hand, mounted the stairs to the chamber above ; ^[arv IJurtcjn, the fair-haired wife, has mended the last iji^arment in lier work basket and carefully put away her thread, thimble and needles; when ^Eaurice rises with a yawn, and going to the corner cupboard, he pro- du(;es a decanter and glass, with the remark, "I believe that pop-corn has made me thirsty." lie ]>laces the half filled glass to his li})s and drains it, saying, "That is splendid 'Cherry,' Wife! I be- lieve you improve eyerv year on your wines and fancy rums." Ah! you see the serpent coiled amid the flowers of this Eden home. Maurice Burton was one of Kature's noblemen. lie possessed manly beauty, bright intellect, vig- orous health, and a kind heart. lie was known among his neighbors as a model husband, and would have indifi-nantly denied the idea that he could ever become a druiikai'd. And his wife (it was the custom thirty years ag<"») put uj) the cur- ? i M ii ^ 4 " I 18 THE CAREER OF THE STOLKN IJOY, CHARLIE. runt, elderberry, and blackberry wines, and ]->re- })ared boxberry rum and elierry rum, without a thought that she was spreading a snare for lier husband and furnishing the means to wreck her whole life. Three years have passed away, bringing many sad changes ; and the happy lionu^ life of the Bur- tons has become a thing of the past. In a small tenement containing two rooms, neatly, but plainly furnished, we find Mary Burton and her Charlie, now a bright-eyed boy of four summers. The serpent which she nursed in her home lias grown to a " hydra-lieadcd " monster, destroying her happiness, and nearly crushing out her own life. Yes, Maurice Burton, the man she had once so proudly called "my husband," is now a lost, degraded drunkard, w^orking only to gratify his in- sane thirst for the maddening drink, finding a shel- ter where he may. Slowly and imperceptibly, the dreadful appetite had been formed, and neither husband or wife was aware of the dan<2:er until too late to crush it. I f THE CARKEK OF THE STOLEN IJOY, CIIAUME. 19 own once lost, lis in- sliel- betite Li was When the dreiidfiil tact became apparent to Mary liurton that lier husband was really a drunkard, she was at first angry at the disgrace, and by her coldness and angry words, drove him more and more from his home, until at last ne was discharged from work, and the whole burden of the family fell upon the delicate wonnin all unused to such a posi- tion. Naturally proud-spirited, she felt the dis- grace of her situation keenly ; her disposition that liad been sunny, grew sour ; and the home which had been so happy, soon became one of entire misery, to all but the child too 3'oung to know its bitterness. At last the disappointed and despairing wife sued lor, and obtained a divorce, the Judge giving her the custody of the boy. The divided home no longer furnished a pleasant abiding-})laco for the ''foster-son," John Burton, and li(i found a home with his father's sister; which was also the homo of Maurice Burton's mother; and ihey, the mother and sister, sympathized with the ruined husband, and were inclined to blame f f if ' ! 20 THE CAKKKU OF TIIK NroI-KN l)n\, I'llAKI.Ii:. the (livurcod witb I'or imt cliuiiliin" to her luisbaiul in ]n^ (U'ii'raded con(liti(»n. Tliis lioiiii' t'uniisliod blicltcr to Maurice llurtoii, when at rare intervals he was sober ; and sometimes he wouUl sta«j;ger to this refuge, wlien tlic shops whieh furnished him poison, and sometimes food in return for hibor per- formed, could use him no longer. At such times, when the nuidncss had passed tuvay, the mother and sister would pleiid with him to mend his ways, and he would pronuse to re- form ; and sometimes kept the promise nearly three months ; but the appetite that had been so h)ng in- duli-'cd would always ijrain the victory. It was on one of these occasit)ns, that Maurice Burton left his sister's home, to search for em- ployment, lie had kept sober for two montlis, and that morning in response to tlie earnest counsel of his mother and sister, liad promised that ho would never touch another drop. He had an- nounced his intention of seeking work among the neighboring farmers, pronusing his sister that when lie obtained work, he would send her ^yord. His mother was very sure that he would keep f ■t I I THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN HOY, CHARLIE. 21 liis proniisc^ to rct'orni tliis tiino. It could never !)(' tliat licr boy would die ii druidvard. " His father, ' the Doctor,' was sucli ;i nice nuiu ; and then Maurice was alwavs sucli a nice, smart boy. If he had oidv had a different wife, he would have made a better man." When a week had passed, witliout hearin. i til '%*»., * THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 25 " AVdl, you're just the iium I want. Couio in, Stniiio-er, and if you can work half as well as you can talk, I will find you plenty to do in the niorn- 5? Maurice was furnished with a good sup])er, and conif(jrtable bed ; he awoke quite refreshed, and before nig-litfall, he had convinced his employer that he wasjast the man he wanted^ and was en- gaged at liberal wages for the rest of the season. The first two weeks, he found himself too tired each night to write to liis mother and sister ; and then an event occurred which prevented their ever meeting again in this world. The popular paper of the county came every week to the farmhouse ; and Mr. Forrest (that was the farmer's name) usually read the news aloud, while his wife darned the stockings, the bovs ate ap])les, and the farm hands dozed in their chairs, or stretched at full length on the kitchen floor. The j)aper had been brought from the mail on Thursday evening of the second week since Mau- rice's a})pearance at the farmhouse, and the read- ing was progressing as usual ; Maurice was seated n i I i W i^ i * 1 r \ \ \ : U' u 26 THE cari-:i:r of the siolen boy, ciiai:i.ik. with his legs astride a flag-bottom chair, his anus resting on the buck, and his head resting on his hands; not listening to the reading, but trying to determine how to shape his future life. Suddeidy a name arrested his attention, and cansed him to listen intently to the end of the paragraph. "FOUND DROWNED. "Monday morning a body was washed ashore near Union Tavern, on the Troy turnpike, and was identified by the clothes as the last remains of Mauriee Burton, who disappeared from his home about a week ago. Burton was a drinking man, and was last seen near the tavern. It is supposed that he must have fallen into the river while druidc. Tlie body was claimed and buried by his sister, Mrs, Vinci'nt, of Troy," Tlie paragra])h was finished, and commented upon by different members of the family, and the reader i)assed on to otiier subjects. The current of Maurice's thoughts was changed. If he was ah'eady dead to his friends, tlien he would never undeceive them, until he covdd go back a man tliey would be proud to know. The ''California gold fever" was at its heiglit. AVliy not go to the ''gold diggings?" He had good abilities, and could easily work his way there. Then came the thought of his boy; dinvn deep i^ t I TIIK CAKKKIi OF TIIK !^T(iTK.\ BoV, CHARLIE. -< ill this iiuui's heart was Ji toiuU'r love for the cliild who luid oiiee been his idol; and the bitterest hour of his lite had been when the divorce obtained bv his wife, had taken i'roni him his little Charlie. "When under the influence of liquor, he had never been abusive to the child ; and after the di- vorce, he had often sought the little loy at his play in the backyard, and given him cakes or candy. In his mind now, there was a vivid picture of the little boy as he had seen him about two months before ; the little curly head leaning far over the well curb, looking vainly for the hat he had lost in the depths below. His father had fished out the lost hat, and sent him to his mother with it; and this w^as the last time they had met. "If I only had the boy to take with me." ''Are you asleep, Maurice ? " It was Tim Jones, his room-mate. Mr. Forrest had iinished reading, and was locking up for the niglit ; this was a well understood signal for all hands to go to bed. Mau- rice wTut to his room and to bed, but not to sleep ; and when the morniiii;- dawned, his plans for the future were all fonncil. i ' tl ri ^1 ■ I ?! i! 28 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN JJOY, CllAKLIK. When the funning season closed, ^VFauriee liad quite a sum of money in liis pocket. ]\Ir, Forrest would have ke])t him throug'h the winter, for ho was an excellent blacksmith, and there \v;is a f )rge on the farm; but he declined to remain, saying he was anxious to return to his friends. He had changed verv nnicli in a])])earance since he left his sister's home. The sun had browned his usually pale cheek, and he had allowed his beard and mustache to grow, so his mother believing him dead, would not have recognized him on the street. The thriving citv of B was only f )ur miles distant from Mr. Forrest's farm ; and thither Mau- rice bent his footsteps on leaving the farmhouse. So many men had left their homes for the '' Land of Gold," that he found no difficulty in obtaining a chance to work his passage on the steamboat ply- ing between B and Troy ; and one of the deck hands falUng sick, he was asked to take his place. Finding that the boat would remain over night in Troy, he immediately accepted the situation ; and found that he had ])lenty of time to reconnoitre the scenes of his former life. I THE CAREER OF THE ST(tLKN DoY. CHARLIE. 29 lie soon Iciirncd tluit his wile and son IkuI left. the cit)', and that their wliereaboiits was unknown ; but Ids knowledge of her chai-acter pointed out to him the place in which slie would be the most likely to take refuge. When his job on the boat was finished, he sought and obtained work as a blacksnuth i/i the city of P . When the maples were putting forth their leaves, Maurice Burton's plans had reached maturity, lie had nursed the idea that he had as good a right to his boy as the chiUrs mother had, until any means of obtaining him seemed right to his mind. lie gave no thought to the anguish his loss would cause him, but dwxdt only on the ])leasure of hav- ing him constantly by his side, and teaching him to love him alone. Tie had kept the last pronuse he ever made his mother faithfully ; and had hoarded every cent of his wages, not necessary for food or clothes, with a ndser\s care ; some of the time he had worked over hours enough to pay his board bill. lie gave his n(^tice at tlie slutp, saying that he was inteiidinii' to start f»r California; and s(^nie of 'f' ?iO 'i-lIK CAKKKK OF 'liii: SToI.KN JJo\\ (ilAlM.li:. ■I \t Si; ■I 't 1 i A liis sli<)])-injitc's ovc'ii suw liiiu uboard of tlic cars that connected with the " Sound Steamers,'"' and bade liim good bye, wisliing liini good luck. l>ut none of tlieni knew that he left the train at the lirst stati id took at a third-class hotel, room where, witti the aiu ot a pair of scissors and razor, he altered his a])pearance very mucli. Over-work liad paled his sun-browned face ; and when the barber had cut and combed his hair to suit liim, he looked very much like the Maurice Burton of other davs. lie paid his bill at the hotel, and hired a liorse and buiri2:y at a stable to take him back to the citv. We have seen tliat he found no difficulty in induc- ing Charlie to ride home from school with him. The little boy had never seen a dead ])erson, and never been to a funeral; and when he had been told that his father was dead, it conveyed no other imi^ression to his mind than that he had gone awav somewhere : so it did not seem at all stranii'e to have the man who had given him candy and cakes the vear before olfer to brin<>; him home from school. :•', I THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN JioY, CHARLIE. 31 The proposed ride uronnd the scjiiure furnished a plea for drivi]ioy " in the very cirs "wliere Maurice traveled ; but no one hearhig the sound, suspected that the light-haired boy, sleep- ing so sweetly in his father's arms, was the " Kid- napped Charlie " of whom a whole city was at that moment thinking — conjecturing various theories for tlie cause oi' his abduction, but never guessing the truth. And his motlier wetting her pillow with tears, and in her sleepless agony picturing her " lost boy " in all manner of painful situa- tions ; but never for a moment thinking of him as sleeping in the arms of love. Two wrecks after the abduction found Maurice and his child at the terminus of railway travel in the Xorthwest ; and after three days by stage, he left the main road, to seek the abode of a man of whom he had heard in one of the stages by which he had traveled. It was told that this man, wlio was known as the "Squatter," lived all alone in a little cabin in the wilderness ; and Maurice, finding his money nearly all gone, and himself and Cliar- 1 ie verv much in neec d of rest, had resolved to ask this "lone hermit" for shelter for a few davs. \t I -I )l,. 'y M,, ::fl ' I ;ii i '^^ I ''I i i:'i o-t THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN liOY. CHAIJIJE. He found tlie cabin, after nearly a day's Journey on foot, during wliicb he cjirried Charlie a great part of the way in hi.s arms or on his shoulders. The hermit, whose name was Arthur AVeston, gave the tired num ])ermission to remain with him for a few days ; and Maurice and his little boy re- tired early to the bed of dried grass, which was the best his host had to offer. After his night's rest he found himself too sick to leave his bed. He had told Weston the niiiht before that his wife was dead, and that he intended to travel on, with his little boy, until he reached the "Land of Gold." AVith rest after the tire- some journey, came reaction and lassitude; from the loss of his whiskers a severe cold had been taken ; this had been neglected, until a hacking cough had set in ; congestion of the lungs fol- lowed ; and for two weeks Maurice was unable to help himself in the least. But Weston, although a very rough and lawless man, cared for him as tenderly as a woman might ; and quite w'on the heart of the blue-eyed Charlie, by the flowers and berries that he brought for his amusement ; for the A 'i THE CAIUiER OK THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. .35 cliild very rarely hh tlio bedside of liis father, ex- cept to eat liis meals. When the brirrht days of June appeared, Mau- rice was able to walk out a little, but his stren-rth never came back. The hacking cough continued, and when September winds began to whistle around the cabin, a grave was dug under the big " cotton- wood," and there Arthur Weston buried the bro- ken-hearted man whose early promise of a noble life had been quenched by ''the liarmless glass of home-made lolne.''^ "As rkrhteousn.'SH tomk'th to lifo: so he that pursueth evil pursueth it to his own death."— Prov. 11: 19. "^^^S^^^i If •r. i; '^^^ %^ '^^.^^k^XTi^a^^^^ ^r<^^7-rr CHAPTER IV. •' And oft though wlRdom wako, HUHplcion filcepB At wiHilom'H giiti', iind to HiiiijiliiMty Ilc'Hif^iis her churj^c, while goodueas thiuks uo ill Where uo ill hcoiuh." -Milton. 1 ii URI2sG the lust illness of Miiurlce Burton, Artluir AV^eston bad given him Jill the cure and conifort lluit <&X^^'^-^?^ was in his i)ower to bestow, and *i^ the dying man had confided to him the whole sad story of his wrecked HI;', and en- treated him to restore the "Stolen Boy" to bis mother, if it should ever be possible. ThisAVeston readily promised to do, but mentally resolved that it should never be possible*; for although ]\Iaurice had confided in him without reserve, he knew nothing about him except that he had been kind to him in his great extremity — yet these two men had met before. *, THE CARKEK OF THE STOLEN BOY, CIIAI4LIE. 37 TcMi years before the opening of our story, tlie l)retty Mury llossinicre liud nuiny suitors ; tor a long time lier ])reference seemed to be equaJly di- vided between two ; for lier family })referred the ^u)n of the wholesale li(|uor dealer; and her heart chose JMauriet! Jhn-ton, the machinist. She at last decided the question by accepting Maurice Burton ; and from that time very little notice was taken of her, by her family, until the abduction of her boy led her to appeal to them for helj), which brought out their ready sympathy in her behalf. ]\Ieanwhile her discarded suitor, who had always been known as a fast young man, grew more wild and reckless in his habits. The failure of his father in business, forced him to rely on his own labor for support. lie had never been taught to "work, and he now thought himself too old to learn a trade ; and his past habits made him unable to obtain a clerkship; so the only place that seemed open to him was behind a bar. Here he sunk rap- idly, and one year before our story o])ens, he fled from justice, carrying with him the proceeds of a successful bui'glary. *, 9 ',* If, i 'v! ■, >A i' ; ■*4 ' |;;i^' 38 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BUY, CHARLIE. lie liud found no place safe from the "eye of llie law," except the wilds of frontier life; here he found a "squatter" anxious to sell his cabin and stock at a low figure, that he might emigrate far- ther west. He had made the purchase, and since tiien dwelt in security, as far as the law was con- cerned, but leading a very lonely life. The coining of Maurice and little Charlie to his home, had been a pleasant break in its monotony; and when the poor man grew conlidential, the story that he told filled the heart of his listener with pleasure. The woman who had discarded him for another, had not found happiness with the husband of her choice; and I'ow it was in his power to withhold her dearest earthly treasure. The joy he felt at this thought, nuiy have added to the tender- ness with which he nursed the dying man, for he liad been the means of placing this revenge in his way. Charlie felt the loss of his father bitterlv, and every day he would beg to be taken to " Manui ; '' but his new guardian put him off with the ])lea, that he could not go until after the harvest. And I 1 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 39 as he really tried to make the little cabin as pleas- ant as possible to the fatherless boy, the little fel- low soon ceased to plead "to go to Mama," wait- ing with heroic patience for the harvest to end. And while Charlie was patiently waiting for the end of the harvest, his heart-broken mother and her friends were asking each other what should be done next ; every means had been tried, but not a single clue had led to anything but disappoint- ment. We might drop a fish into the ocean, and the most diligent search might fail to find it again ; so although it was well known that Charlie went away with a man in a buggy, all further trace of him seemed as efi'ectually lost, as though the earth opened and swallowed him up. Those readers of these pages, who have traveled over thinly settled districts, and through new and wild country, can easily judge how little prospect there was of Charlie ever being restored to his mother, except his guardian should so will it. When the produce was all gathered, and Weston began to get ready for "market," Charlie was 11 I t 1 1 k m m ] !'''' = ' I' im It '^ 1 1'. i i•:■.^ i« . ! I* li' ' It/ < 40 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. nearly wild witli delight, and could scarcely wait for the morning of the day on which they were to start. Tlie load was to be carried in a lumber wagon, drawn by two yoke of oxen; and a "nest" was made for the little boy in one corner, and fur- nished with a buftalo robe and a blanket. The lirst day passed very pleasantly to the eager child. The late autumn Howers, the singnig birds, and squirrels which he sometimes left the team to chase, all ministered to the pleasure of his ride. Ilis heart was light for he thought he was going home. lie had traveled so fast away from his home, that he did not realize that it would take weeks to get back again. The second day was more monotonous ; he seemed to have lost his interest in the squirrels, and renuiiucd all day curled up in his buffalo robe. The third morning he awoke flushed and unre- frcshed ; and it soon became evident to Weston, that the child was sick, and that he would have to leave him at an Iiulian village, whicli was about four miles from the ''trading ixjst;'' and with whose inhabitants he was somewhat acc|uainted. \ ;! ) I *■ tup: cakker of the stolen boy, ciiarlie. 41 He had been able to render some assistance to the tribe, and they seemed very friendly towards him. And they readily consented to take care of the boy, while he finished his jom-ney. Charlie was very unwilling to be left behind, but when Weston told him that "he would surely die, and never see his mother, if he did not remain," he vielded at once. One of the Indian women took the boy under especial care, and by her skill- ful nursing succeeded in breaking up the fever with which he seemed to be threatened. It took Weston two days to transact his busi- ness at the "trading post," and it was not until the evening of the third, that he reached the Indian village, where they urged him to renuiin all nicrht. He had brought them liberal gifts of am- munition and tobacco, and could tell them consid- erable news from the outside world. To Charlie he brought the intelligence that he had written to his mother; and he i)romised to ride over on the '^pony" in a week to get his answer. When the Indians found that their visitor intended to return in a week, they offered to keep \ .tb 1 M B.'^ .>?■ I' I ! 1. '•! -. 1 ► \ > : I I'-h h 1 i/ ' i? ,1' l!l f 1 1' [H ii *ii i 4 i J f^ V 1 i 1 \ i ^'f v t 1 42 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. the child, who was really unfit to travel ; and Charlie, feeling that he was so nmch nearer lionic, begged to remain. On finding that the child had not told anything about himself, and obtaining from him a promise that he would say nothing about his past life, he concluded to leave him. In four days he was back again, with his ox team and supplies; stating, that "he had found his cabin a smoking ruin ; and that his pony and all his farming tools liad disappeared." The place had probably been plundered and burned by some rovinti* band of Indians. The friendlv Indians nuide room for him in one of their wigwams ; and he gave them the load of supplies he had brought for his own use. Charlie soon regained his strength ; and his Indian imrse made for him a suit of buckskin, as a token of her love, which pleased the child veiy much ; for his clothes were becoming very thin and worn. xA-fter four days Weston again departed for the "trading post," telling Charlie he would bring him news from his mother, before the sun set. ■I''i^ :,# I THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 43 Just at nightfall, lie returned to the village in great haste, and informed his friends, the Indians, that he had received news that would compel him to go ''West" at once, lie had purchased a light wagon at his first visit to the "trading post," and obtaining a horse from the Indians in exchange for liis oxen, he and Charhe left the same evening after his hasty return. The setting sun had le'ft only the gray twilight to mark its last ray, and the moon like a ball of fire appeared in the eastern sky, when they started on their all night journey. The air was mild, for although December had come. Winter seemed loth to put in an appearance ; and the moon glistening through the groves of timber, refiected a landscape impossible to represent with pen pr pencil. Leaves tinted with shades that art cannot produce, and varnished with dew, glistened on every side, and seemed to the child's imagination to be a scene in fairy land. The boy had been very much disappointed at net hearing from "Mama," but he made no oppo- sition to going with Weston, and as the horse flew .# ! 1 't 1 '1 1- ^: 1 ! X 1' i 'I ■; 'M- it h i'l ii I 'I It' : ? Hi 't i I'll )' i tj; jr* 44 THE CAREER OF TUE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. over the lonely road, lie evinced considerable inter- est in the constellations, which the man took pains to point out to him. In a short time the child toll asleej); and cradled in his guardian's arms, passed the night on the road. "While Arthur Weston was at the "trading post," disposing of his farm produce, he chanced upon an old paper in which he read the offer of the large reward for the ''missing Charlie." He knew, he had only to deliver up the boy and claim the reward ; but then the officers of the law might want him also ; and he did not like to jnirt with the boy ; he had grown fond of him, and he did not wish to restore him to the mother, whom he fancied had wronged him. lie had grown tired of farming ; with the promised reward, he might go to some western city and begin life anew. The result of his reasoning was, the letter which awcjke hope in the heart of Mary Jhirton, only to end in the bitterest disappointment. When he had found his cabin burned, the loss of it did not distress him much, for he had deter- mined to claim the reward ; and " if he could not ilii fi' THE CAKEER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CIIAKI.IE. 45 sell his 'tract,' he would give it to his Iiidiiui friends." "When he arrived at the "trading post" to look for an answer to his letter, he gave his horse to the stable-boy, at the only tavern the place afforded, and was proceeding towards the post office, when the sound of a name uttered by a fandliar voice attracted his attention. Two men were seated under a shed that he w^as passing, con- versing in low tones, and their subject was the "missing Charlie." It was this name which had arrested his attention, and the familiar voice was that of an old schoolmate, that had once been his warm friend ; but now a wide chasm yawned be- tween them — AYeston was a fugitive from justice — his schoolmate, a well-known detective from the " States." Weston forgot that frontier life had changed his looks so much that his own mother would not have known him; or that the half Indian suit he wore might have formed a sufficient dis- guise. Here was danger for him, he thought, and hurrying back to the stable, he paid the boy for his horse's dinner, and rode away at a rapid gait, i V 11 :H (111 n1 •if v:v 1 4G TIIK CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CIIAULIE. never pausing to look beliind, nor cheeking:; the S])eed of liis liorse until lie reached the Indiiin vil- lu^re, where we have seen he onlv tarried lonir enough to procure a fresh horse, and equip Char- lie and himself for their night ride, before he started again in his flight. Their travels led them over mountains covered wntli tall trees, through forests filled with all kinds of game, and along the banks of streams of pure, clear water, from which, with hook and line, they often obtained their supper or breakfast. We are apt to find our minds well occupied W'hen visiting new scenes, and traveling over nevv' and wild country; so Charlie soon became inter- ested in the journey, and ceased to wonder when thev would start for the "East." They continued this mode of life for twT) weeks, sometimes finding shelter in a deserted hunter's cabin, tarrying one night with a wandering band of Gypsies, and resting at last at an Indian village, where he procured a "guide" to show him the most direct route to some frontier settlement. The only object of this wild liight was to baffie I ';A; TliK (JAKK1:R of the STOLKN 1{()V, LIlAlii.lE. 47 all search that iiiiglit be made for him — a search tliat never was made — so truly, ''The wicked llee when no man pursueth." Their guide led them over a more public road, sometimes passing the cabin of some hardy set- tler, occasionally meeting bands of roving Indians, who suifcred them to pass unmolested, for their guide was well-known, and his presence protected them. The further they traveled, the more savage they found the tribes, whose villages tliey passed ; but Weston made the Chief of eacli a present of some trinket, which won his friendship. At one time, a curiously wrought powder flask, answered this purpose ; at another, a money belt, which once contained a "thousand in gold;" and the third and last, was a small magnifying glass, which he had given to Charlie to amuse himself with, and w^hicli the child gave up, in return for their iiight's lodging at one Indian village. The child seemed to win the love of all he met ; and their guide grew fond of him, and taught him to use the bow and arrow, w4th which he soon became quite expert. 1^1 )l <1, ■ \\ 48 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN liOY, CHARLIE. They now approached the banks of ti river which tliey woiihl have to descend to continue tlieir jour- ney, and liere they parted from their Indian guide, wlio left them to return to his people, carrying with him one of Charlie's golden curls. v-iH \\di\ : : 1 J ' : ! i ';;•!! li!: vi I- J ■li';. CHAPTER V. " Nearer and over nearer, among the luimberlesR islautlH, Darted a liKhN swift bout, that Hped away o'er the water, Urged ou its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and trappers." — Longfellow's " Evangeline." IIAELIE and Weston did not liave lonii: to wait at the "Indian agen- cy," where they had parted with their guide, before the welcome sound of oars, tokl them that a boat was approacliing. Tliey had found no ditH- culty in disposing of the horse and carriage; and this gave them something to pay their traveUng expenses with. AVeston had taught tlie child to call him "uncle," nnd by this name we shall henceforth know him. It was necessary that Charlie and his uncle diould seek a home for the winter without delay: 50 THE CAREER UF THE STOLEN RoY, CHARIJK. / I • ■>• m lUr, HU and lunong the " triippcrs" gathered at tlie ngencv, they found one wlio was quite willing to pilot them to a selected spot long known to him. A store of provisions, ammunition, guns, traps, etc., was packed in the canoe — for a hunter and trai)})er always prepares for a six months' stay — and our three travelers embarked on their journey. It was nearly noon when they started from the agency; and the river glistened in the sunlight like a broad stream of silver; and as the canoe glides smoothly over the water, there seems nothing to mar the pleasure of their voyage. Charlie amused himself for awhile with fishinii'. and watching the changing scenery as they glided by it ; but when there was nothing but the river and the dull drab prairie to look upon, he became weary, and curling up on the pile of blankets, fell asleep. The "trapper," being familiar with the stream. related anecdotes and adventures of his experience in former years, until Weston became deeply inter- ested, and quite a friendship seemed to be estab- lished between the two men. "VVeston grew conti- ■i>: THE CAUKKU Ol" TIIK STOLLN UOY, CHARLIE. 51 dential, und luld the trapper of the burning of his cabin, adding that his sister, tlie boy's mother, li:id j)erislied in the flames ; and he had rescued tlie eliihl from tlie murderous Indians, and escaped willi liim. This story the trapper was eq^sily made to believe; and seeing Charlie dressed in a fine made buekskin suit, with beaded moccasins and feathered cap, and the bow and arrows wliich lie used so exi)ertly, all helped to make the story seem real. "They eamo from Tall Bull's Band," thought he; and his sympathy was gained, which was all that Weston wished. The trapper had planned for a winter's hunt, and he had invited Charlie's uncle to share it with liim, an offer which he readily accepted. Our travelers did not find smooth sailing all of the time, und when the roughness of the journey awoke Cliai'lie, he turned to fishing again for amusement, and before night, hikd taken some very fine trout. That night they camped on the banks of the river, and feasted on jerked venison, corn-meal mush, and coffee, with hot slapjacks, as the trap- per called his bread, baked in a frying pan Wild I., r.i i ! ! (I I i ■ ■il ti n 52 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. honey abounds in these for'^sts, and our trapper friend knew liow to find it, so Charlie was suppHed with plenty of honey for liis supper. When their evening meal was finished, our little party retired early to rest ; and sunrise found them much refreshed, while the morning air, bracing and chilly, gave them good appetites for their breakfast. Breakfast over, the camp utensils stowed away in the canoe, and they are sailing down river again. Three days' journey brings their canoe ride to an end, for they have reached the hunting giound — the trapper's kingdom. "Rough country this, but full of game," said the trapper. "Yes, and quite secluded," replied Weston. A log hut with a large fireplace, and mud chinked walls and chimney, was to be their shel- ter fur the winter — their home — and it was vtn'y acceptable to the wandering refugee, who was to share its hospitality. The new life had now fairly begun ; and for a few days the romance of the situation was very pleasing to Charlie and his uncle ; but soon grew THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 53 said monotonous and wearisome to the child, who often had to share its solitude alone. AVeston found both employment and pleasure in the excitement of hunting ; and this business had for years taken the place of home and friends with the trapper. Cliarlie soon learned to make traps for himself, which he sot not far from the cabin, and caught squirrels, birds, rabbits, and otlior small game. This anmsement, and his bow and arrows, gave him much pleasure, and served to while away the many hours in which he was left all alone. The rapidly changing scenes in his forc^^^'l jour- ney had dulled the memory of his early home ; and of his father's death, and the storv he had heard then, lingered in his mind only as a dream. We shudder at the very thought of being left alone in a hut, liundreds of miles away from any settlement, but Charlie seems to feel no fenr, and spends part of his time under "the grand oid live maple,'' where the trapper has built a rustic seat, making traps with a jack-knife which his uncle bought for him at the agency. As he whittles away at his "figure-four " traps, for pigeons, par- I ■if! pi IP Ji; ■ My 54 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. tridges, quails, or other unlucky intruder that trusts his bait, he forgets the loneliness of his sur- roundings, and breaks forth in a happy song ; and the little birds which still tarry in their northern home, alight on the leafless branches, and join his concert. What a change has been wrought in the pale- faced boy, whom we have seen traveling with his father, now far away from the haunts of civiliza- tit)n ; his golden curls have been shorn, and liis fringed pants, beaded moccasins, and sun-bnjwned face make him appear like a true Indian. From his journey and mode of living, he has gained robust health ; and he has grown into this wild, lonely life so gradually, that it has now no terrors for him. The old log hut or cabin contains one room, which serves all purposes ; it has a clay floor and board windows, wdiich slide back and forth to ad- mit the light. A table made of split slabs, and solid in every respect, stands on a frame, set with posts in the ground. The stold live maple," he draws his little stool beside the fire, and regales himself with a bunch of 'M^ t, I Inf. V. li .ii il: 'I !i 56 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. ''johnny cake" and honey, which his trapper friend always has on hand : and as this feast usually leaves him sleepy, he generally curls up in the buffalo robes and sleeps for an hour or two, which causes him to have bright eyes and open ears, when the trapper repeats his tales of wild ad- venture to his companion, CharUe's uncle, beside the lire, in the evening. The boy stands in the doorway or at the open window to watch his traps, and at one time he caught a pigeon, which lie thought so very pretty, that he greatly desired to keep it alive ; so ho placed it in a basket, and tied one of liis uncle's red handkerchiefs over it, until the return of tlio two men from their liunt, and that night the trap- per built for him a little cage, in which he kept his bird until it became so tame that it would eat from his hand, and follow him around the cabin. ; and in his hours of loneliness, when his little heart 'seemed full of homesick longings, he would ])lace the bird upon his shoulder, and tell it about " Mama, John, and Grandma;" and the pigeon would gently peck at his cheek with its bill, and ^'coo," as THE CAREER OF TUE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. Oi if in loving sympathy with its little master's sorrows. About half a mile from the cabin, the Eed River- of-the-North gleams like patches of silver through the trees; and sometimes the child wanders down to its banks, and as he watches the flowing stream, he lannches little rafts uj^on the waters, and tells himself that "when he grows big, he will bnild a canoe, and sail down the stream to find ]\rama." The two hunters usually returned at night, well ladened with game, and highly pleased with their success ; and in the course of an hour a smokinji' supper of fried birds or rabbits and corn-meal bread attested the trapper's skill as a cook; and was eaten by the two hungry men with a great relish. The winter thus far had been unusually mild, but the second week of their sojourn in the wilder ness, there came a light fall of snow, covering the ground witli a pure white carpet, about three inches dee]); and furnishing our hero with amusement for se^•eral days ; for out of this material he built a tiny fort, and stormed it with white cannon balls. lie also built a snow man, and finally rolled up a < I 58 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. I m iui li li- very large ball of snow under the ''live maple,'' wliere it remained all winter, and served as a target for his arrows, when other amusement failed. To the trapper, also, the snow was welcome, for on it he could the more easily track deers. Heavy frosts followed the fall of snow, and all things were soon in the grasp of "King Winter," while fierce storms and hii>-h winds often rocked the log cabin as though they would lift it from its toundutions. And there came davs so intcnselv cold, that the inmates of the cabin hovered over the blazing lire, and sought no other employment than that of keeping themselves warm. On the davs when the storms were too fierce for them to go out, the hunters passed their time in curing the skins and furs they had already ob- tained ; and which the trapper expected to dispose of in the spring at the Indian agency, where we first met liiuL The evenings were often spent in teaching Charlie geograpliy and arithmetic, the instruction being ctmveyed orally for want of books, and the stone hearth and a piece of charcoal being f THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE 5: f Mi live there ajzain — my ho nie IS he re. 11 ove that boy as though he was my own, and when I go where they do such tilings, I will have the writ- ings drawn up to place it in his possession after motl ler s death 11 At the time when Weston was plotting to obtain possession of the trapper's farm, the city author- ities were trying to buy the land of his mother fur building lots. The owner could not be found ; he had been advertised for, but he came not, and his mother was urged to believe him dead, and to sell the farm for a sum that would make her verv wealthy, but she steadily refused. "Her son would return some day, and the property was not hers." So the farm remained undisturbed in the suburbs of a large and tlourishing city. Many hunting expeditions had been carried out shice the trio came to the cabin, and a large num- ber of mink, otter, sable, and martin skins had been obtained and cured, besides the hides of laro-er animals. Charlie had caught foxes enough to obtain a suit of clothes from their skins; these the trapper had •s,.- 'MSfc THK CAUKER OF THE STOLEN UUY, CHARLIE. 03 helped liiiii cure, and with the ready skill which conies from having to depend entirely on our- selves, hud cut and made them into a warm and comfortable suit. When the extreme cold confined the boy nearly all of the time to the house, the days were very long and wearisome. But his friend, the trapper, kept him supplied with some new curiosit}^ in the shape of home-made toys. Wooden chairs, puz- zles, and a miniature menagerie, following each other as fast as the child became tired of them ; these were the work of the jack-knife, and were made while Weston was pacing the floor with his hands in his pockets, and wishing that spring would come. The man was becoming tired of his secluded life, and was laying plans to get away from it. One morning the two men, accompanied by the d'>g, and armed with their trusty rifles, started out i'or a day's hunt. The air was cool and bracing, and they wended their way into the depths of the forest, breaking a path through the snow, the trap- per leading the way with his usual sturdy stride. .■■1 11 CA TIIK CAKKKR OF THE STOLEN BOY, CIIAKLIE. Tliev liiid waiuk'i'cd nearly four miles from the cabin without seeing any tracks, or starting- any game, when suddenly the dog gave a snuiF at the air, and a short quick bark, and the next moment they ca!ue in sight of a panther, who was crunch- ing the bones of a deer beside a fallen tree. The trapper immediately took aim at the beast with his ritle, and Weston's gun was leveled ready to lire also. Bang went the trapper's gun, and M'ith a cry like that of a wounded child, the pan- ther sprang several feet in the air; but the shot liad not taken effect in any vital part, and as the enraged animal reached the ground he made a sav^- age spring at his assailants. At this moment Weston lired, but his shot went wide of its mark, and lodged in the fallen tree. The dog had sprung uj)on the panther, but the animal had shaken him otr, and as the trapper was in the act of tiring the second time, he sprang upon his left shoulder and hip, knocking the gun from his hands, and drag- ging him down to the snow. Weston had re- loaded, but he dared not fire, lest he should shoot his companion. The trapper had drawn his knife, :^- THE CARKKR OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 05 I and was cutting his encuny vigorously, but ho seemed unublo to reach his heart. "Shoot, lie will kill me," he cried, and this time AVeston's rifle did good service, for the bul- let passed through the panther's heart, and the jininud fell dead at their feet. The trapper was badly wounded, and the blood flowed freely from the dee}) wounds made by the panther's sharp claws and teeth. Four miles was a long distance for a wounded man to travel ; but there was no shelter any nearer, and after his companion had bound up his wounds with handkerchiefs, the trap- per, leaning upon Weston's arm, nuide all haste to reach the cabin ; but after two miles had been passed over, he grew too w^eak to walk, and Weston was obliged to throw aside the guns, and carry him part of the time upon his back. The weary miles wxM-e passed at last, and the trapper reached the cabui in a fainting condition. Here AYeston gave him a drink of liquor, and then proceeded to dress his wounds, in which he was greatly assisted bv Charlie. The trapper's wounds proved very serious, and ( 1 fl 1 M §>.■'. w G(j THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY. OHAKLIK. the fe\ or, wliicli liis long journey home created, kept him confined to liis cabin several weeks, so that when he was able to be out again, spring had come, and they began to make preparations for visiting the agency. They built a large canoe, for they had a double lot of skins to dispose of, and wlien all their arrangements were made, Charlie and the two men went up the river with their load of skins and furs; and the deed was executed, which gave the farm to Charlie, after the death of the trapper's mother. The instrument was duly signed and recorded and given to Weston, who was named as the guardian of the boy. The trap- per then took leave of Charlie and his uncle ; bid- (Ihig the child good-bye with a fond embrace and rather moist eyes ; for they had engaged passage ill a boat bound for a station on the river, from which by stage they could reacli the line of railway travel. Weston had told the trapper that he wislied to go where he could send Cliarlie to school, and that he would go to Des Moines and " look up the ohl hidy," and send him word how she was. This i. i IK; '1f. TME CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 4 i plan was very iileasing to the trapper and he did all he could to help the travelers on their journey. Charlie was loth to part with his pigeon, and sorry to leave his friend ; but the thought of going to school soon blunted his grief Weston had intended to take the most direct route to Des Moines, but at the first town at which he stopped, a newspaper which he bought and consulted for news from the "East," informed him that a child supposed to be the " Missing Charlie " had been seen at the Red River settlement ; this news alarmed him, for he had now a double reason for wishing to retain the boy. If the child was found in his possession, he might be charged with his abduction ; and he might Hnd it difficult to iniike anv one believe his story of how the child came into his care. Then if the child became heir to the farm in Iowa, the law might see fit to ap- point a new guardian, or at the least inquire too clcsely into his past life ; he was afraid of the law anyway, aiul so concluded to wait until the search for Charlie was entirelv over before he ventured to look up the '"farm." I t A 1 li^ I : 68 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. A party of emigrants bound for Utah passed tlirougli the town ; and Weston soon found means to make liimself and Cliarlie members of the party. Ilis pitiful story of his burnt cabin, and his sister's death in its flames, served him as well here as with the trapper, and a kind-hearted woman took the child under her immediate care. The emigrants were Germans, speaking but very broken English, and AVeston had no fear of their learning anything from the chiUl that would endanger his safety, while he could converse with them quite readily, having been proficient in their language in his younger days. ■;• I ^1 .' S h le ^ ^ CHAPTER YI " Far In the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous sum- mi tH, Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway. Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon, Westward the Oregon Oows, and the Walleway and Owyhee." Longfellow's " Evangeline." IIAELIE was very much disappoint- ed at not being permitted to attend school ; but he made no objection "^^^^^^^ to going with the emi^'rant train ; ^ and it wouhl not have made any difference if he had, A place was assigned him in one of the white-topped wagons, drawn by a yoke of oxen, and "Weston found a place near him by driving the oxen. Slow and tedious as this mode of travelins; seems, there is a wild charm attending it that drives away tlie monotony ; and the changing ill '^' I if ( 1! i' y i 70 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. scenery is to the lover of nature a constant source of delight. Charlie had learned to cook by an open fire dur- ing his winter in the trapper's cabin; and was able to make himself quite useful to the family with whom he traveled. This family consisted of a Mormon with his wife and four children, one a babe of eighteen months ; and the addition of a quiet, obedient boy, who was willing to amuse the baby, or bake the cakes for breakfast, was consid- ered rather pleasant than otherwise. Spring was far advanced, and the emigrants found water and food plenty, so they were able to travel twenty miles each day, and as they were seldom delayed, the whole train of twenty-five wagons moved steadily on. Game was abundant ; and the rifles of the men kept the train well supplied with buffiilo and ante- lo})e steaks, and loasts, and these w^ith prairie chickens, rabbits, etc.. made their bill of fare quite varied. At night the impudent coyotes would come around the camp and bark, and carry off the THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 71 boiics, or uiijtiiing else that was eatable, which thev could steal ; and sometimes did carry away a load of shot, f red into them by the night watch- man ; but they were hard to kill, except when shot throui2:li the heart. Th t] ithout amusement tor those who could not iind enough in the scenes through which they were passing. x\mong the one hundred and sixty souls which were in the l^arty, there wei*e many who could draw sweet sounds from instruments of music ; and the notes of the violin, accordeon and flute, mingled with the music of human voices, were often heard in the familiar tunes of the Fatherland ; while around some of the camp-fires a few couples were seen to join in the moonlight dance. The route along the Great Platte valley was a ^ccne of great beauty and interest to our travelers. The fertile bottom lands, green with verdure, and the train daily receiving accessions from other routes, whicli all converge in the Platte valley. The scene at the crossing of the Platte was excit- ing in the extreme ; the screaming of women and «] H, ; .'■ !i t M ,!i ii" i I ^^"1. -^ 11 i 1 1" 72 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. cliildrcn ; the loud sliouts, and sonietinies curses of the men, mingled with the bustle of nearly a hun- dred white-topped M'ugons, all in sight of each other ; some just arriving, others just trying the ford, and others disappearing over the hills be- yond. The Mormon children with whom Charlie trav- eled were nearly wild with fright, but our hero was naturally of a very cahn temperament, and was accustomed to accept things as they were, and make the best of them ; and then he had forded rivers before in a wagon ; so he remained quiet amid all the bustle ; and endeavored to console the little daughter of the Mormon, by telling her " there was no danger, for he had crossed streams before ;" not realizing at that moment tliat she did not understand a word lie was saying. "When the oxen attached to the wagon which preceded them, reared and plunged on entering the ford, so that the curtain of the wagon burst from its fastenings, and one of tlie mounted guides disappeared for a moment, all but his head, be- lu ath tlie water, the mother clasped her babe to i. .^„ i< fro THE CARKER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 76 l:or bosom, and watclicd with pallid face until the stream was crossed, and they were safe on the other side. For days and weeks the long train of white- topped wagons kept on its way undisturbed ; passing herds of buffalo and wild horses, which scampered away snorting as they approached, sometimes packs of hungry wolves followed at a distance, seeking the remains of the breakfasts which they had left behind. Occasionally the night was made lurid by a distant prairie lire ; but this trouble never came near enough to molest them. They often had to ford streams ; and some- times on the banks of rivers they saw Indian wig- wams, and squaws planting corn. The most curious and pleasing sight to the children was the little village of prairie dogs, which they left the wa«j^ons to examine more closelv : sometimes iind- ing on the top of the same mound, the burrowing owl perched in solemn silence on one side of the hole, and on tlie other, tlie lively little prairie dog, with his head erect and fore-paws hanging down, readv at the sliirhtest noise to dart into his hole. i i'- IL .1 I k I I if: I 1 ^ i M 74 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. Occasionally the sod house of some early settler came in view ; and at the junction of the Loup Fork with the Platte River, quite a town was piissed through, whil(^ alone ti^e route near this place, idianties vere i-i'i.t) m \/hich refreshments were oiTered for sale ; -issu a; '•"hese places some of the emigrants were wont to refresh themselves in a manner which caused night hideous afterwards. Farther on, many a snug home marked the dwel- ling-place of some successful tanner, and these were sheltered by groves of cottonwood trees and fenced by hedges of white willow. They were passing over the land of which Longfellow speaks, when he says, — Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies, Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine; Bright with luxui'iant clusters of roses and purple amorphas. After crossing the South Platte, they followed up the Lodge Pole Creek to the Cheyenne Pass. They now had to pass over the vast solitary plains of Colorado, broken occasionally by rugged buttes and bluffs, and famed for their never-failing ■H? VV ' i lu ■,'«--■ THE CARELR OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. ^x 70 breezes even in the hottest davs. And this vast region was only the j^ruzing field of thousands of buffalo, or hcrus of cattle. As they came near the mountains, the scenery became more grandly bcau- titul. The most dangerous part of the journey had commenced ; and the guides of the party had many dismal tales to tell of attacks from >\„.,'^ of savages, who would hide in the momil In 'es, and rush out to murder and rob the ; itas >ecting emigrant. Thunderstorms were very frequent du- ring their passage through the mouui-aia region; and Charlie never forgot the beautiful rainbow which he saw in this vicinity. Passing through a narrow gorge in the Rocky Mountains the train entered the valley of the Green River, so called from its peculiar color, which is supposed to be owing to the green shale through which it runs ; and which is supposed to contain arsenic or chloride of copper, which, adher- ing to the pebble stones on the bottom of the stream, causes the water, as you look into it, to bear the same color. They found this valley rich with fossils and petrifactions, of- which both . ■..'■H.yli.l i I t' Jlt I ' I,'. I"' \\) 70 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. "Weston and Charlie would have liked to have made a large collection, but they had no means of carrying them, so were obliged to content them- selves with a few of the most curious moss agates and fossil lish. A small town built of adobe, was on the bottom land directly in front of the gorge; while Castle Kock and the Twin Sisters were plainly visible as the travelers passed on their journey. The game here was abundant, and some of the small streams afforded them plenty of fish. Char- lie was very nmch interested in the manner in which the old hunters decoyed the antelope within range of their rilles. The hunter would approacli the herd, and after being seen by them, would squat down and wave a handkerchief, and then up and down, at the same time moving tow^ards the unsuspecting animals; the antelopes curious to know what was jumping up and down, would ap- proach quite close, and were easily shot. The whole route abounded with agates and other curious specimens ; while soda, iron and fresh water springs were very plenty and near each other. U ll THE CAliKKIi UF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 77 From some of the springs steiim was issuing, rising higli in tlio iiir; and one spring was so hot tliat our party cooked a prairie chicken in it. While one man was so increduk)us that he took a phmge in the pool and was nearly scalded to death ; timely assistance saved his life ; and he doubted no longer. A petrified turtle nine feet across and fifteen in length, was here reported to the emigrants as laying by the side of one of the streams leading from one of the geyser formations in the Yellow- stone valley, that would have adorned the museum of any institute in the country. One of the hot springs was within twenty-five feet of a cold one, and ncitheT* seemed to be affected by the other. The hills and mountains in the vicinitv of Bear Itiver were saiF TIIK STDI.F.X IIOV, ClIAULIK. AftiT thret' inoiitlis of steady tnivol our party reached the abru])t and massive scenes of Echo Canon, beside wliieh the smooth country lying on both sides the Phitte River seemed (hdl and tame. The scenerv liere was a constant succession for miles, of natural curiosity. Winged Rock, which was a singular i)erpendicular column jutting out in front of a ledge, with outstretched wings, looking as if it would fly but for its weight. Kettle Rocks, which were immense gray boulders, looking very much like monstrous kettles ; and Steamboat Rocks, called the Great Eastern, and the Great Republic. Then there was Witches Rocks, Battle- ment Rocks, Egyptian Tombs, Witches Bottles, and the Pulpit Rock, with many others too numer- ous to mention. On the south a portion of the Weber River was seen with its green banks and tree verdure foi'miiig a relief to the bare, dry plains so constantly seen in this region. The mountain streams were tilled with trout; and elk and deer were plenty. After leaving Weber Canon the scene changed, and the valley with its little villages, grain fields. I ■\ In VV:. J TIIIO CAKEKK OK TlIK STOLKN JJOV, CHAULUi. T!> aiul mofidows brilliant with Indian pinks up])ear('(l. Then the Profile Tlocks were passed, and the breezes from the great inland sea, Salt Lake, were i)lainly distinguished. Then canie the Devil's Slide, two row8 of perpendicular rocks about eight feet ai)art, running parallel to each other, and up a steep mountain side. Charles gazed at these scenes with awe, and wondered if the Devil really did slide down that rock. A ])arty of miners had overtaken the emigrant train just before reaching the mountain region ; and kept alung with them two or three wx'eks of their journey. Their destination was California; and as tliej were all Americans, Charlie sought their society at every opportunity, and soon became (piite a favorite among them. And as AVeston found their society so much more to his taste, than he did that of the Mormons, he was about devising some means of joining their party, when sick- ness overtook him and put an end to all of his plans. The mountain fever prostrated him, days came and WTut, but he grew steadily worsi'' and although everything was clone for him that i:ircuni- 'd in r' "' . I. r I ; m\ ||if ■ :\ i \) SO THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. Stances 2:)eniiitted, dctith claimed liiin at last ; com- ing not to him as it came to Maurice Burton, slowly and surely, giving. him i)lenty of chance for repentance and sorrow for past mistakes, and lead- ing him to make an effort to restore the lost boy to his mother ; but claiming him with his mind clouded wutli delirium, and leading him through the ^' dark calley^''^ seemingly unconscious that he was going. He died and they buried hun by the i-oadside ; a simple board marking his grave, and a pile of stones around it. And thus we leave on( of whom we might say, — Bright was the promibein boyhood, Dashing his noonday career; But dark was the hour of his manhood Passing 'mid danger and fear. While dark plans of vengeance pursuing, The hour of his doom came at last; lie rests in the grave on the mountain, The time for repentance has past. 'in fr ' t. 1 1 I' i' f.l ' t is: CHATTER YII. " My memory tt-Ua of au early friend Who (lid a father's care extend, When by misfortune, I wan left Of every earthly friend hereft ; And his deeds of love, in my memory seem Tiike fragrant p^jringtime flowers to gleam.' ILMwLIE was very much grieved at the death of Weston, for the man liud always treated him kindly; and lie was too yonni;' to realize that he "|s; had kept him from his mother ; and now that he had no one near him on whom he had any claim, he felt all the bitterness of his lonely situation keenly. J-Jut the kind Father in Heaven who watches over the friendless and helpless, was raising up a friend for him in his hour of need. Among the party of miners, was a tall man of ccmimanding ]n*esence, who seemed by common consent to be the leader of ilie little party. Be w ill!; If.- f : 5 !i IS ^l^i ii,; i t I't'' : ^ 82 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. tween tliis man and Charlie there seemed to exist mutual liking, and after Weston's death, he took upon himself the task of caring for the child, and no one made any objections. Among the few papers found in AYoston's effects was tlie deed given him by the trapper; and this the man took care of, telling Charlie it might make him rich some day. From the child he learned that his father had carried him off from his mother because he was " mad about a divorce," that his mother was living in Massachusetts, but he did not remember where. The child knew nothing of the great search that had been made for him ; and his listener's mental comment was, " Some poor fel- low who had no peace at home, had started fur the hind of gold, and perished, like many others, on the way." To the child he said, "Well, my boy, it is impossible to look your mother u}) now, so we will go to California and get rich, and then you can llnd her, for money will do anything." This proposal pleased the boy ; and as they were at a point where the Mormon's path diverged from theirs, he bade adieu to the family with whom he > THE carkf:Pv of the stolen boy, ciiarlie. 83 were from 111 he had traveled over tliree inontlis, and departed with tlie gold seekers. The miners were better prepared than the gen» eral class of emigrants for travel ; they had tine mules, complete outfits, and now that the country was quite level, they made long trips from "sun to sun ; '' and after a pleasant journey of three weeks were nearing their destination. The discovery of gold, a few years before, had attracted many to California, and every nerve had been strained to reach the new Eldorado. Many of the first emigrants, in their haste to get to the '' land of gold" before the rush, found to their dis- mav, that thev had overloaded their teams, and driven too rapidly, thus wearing out their stock; {inil they were compelled to throw away some of their stores, which were afterwards picked up by the fpllowing trains. Al*t(M' j>assing the Great American Desert, our travelers were glad to arrive at the Humboldt Wells, ah the thirty springs were called, which al- ways formed the great watering ])lace and camping ground In the days of emigrant overland travel. (t I'! .! \ m pii ! / i: t; ( 84 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. Anotlicr group of noted springs were passed, one of wliicli was called Chicken Soup Spring, tor the water by adding salt, pepper, butter, and crackers, tasted as nnich like chicken soup as that which is usuallv served at hotels. The waters of these springs were said to be a certain cure for rheumatism and all diseases of the blood ; to have a remarkable effect in all paralytic cases, and to cure consumption when not too far advanced The Piute Indians catching fish with hooks made from rabbits' bones and greasewood, were a great curiosity to Charlie, and he wondered very much to see them pull out two or three fish at a time. The Pufiing or Steamboat Springs also attracted his attention ; for every fifteen or twenty minutes they would blow up water and steam into the air, remindin": him of the steamer he had seen leaving the wharf just bef )re he joined the emigrant train. Our hero, who was now in his eighth year, be- i,'a?i to ?liow quite a talent for music, and ihnu his nesv n-iend who played the violin, he learned many t ''.ili.u f.iri and sa:);' them in a sweet voice beside m l<: ' I, • ' THE CAliEER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 85 uig the evening cani])-fire, holding his audience silent listeners wliile he sung. Being the only hoy among so many men, placed Charlie in a ])osition to be made quite a pet of, and his gentle disposition made him a great favorite \v\\h the \vliole party ; and as he remembered his winter home on the banks of the river in the forest, and many of the stories related by his old friend, the trapper, he would repeat them in sucli an earn- est manner that would always win the attention of the entire party. lie always listened himself, with rai)t attention, when the men talked of the gold diggings, and soon learned the meaning of the wild excitement which led men to leave happy homes and dare the ]»erils of a long journoy to the distant reu'ions nf which thev knew so lit' . lie -oon became as anxious as the /r mem- bers of the })arty to reach that land of icli some (if tlu' men told such stories of fab is wealth, drawn tVom letters which had been received from friends who ha«l gone on before, aiid he shared their i<*v wlien thev bei''au to tell that the golden land was verv near. pB^'«':5SipiS ii 1^'^!'r )' t : ,„.i Vri i ' 86 THE CAKEER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. > I ; :'l i ,' u I' I : i^ - ii ' 111 ^ to; . The snow-capped Sierras formed the dividing line between our eager travelers and the sought for goal. What grand scenes here met their view ; above the timber line rises tall mountains covered with perpetual snow. Cold austere monuments, pointing their spires in solemn stillness to the skies — who would not like to know how long, how very long, they had stood tliere 'i Where man has never trod, these pinnacles stand defiant ; and be- neatli thesp cold towers, at the base of the snow belt, blossom beautiful flowers, watered by the melting snow, seeming in the warm sunlight like layers of spring, summer, and winter. The three seasons seem to meet the eye at a glance, and im- press every one Wxih admiration and awe. Donner Lake, with its blue mirror-like surface, tlie little gem of the chain of lakes in the Sierra Nevada Mountains was passed by our party, wlio st()i)ped lo admire its beauty and listen to the sad story of " Starvation Camp," where in the winter of 1S4G-7, a company of eighty-two persons, going to California, were overtaken by snow, and lost their cattle, and were reduced to terrible straits. M THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 87 Thirty-two of this company were females, and there were a hirge nmnber of chihlren. Thirty-six were said to liave perished, mostly men. Relief was sent to the party, but ail could not be saved ; and a Afrs. Donner preferred to remain and perish witli her husband rather than go away with her riiildren and leave him behind. This tragedy gave tlie lake its name. Our travelers turned away with a shudder, and with thankful liearts that they had escaped so far all the dangers of overland travel. This lake was ted by many streams, and was now full to its banks with very clear cold watci", which afforded plenty of speckled trout to the )iun":rv travelers. The heat was so intense, for it was now midsum- mer, that they were obliged to seek the shade of tlu- tall pines, and rest at midday, traveling only in the cool of the morning and late in the afternoon. When descending the mountain side, where the ]>alace car now rushes down at the speed of sixty iiules an Jiour, into the vallev of the Sacramento, • '-.ii- travelers were obliged to proceed with great / i ) .1 i ! |t i ■^=it 'U ^ 88 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. canti(jn ; and places were pointed out to them by their guide wliere the emigrant wagons liad to be let down by ropes, the men taking a turn or two with the ropes around the big pines to ])revent too r'^'V'id descent. They also saw near the road the track of a large landslide, where the snow melted by the summer heat, had caused a portion of the mountain to slide or slip down, carrying all that stood before it. Trees, rocks, earth, jmd animals were all swept on and buried in the ruins. The antlers of deer, and bones of bears and other animals could be plainly seen at the foot of the mountain where the immense ^'iight had stopped. What a perilous position for a man to be placed in I Yet men have b(;en cauglit in these land- slides, which occur quite often. This landslide had blocked the path down the mountain side, causing a delay of ton days to the first party wdio attempted to pass that way. Our miners came up just in time to be of service in helping to clear the paMi. and wei'c detained five days in consequence. I. . 'li ni::f TiiL ('Ai:i;i:i: of the sullen bov, Charlie. 89 Among tlic noticeable features in this locality were tlie tall trees, and the stumps of trees cut off eiixhty feet above tlie ground. This fact was ex- })luitu'd by their guide. A great depth of snow had fallen the winter before, and these trees had been used for firewood by camping parties, who iuid cut them oiT at the surface of the snow. It was said that the snow sometimes drifted to the depth of one hundred feet ; and these drifted masses, melting in the spring and summer, supply the streams with water when no rain falls. The road being opened, our i>art}' rushed on to their destination, until they reached the last of the steep mountain paths thr.t tliey would have to de- scend ; here they toaud themselves obliged to pass ( vcr a nai'row, dim, rough, Indian trail, surrounded by precipitous cliffs and craggy rocks, at the peril of life and limb, for should their " buroes'' (mules) misste}), tlicy were liable to fall three hundred feet to th<3 rocks below. Their guide pointed out to thoni a spot where a mii.e)' li:i(] lo-t his mule and all his effects only two wet'ks befoi'e, and when they had reached a safe '. ] 90 THE CAREKR OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. ':<; 1 I . » ;i ■' ' i i. i I > ' > \ cainpiiig ground, he told the etgry, wliicli was as follows: — " Jim Saylor was always luckj at the iiiincs, but <»f a rovin' nater, and always lookin' for somothin' bettcM" ; he had be'ii liavin' good luck at the ' Red Dog; ' but heariii' of the big doiu's up to the •Tin Cup,' he fitted out a ])ack mule with minin' kit and kitchen, and he started over the mount'in path alone. After breakfastin' near this spring here, he lashed his kitchen on one nnile's back, and ridin' another, started for his day's journey. Tlic trail had n't be'n passed over in some time, and had become filled up by rubbish, and badly washed by nieltin' snow. You observed the mount'in side was terrible steep, 'round wh(;re the trail went ; and them jagged rocks and the dizzy liighth above the canon was enough to make yer blood run cold. At the steep p'int where I took the boy on my back, the ])ack animal, who was re- markable sure-footed 'most-ways, lost his hold and with a loud startlin' bray, and struglin' clutch at tlie air, he went down, down, the — the bottom of the canon, where he lays now, if the wolves and II :* 1/ |i> ' I as THE CAREKU OF THE STOLEN liOY, CHARLIE. 91 buzzards haint car'ed him oft'. Tlie poor buroe and all that was attached to him was lost. To attempt to save anything wasn't to be thought on, and the whole kit, which cost three hundred dol- hu's was gone past cure. There was nothin' for the unhicky ' goM seeker' to do, but to go on until he reached a place where he could turn 'round, and then return to the nearest to\Mi, buy a new kit, and start ag'in ; this he did, and at last reached the 'Till Cup' in safety." "I tell you what, boys," said the guide, lighting his pijx', when he had finished his story, '"'this luiiiin"' uiiit all ijfold, anvway." Charlie and his friends at last reached a place on the Stanislaus Tiiver, which was called Pine Log, because a pine log had fallen over a narrow [)ortii»n of the river in such a manner that it formed a ru«;tic bridge, which the miners used. Here they decided to locate, and here Charlie took liis first lesson in ]»hieer mining. Our hero soon became verv liandv in the various ? ^ /A Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 & z -r.s- • [i / r I J- d th I u^ PC' 92 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. €iitlj large sum of a dollar and a half in a day ; we say apparently large, for when we take into consid- eration that it cost from seventy-five cents to a dollar to feed a boy in this region, the remainder of the dollar, tifty,'wonld not go very far towards pay- ing his board on the days in which their toil brought them comparatively nothing. The boy however was so useful to the whole mining party, that he was welcome to share their meals at any time ; and his guardian always laid aside his little earnings for a time when he might need them more. The habits of frontiermen and miners are verv rough, but there is no class more kind or charita- ble to a person in distress. They make no loud boasts, but each bestov/s his mite freelv and with- out hope of return. Rough songs, rude jests, and the practical joke form the sum of the miners amusements. An insult is quickly resented, and the offender quickly punished. Living away from the restraints of societ}^, and the softer inliuence of women, they soon learn to act from impulse histead of reason, and as a rule f «: THE CAREEli OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 93 their temper becomes quick and ungovernable, and tliey resist any encroachments upon their supposed rights by the quickly drawn bowie-knife or revol- ver; and if under the influence of whisky, the per- son who chances to incur their displeasure some- times meets death at their hands. All si)eedily lose their polish, but all do not be- come depraved, and in some the pure gem is still seen, shining brightly through the rough exterior. They all soon become infatuated with their busi- ness, and whether successful or not, they plod on, led by the "Will o' the Wisp" hope which still points to the bright future in the distance, when they shall behold the golden harvest or silver pro- duct of their severe toil. Ah! how intoxicating the dream. They know that fortunes have been accunmlated in a week, a month, or a year ; and they labor on still hoping, until from exposure they break down and die, meet with some dreadful accident, or from sheer want, are obliged to abandon the enterprise. When a miner wins a fortune, no one is the loser by it, but all around hini feel the influence of his gains. I * .i ■■I If 11 ' ! u \ »: »<• I 'i If. . i- ! MS rl\ i [ i ; ) • I H 1 0-i THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CIIARIJE. For several weeks our party of miners were able to keep togetlier ; for the camp at which they located was rich in surface diggings for many miles around, so they could dig and wash out their earn- ings in the river and all return to one camp at night ; but the time came when they were obliged to strap their blankets, provisions, pick, pan, and shovel upon a pack mule and trudge over the mountains to search for new spots of treasure. When a place was readied where the brick color of the earth seemed to promise a reward for toil, tlie mule was unpacked and turned out to graze ; and the miner went to work with pick and shovel to fill his pan with the earth, that he might sepa- rate it from the mineral by washing it in the moimtain stream ; and when the days' work was done, and the evening meal eaten, he would roll himself up in his blankets, with a stone or a log for a pillow, and no shelter but the starry sky, find sleep and rest, except when disturbed by the wild beasts which infest this region. Charlie usually accompanied his guardian on these ]n-ospecting tours ; and they were generally i . if rl fin I ■r' i THE CAREKR OF THE STOLEN IJOY, CHARLIE. 95 successful in both finding mineral wealth and free- dom from attacks by wild beasts. When making their bed for the night, under the side of a shelv- ing rock, his friend would sometimes say, "Never mind, Charlie, if the bed is hard ; if we can only wash out plenty of " Cheipsas," (the term for large pieces) in this region, we will go East and find your mother." While among the hills, they saw plenty of deer ; and one day an accident occurred, which impressed itself upon Charlie's mind, so that it was never forgotten. One day while making their way through the scrubby bushes and small pines they came upon two buck deer engaged in an earnest fight ; almost every one will stop to witness this sight ; and our two friends watched the battle with considerable interest. The struggle was a fierce one, for both contestants were powerful, and each received many a deep wound from the antlers of the other. For an hour and a half the bucks plunged at and i>'oaded each other without anv si i{ ir ( ': P \i ; 00 THE TAREKR OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHAKME. V! hist botli seemed exliausted, and withdrew a sliort ht was cc»ntinued until one of the deer broke his antlers, when he turned and fled. The other starte4 in swift pursuit, and soon both were out of sight. The man and boy were both deeply interested in this scene, and they gathered some of the plant to carry with them when they returned lb the Pine Log camp. Here they found the Indians used the same herb on fresh cuts and bruises, and also made infusions of it for their fever patients. They per- haps had learned its virtues in the same way that our friends had. TIIK CAREER OF THE SToLKN T.oY, CHARLIE. 97 The party of forty iniiiers wliu luid crossed tlie ])ljiiiis together, soon became widely scattered ; now and then some of themwouUl meet and learn from each other news of those they had not met. Some had nuule a "big strike" and gone home rich, via the Panama railroad ; others in prospecting had struck the bottom of some rocky canon, leaving their bodies a prey to the wolf and buzzard ; others still, who were fortunate enough to have the means by them, had grown sick of the life of risk and toil, and returned to earn a sure but humble living in the ^'Statcs^^—a^ the homes they came from were called by them. One poor fellow had met a sad fate at the hands of [he vigilance comnuttee. He had gone to a new camp where it was said the diggings were very rich, and meeting with a miner at the store where they had obtained supplies, he had made a partial bargain to join him at his claim. He was to go to the miner's cabin in the evening and complete the bargain. That night the miner was nnu-dered in his cabin, and his bag of gold, which was buried in one corner of the clay floor was carried off One r-.\k i if V r iMii ; ; : U i l!'li 98 Till!: CAKKEU or the HTULEN lioV, CIIAULIE. of tlie vigihiiicc coimnittoe liiid seen the stranger near tlie cabin, and tlie cnnie was laid to him. In vain lie denied the aecusation ; and in six hours after he was arrested, he had been launehed into eternity. The next day two roughs were caught stealing horses, and when about to be hung for this crime, they confessed that they had murdered the miner, for whose death the vigilants had hung an innocent man. Charlie and his friend had left the vicinity of the Pine Log Camp, and were living a few miles from riacerville, where Mr, Gordon, Charlie's friend and guardian, kept a store. He had placed the boy at school to obtain his long-neglected edu- cation ; and was assisted in this, by little sums which the successful miners sent to him for that purpose, whenever they had opportunity. Charlie spent three years at school, and as he improved every moment, he was able to acquire more useful knowledge in that time than many boys obtain in twelve where school is no luxury to them. At the end of the third year he left school and I THE CAREKK UK THE STOLEN IK)Y, CHAULIE. 99 assisted his IVitMid in his store; for Mr. Gordon was HOW doing ji hirge business. Improvements liad increased rai>idly ; stages made daily trips to the steamer Uinding, fifty miles away ; and the overland mail route and steamship line made com- munication with the East comparatively easy. The population was continually changing. New comers were daily arriving, and those wlio had obtained fortunes, or were discouraged with the prospects and had friends, were returning to the States. New discoveries were reported every day, and trade grew prosperous. All staple articles had to be brought from eastern cities. A sack of flour could be sold readily for a dollar per pound, and other things accordingly. Among the new comers were those who were seeking profitable investments, and to one of these Mr. Gordon sold his business at a good figure. Five vears of constant success, or well-directed industry had made William Gordon a wealthy man. In the East he had many friends, and among them a blue-eyed girl liad promised to wait until he could earn the means to support her in the style « i I \ \ \ 1t f i « il l! '. i I M 'i y y'l" i Mni ■| M -'I lOO TlIK CAUKKU OF THE STOLEN HOY, CIIAKLIK. of living to which ishe hud always been accus- toined. Tills had been the hope that had sustained him amid all the dangers and privations of overland travel and mining; and now that which became for was won, the same idol which had cheered him in his toil, now lured him to his home. Charlie was again to be left without a protector. His friend obtained for him what he thought was a good situation, for he found a man who promised to give him a home^ with a chance to study, and wages at a fixed sum per week, in return for labor performed. Here he left him with a small sum of money, and plenty of good advice, and departed to take the steamer to return to his eastern home. ( ■ 1 I, ■ •r . 11' 1 1 ; 'Vl' 1^ KU 1 1 It fc » I ^:iin;< ^ It CHAPTER VIII. i " The cloud may be dark, but there's Buuahiuo beyond it; The ni«htmay bo o'er uh, but nioruin*^ Ih uoar; The vale may bo doej), b»it therc'n muHio aroimd it. And hope, 'mid our anguish, bright hope iH still hero. " Still here, though the wiug of dark sorrow is o'er n^, Tho' bitterness dregs every cup that we drink ; With a amile in her eye, she glides ever before us To yield us support, when wo falter or sink," —The Flower Vase N OUPt last chapter we left Cliarlie at liis new home. He was now thirteen years of age, and had reached a great change in his life. Hitherto he had only felt the rule of love. In all the changing scenes of the past, those bv whom he had been surrounded had always sought to make him happy, and to soften for him the rough path of his life. Now for the first time, he hud changed a guardian for a master. With John Norton, "a mouth to be fed must . I i ■ i1 I » ■ .1 J i 'I • { r; "»,< 102 THE CAREEU OF THE STOLEN IlOY, CHA14ME. v'.'ari) its bread ; " and he took care that Charlie should be kept well employed at all times; while he endeavored to impress upon the lad's mind what a good thing it was to have a lionie ; and how thankful he ought to be to have somebody to take care of hhn and look out for his interests. IIo never believed in praising anybody who was under his rule ; it was apt to make them put on airs and foi'get their place. If Charlie forgot any of his prescribed duties, or tailed to perform any of the tasks set him, he was told that it was strange he could be so ungrateful after ^/ZZ that had been done for him; the «^^ was covered in Charlie's mind by sulHcient of the plain- est kind of food. The chance to study which had been bargained for, was confined to rainy days when nothing else could be done, and the daughter of the house happened to be in the mood to lend books, or give him help, which was not often ; for this young lady did not see any need of the hired b(\y being treated like one of the family ; and never permitted him to enter the parlor ; that place was reserved for the use of herself and her visit- (. ■} I . ■;!( THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 103 / ors ; and lier books were ull too nice to bo taken to the kitchen, or fingered by a dirtj, careless boy. And so tlio bov who ini i! ;• r,) ', I. .' !>« ■» i i i } ; I. i J ;i- ! I 104 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. the village post-office, together with a small store, which contained a stock of miner's supplies. He had been reared in the back woods of Maine, and in his boyhood days there were very few school ad- vantages, and he belonged to that class of people who seem to begrudge the rising generation all the advantages which they possess above those who were children fifty years ago. lie had a vivid recollection of the time, when his own wardrobe consisted of one new suit of home- spun clothes for Sunday wear and visiting; and a suit of the same material well covered with buck- skin patches for everyday ; while the one pair of heavy shoes per year were only worn when absu- lutely necessary. These facts were always served up for Charlie's benefit whenever he was found with a book in hand or chanced to forget any appointed task. lie was not a bad man ; indeed he thought himself a very good man ; he went regularly to church, asked a blessing at the table, and boasted that he owed no mai\ a dolhir. His [)]'e.sent com- fortable situation had been (.)btained bvdint of hard ! ! THE CAREER OF THE STOLEX BOY, CHARLIE. 105 labor, small savings, and rigid economy in former days. And he thouglit lie was fulfilling the terms of the bargain William Gordon had made for our hero, in the fullest sense of the word. The boy ate at the same table with him except when his wife lutd company ; and then, although lie knew that Charlie always had to wait, he never thouglit to inquire whether any cake or preserve was saved for him or not ; but the young lady daughter did not think it at all necessary to serve cake to a hired chore boy, so he seldom obtained any sweetmeats ; but his master laid aside his stip- ulated wages with gi*eat regularity ; and told Char- lie that he would take care of the monev, and when he wanted clothes, he would get them for him. When Charlie found that he could not obtaiii books in the house which was called his home, he sought for them among the neighboring families, and found them quite willing to lend him all he wanted ; but his master thoimht it verv foolish to waste so much time with books ; he was accustomed to i-enjurk, •' I never had but fiftv-two davs school- iiig in all my life, and I always got along well I '1 1^ •i;!i; ' n ]^ \ 1;! i .1 MI't X-: 1 ^l'' 1 I ; f ' M h V2^J \ lOG THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. eiiougli." If he saw Charlie with a book in his liaiid, it seemed to arouse a desire to find him some other emplo^^ment; and the boy came to expect if liis master found Iiim reading, that he would think of beans that were to be shelled, or that the store wanted sweeping, or of some new goods that he had forgot to mark ; for there was never a moment in that house when some work could not be found; and at last Charlie began to ask himself, if there was any need of his enduring this kind of treat- ment. William Gordon had said to him when he bade him good bye, '" Stick to one place as long as you can, Charlie, ' a rolling stone gathers no moss,' and if yon are not quite suited, don't leave a poor home until you are sure of a better one." And this ad- vice kept the boy patient nearly a year in the home that was so full of small thorns. But when J(jhn Norton refused him a lamp to go to bed with, because he found that the boy often read for hours in his lonely chamber, he began to think that lie had been patient long enough. A party of miners coming to the store to obtain THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 107 supplies, brouglit to Charlie's mind a prospect of relief from the unpleasantness of his situation. lie found from their conversation that they were bound for some "new diggins " of which they had lately heard ; and Charlie made up his mind to go with them. He found no trouble in obtain- ing an outlit, for he had never spent any of his wages ; and although his master was unwilling to have him leave, and told him he would surelv rue the day that he had left so good a home, when he found the boy was determined to go, he paid him the full amount due him, in goods from his stock in trade. From the fund left him by his friend, Mr. Gor- don, he was able to purchase a nmle and still have a little cash left for future use. On the day appointed, Charlie, with the party of miners started for the new discoveries, near the Stanislaus ; and this trip led them through a new part of the state, and along the banks of its wind- ing rivers, with majestic scenery on every hand ; through deep canons, under cliffs of perpendicuhir rocks three thousand feet in height, and among the 108 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. V 'I ' 1 \i 'U >• » ;.. •! tall redwood trees, whose innnense height and size have since become the wonder of the world. With these scenes now and then mingled a fine stream of water whose volume, increased by melting snow, formed cataracts and tiny waterfalls, each a pano- rama of itself. Camp life amid such scenes was very inviting ; and our party consisting of four young men besides Charlie, who was very tall for a boy of fourteen, made a very happy group around the camp fire. Charlie had become quite an expert as camp cook during the two years that he had spent with his friend "William Gordon among the mines, but I cannot say that he had reached the ability in the art of making slap-jacks which miners usually claim; for they often say that unless the cook can successfully toss his slap-jacks in the air and catch them again, nicely turned and right side up, he shoukl lay no claim to being a camp cook. Some even go so far as to claim the ability to send the slap-jack up the chimney and be ready on the out- side to catch the sa'ne, nicely turned, done brown, and ready to be served witli bacon, beans, coffee, etc. y. )i ;l, ■> f t 'I I THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 109 "Wliile on tlieir way to the diggings our party found plenty of game ; and the streams afforded trout, deer supplied them with venison, and quail on toast or "torteias " was common. A short distance from the route they were pur^ suing, the^wonderful Natural Bridges of California were to be found, and our travelers paused and turned aside in their journey to visit this great curiosity. These bridges, of which there were two, were reached by passing down a very steep path or trail, and all at once they were in sight of, and actually under the bridge, which hangs between the high ridges of mountains, like a huge umbrella without any handle. The upper arch is forty feet high in the centre and two hundred and seventy-five feet from the entrance to the end. These formations are of cream colored rock, and slope towards the ends or entrance. They have the appearance of being formed by water running from limestone ledges, so much impregnated with lime, as to form granulated and solid masses of rock, in the same slow manner in which the water forms crustings on the inner surface of our teakettles. 11 .; r'ii I it!;; I : t i H: 1" I ill ■! 1 ) I •I ' 'ill ' p:; ':s. 'It * I! I- 1 110 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY CHARLIE. From underneatli the arch, stalactites or slender spiral points of rock, hang in clusters looking very much like icicles, only they are cream color tinged with green. These are formed by water dripping from above, and are met in places by stalagmites from the bottom of the bridge, or rocky floor through which a torrent of water roars, forming a grand spectacle, and impressing our hero with the idea that he must be dreaming of some wild, unreal pleasure excursion, from which he will sometimes awake to the cold realities of life. After leaving this grand and beautiful scene, and passing through the grove of mammoth trees, now known as the Calaveras Group, where several pros- trate trunks were seen that were much larger than tlie tallest trees then standing, — one of them measuring over four hundred feet in length, and many of the standing trees measuring from ten to eighteen feet in diameter — the miners found them- selves nearing their place of destination. Thej proposed to engage in river mining ; and tlioy located their camp, and built their sluices near the banks of the Stanislaus. THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CiIxVRLIE. Ill The sluices were made by nailing three boards, twelve inches wide and twelve or fourteen feet long, together, forming a bottom and two sides ; these boxes or troughs were fitted together, by placing the ends into each other, thus forming a long line ; in the bottom was placed strips of inch square lumber crosswise, at short distances from each other; these were called ritfles, and were intended to catch and retain the gold. These sluices were placed where a stream of water could pass through them, and the miners by their side shoveled dirt into them all day, and at night col- lected the sediment that liad accumulated during the dav, and washed it out in their pans, thus obtaining all the gold caught in the riffles. Some- times quicksilver was dropped into the sluice boxes to catch, and cause the fine gold to settle, thus sav- ing it all. Charlie was now a miner like the rest, and depended solely on his own efi'orts for support ; but he had high hopes, and sturdy arms. Tlie scenes in which his boyhood had been spent, had given him robust health, and made of the slender, deli- I ill >. i '). \\ J i • i ''' ■ ' -I k s \ }'\ n ill * I ( .1 It 'Hi i» |- e I 1 12 TIIIO C.VKKKIi OF THE STOLEN HoY, CIIAUME. cate boy, a strong-limbed youth ; while living almost wholly among resolute men, who were ready to dare any dangers to achieve the objects in view, had cultivated a strong self-reliant character seldom found in one so young. Each day found him by the side of his sluice shoveling the dirt and gravel with as much vigor as the rest, and fortune seemed U) favor his efforts. He still looked forward to a time when he should be rich enough to return to the States and find his mother. AVhile living with John Norton, he had at one time mailed aletter to his foster-brother, but this had came back to him, from the dead-letter office ; and a letter of inquiries directed to the ])ost master of the only town in Massachusetts of which he could remember the name, brought the resjjonse that no such person lived there. Thus all hope for the future rested in the prospect of obtaining wealth enough to go East and look for her. The thought that she might be dead never troubled him. To the imagination of youth all things wished for are possible, and when very weary with his hard toil, this thought of finding I! I i > THE CAREER UF THE STOLEN BOY, CIIAHLIE. 113 his niotlicr, wliicU had ulwajs been his day dream, cheered him. About a mile and a half from their camp, three men were mining in a gulch, and living near their mines. These men were almost entirely shut out from the world by the high mountains, and no traveled road or trail passed near their cabin, as they called the rude dwelling they had built for a shelter. They called their place Nugget Gulch ; for several gold nuggets had been found there. These men sometimes visited the camp by the river, and their visits were returned by Charlie and his mates. But although these persons often met, they never sought to learn each others past history. Their conversation was chiefly about the "Z'/^^;i<:r" of yesterday, or mournful comments on the days which brought them nothing. And sometimes the miners in the Gulch had tales to tell of encounters with grizzly bears, or panthers. Thus, although Charlie had lived at the camp by the river a year, he had never spoken of his past life, only as it was connected with mining. These diggings did not prove very rich, only fiM! .: } M'4 I 1 14 THE CAKKKR OF THE STOLEN HOY, CHARIJK. yielding a comfortable support, and one by one the members of the part}' drifted away to other camps and new diggings, until Charley was left entirely alone ; he then sought and obtained leave to make his home with the miners at Nugget Gulch. The fact of a boy of fifteen being alone in the mines without any protector, aroused the curiosity of the men from whom he had sought shelter ; while his companions had remained, they had su]v posed that he was in some way under their protec- tion ; but the young men themselves, knowing that he had left an unpleasant home when he joined them, asked no questions. When questioned by these men about his past life, a natural delicacy had kept him from speaking about any trouble between his parents ; so he began his story with the time when he had found the emigrant train witli his uncle. At this time he had been known as Charley Weston ; and the boy had almost forgotten that he had any right to any other name. The miners with whom he had crossed the plains had only known him by this name ; and when later years THE CAIJEEK OF THE STOLEN llOY, ClIAULIE. 115 had brought iidded knowledge, and a reference to the trai>per\s deed liad shown him that his true name was Burton, he had not thought it ot* any consequence ; so he still answered to the name of Weston in his new home. One of the miners seemed to feel a great interest in Charlie ; he was known among his mates as Short John or Dumpy, for he was below medium height ; and as he was never called anything else, Charlie had been at Nugget Gulch a whole year before he learned that he had any other name. This man was about thirty years of age, and had met his two companions, who were known as Father Thomas and Sam Johnson, at a mining camp near the river. Here the three men had joined their fortunes, and built the hut in the Gideli for a shelter. These men were very rough in their manners, and inclined to make sport of what they termed Charlie's "fine gentleman airs," but they were kind to him after a fashion, and he was grateful, and bore their rough jests with patience. He was able to make himself quite useful to them by i ht » '> , i » »ki. » i !-i 'Nl; ! I IN I f, ■■ 1 Hi' i > 1 S • J I, 4'it:, FV 110 THE CAUEIOR OF THE STOLEN liOY, CHARLIE. writing tlieir letters home, and eheered the soHtudo of tlie cabin by sweet songs iind amusing stories drawn Irum emigrant Hfe. It chanced one day that Short John, and Sam Julmson wlio always carried a bowie-knit'e and brace of pistols in his belt, went to the nearest town to obtain su]>plies for the camp. After they returned, a dispute arose between them, about the amount of money paid out, and Johnson, who had Ijcen drinking, grew very violent and ilourished his bowie-knife in a dangerous nuumer. Father Thomas had received liis cognomen, because he was the oldest member of the party, being twenty years older than Johnson, who was forty, and he was their acknowledged leader. Fear- ing that the quarrel would result in blows, he ste]i])ed between the disputants and ordered them to be quiet ; they obeyed, for they accej^ted his commands as law. Having produced order, the old man called upon Charlie to reckon up the articles purchased and see who was right ; whereupon Short John pulled a paper from his pocket, saying that he always took 1 » u THE CAllKER OF THE SHtLEN BOY, CHAKLIE. 117 M a bill of the goodw when lie boiii^^ht for "pnrtncrs.' Charlie took the bill, and read, " Jolin Burton bouiiht of " With 5in exclamation of snrpriso he let the paper fall to the iloor. '^AVhat'sthe matter with you?" asked Father Thomas. 'Mohn Burton was the name of my foster brother, who used to live in Troy with grand- muma.'" "And I wan brought up with my grandmother in Trov," said Short John. "Here's a family history to be raked up, said Father Thomas. I always thought them two looked alike." The dispute about money was forgotten in this new excitement ; and the other two men listened with interest while John and Charlie compared notes of the past. "When John told of the uncle who had been so kind to him, and afterwards filled a drunkard's ^n-ave, beinjx found drowned in the river, which it was supposed he had fallen into while drunk— the death-bed scene in the forest cabin came back to .! i if I Mi J t! im |IS: rir ■ ' J i t [ ; • 1;' :1 i ii. •ife ,11? :•!'•' ill' t|;lMr'5 fei I i ' )■ lis THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE, Charlie's mind like a long forgotten dream, and he remembered that the dying man had told of read- ing his own death in the paper, and resolving that if the folks at home thought him dead, he would never undeceive them, until he could go back a man they would be proud to know. John's eyes were blurred with tears when Charlie told of the lonely death-bed, and the grave under the big Cottonwood. AVhen both Rexford and John spoke of the earn- est search that had been made for the missing boy, Charlie recalled the time when he had started for the East, and the hurried wandering journey had ended at the trapper's cabin; and both men saw a connection between the letter he spoke of as having been sent by "Weston to his mother, and the one which sent Mary Burton's agents into the wilds of ]\Iichigan to look for the lost boy. Sam Johnson declared the story was as good as a novel, and proposed "to treat all round," in honor of Charlie's new found relatives ; an offer which was promptly declined, for Johnson was the only one in the cabin who ever tasted intoxicating 1 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 119 beverages. The drunken man had regained his good Jiur.ior; and instead of being angry when his treat was declined, he poured out a glass of brandy and " drank the health of the lady who was going to find her baby," and then betook himself to bed to sleep off liis drunken frolic. Charlie and his other friends sat up late that night to talk over the strange events which had just come to their knowledge ; and the young man expressed himself very anxious to see his mother at the earliest possible moment. " I remember now," said Father Thomas (his proper name was Rexford), "coming on the same :?teamer with your mother. Poor woman ! Her friends thought she was in consumption. Your sure she's livin', John?" "Yes, she was six months ago; for I saw a friend right from the same neighborhood, and he told me about her." A trip to San Francisco and back would take some weeks, but the sympathy of Thomas Rexford was aroused, and he suddenly resolved to start with Charlie the next day, and take his bag of i i f fi 1 X <, I If 4 ■ ^1 • ! I (I i Mil ! T 4 1*1 * f II 1 1 Ml E I 1 1 ]4 r ' 120 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. gold, tlie savings of many years, and send the pro- ceeds Lome to be invested in land which was sellinfj; at a low figm-e in his native town. This plan agreed upon, Charlie and his two friends retired to rest. The next morning Charlie and the old man strapped their gold upon their persons, and each, mounted upon a good mule, set out on their jour- ney. It was the intention of both to return again to the Gulch, and their companions wished them a happy journCy. \ •11 i ;H fTi ; CHAPTER IX. " I wonder that Boine mothers ever fret At little children clinging; to their gown ; Or that the footprints when the diiyn sire wet, Are ever black enough to make them frowu. If I conld lind a little muddy boot, Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber floor — If I could kiBS a rosy, reetless foot. And hear it patter in my house once more. If I could mend a broken cart to-day. To-morrow make a kite to reach tlie sky. There is no woman in God's world could say She was more blissfully content than I . " -Selected. •-'/•.'v.V-.itiMhAVtVTT; AEY BUETOX had been an inmate of her brother's ftiinily for ten years — weary years they had been to her — filled with patient sorrow and waiting, bitter years, picturing the lost one, the victim of cold and hunger, of harsh treatment, of manifold temptations; and then came those years of more subdued sorrow, when her heart had learned to wait, doing the will Ti I tiM I IF ' ill -'\ ^' •I s ^ ;i ■ ' ■ 1 4-1: i|^:| ■•? ; ^a*i I i' I) I i- .1^ i ^, 1:K^ 122 THE CAREER OK THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. of the Muster, accepting with calm patience what each day brought — as from the hand of the Lord. Changeful years they had been, for death had entered the family and taken a loved one, leaving the bereaved husband and daughter to need her consolation and care. Now we iind her in her brotlier''s home acting as housekeeper; for he is a widower, and his position as a prominent physician makes her cares and duties numerous. " I feel unusually light-hearted this morning," she said to her sympathizing brother. "Perhaps you will hear some good news soon." "I am afraid this relief to my usually oppressed heart is but the precursor of some new disappoint- ment." " Please do not always look for disappointments, auntie," said the sweet voice of the doctor's daugh ter. " The mail from the East is due this morning, perhaps 3'ou may hear some good news ; some trace may have been found of Charlie." "Yes, this is the day for overland mail, and the steamer is overdue three days, but I seldom receive letters, vou know." \ I THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 123 I There is an old proverb, " Coming events cast their shadows before." Why may we not change the idea a little, and repeat, cast their sunlight before them. Certainly there is a powerful mag- netism that attracts heart to heart ; and the eager- ness that glowed in the heart of that long separated son, now speeding over the road to the city in the mail stage, was reflected like sunlight in the heart of the mother, as she went about her daily duties- humming an old tune. The welcome mail would soon arrive. What an ea"-er throng was already waiting at the post-otHce, just down the street. Many would go away with joyful faces, and others with disappointed looks and sad hearts, missing the letters that never came. "Hark ! there comes the stage," was heard in nearly every house ; for the day on which the overland mail was due, was an event of great importance. "Oh, auntie, the stage is stopping here!" exclaimed Alice Kossimere. ' ' Somebody is getting out!" It was Thomas Eexford who left the stage first, i f .V \ I'' '^1 '• i^^: I % \ ' Pi 11 Ii! II- Mil 1 :il 1.1 j:. 124 THE CAEEER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. and Mary Burton recognized the kindly face of the man who had shown her so many kindnesses on board tlie steamer when her heart was so nearly crushed by lier recent loss / but a young man was descending now, and the mother's heart gave a quick throb ; for there was the same blue eyes, and light wavy hair of the boy she had not seen in nearly eleven years. Her heart coukl not deceive her, and in a moment she had flown to the door, and mother and child w^ere folded in a loving embrace. Tears followed freely, but they were tears of joy — and the first meeting over, the friendly miner was greeted with a her^rty welcome and over- whelmed with thanks. After an hour had passed. Dr. liossimere re- turned from his round of morning calls, and gave to the nephew he had never seen before a fond embrace, and to the elderly gentleman who had assisted at the reunion of mother and son a heart- felt welcome. A happy party were soon seated at the noonday meal ; but the joy and excitement in the hearts of two, at least, did not leave them nnich appetite for j:-,L_._ THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 125 dinner. The story of the meeting in the mines, by the foster brothers, was discussed ; the thrill of joy that pervaded the mother's heart in the morn- ing, was referred to, and then Mr. Rexford began to talk of returning to the mines, and asked Char- lie if he was going back with him. It was the doctor who answered the question. Xo! Mary cannot spare her boy, she has been deprived of him so long." "I'm a man now," said Charlie, "and I must make a home for my mother. She has been dependent upon the bounty of others long enough." "AYe will admit, Charlie, that [you are a man in stature, and a well-proportioned one," said the doctor, gazing with pride on his nephew, who was six feet in height, and although of slender build, possessed strong, well knit limbs, "but a boy of sixteen has nmch to learn before he will be capable of making a home for his mother ; besides, I am not ready to spare my housekeeper yet." The question of Charlie's returning to the mines was at once settled by the doctor promising to find him some employment in the city; and the kind i^f I ?l \ 1 - :i lit' V 1 • ii 1 i -i m i! i is t ■ m 'if !f !i| rv M I MM ! I; u'^\ \ I ' I' iW' 120 THE CAREER OF TIFE STOLEN UOY, CHARLIE. friend who luid accompanied him was pressed to remain for a k)ng visit. He decided to accept the hospitality offered him for three days, after which, he said he must return to. tlie gulcli, for his two friends tliere would begin to be anxious at his long absence. The three days were spent by Mary Bur- ton and her niece in showing their visitors the prin- ci])al objects of interest in the city, and then Mr. Rexford bade them farewell, promising to some- time visit them again, and returned to the mines, well pleased with his errand, and carrying with him pleasant recollections of one face he had left behind. After their visitor had gone, the family inquired more particularly into the past life of their long lost relative; and Mary Burton wept over the deuth-bed scene in the forest cabin ; forgiving ia her heart the wretched man who had caused her so much sorrow, when she heard from the lips of her son of his repentance and lonely death. When Charlie told of the wild journey, which had ended at the trapper's cabin, and of the months spent with the Mormon emigrants, the doctor and his I THE CAUEKK OK THE STOLEN IJOY, CHARLIE. 1-7 sister both thought of the guy and dushing Artliur Weston, and felt sure that it was the same man who was slee})ing in the lonely grave by the mountain roadside. When the story was all told, the mother clasped her boy in her arms, and sent up a silent i)rayer of thanksgiving, that her child had been kept in safety amid all the perils of his surroundings. The long weary years of praying and waiting had passed ; the full fruition (jf her hopes had come —her boy was restored to her again ; not as he might have come, soiled and tarnished by his contact with the world, but a picture of manly beauty, with a heart as pure and unsullied as it was the day lie left her side ; and she realized at this moment the full force of this great blessing. When the mother told of the WTary years of waiting, and the bitter tears she had shed as she thought of what might be his tate, Charlie kissed her, and told her he would make her last days her best days. ^' IIow very tall you are, for a boy of sixteen," said his mother one day when they were alone together. I ill l i.lt I : -I, M-l H^: 1 1 ^' mi \nv 'tin i\ )\ Hi' ! : 51: ^i! 'II I ' \^ ml lil! ! > pill Ha i lliS THE CAIiEKU OF THE STOLEN IN)Y, CHARME. '" I luive lived uiuong tall ti'ecs and tall iiiown- tains," he said, laughing; and then more soberly, "Uncle AVilliaui calls me a boy, but he does not know that I have felt a man's responsibility for the last throe years." The beautiful mouth of May had come with its buds and flowers ; and the orchard near the house was white with ajiple-blossoms just ready to shed their bloom in a white carj)et on the ground. Three weeks had gone by since Charlie's return, and they had been so full of ])leasure that they passed away very swiftly ; but the young man was growing uneasy ; he had comj^arcd his mother's jjale, wan face with the picture taken twelve years ago, and had noticed that the bloom had faded from her cheek, and he was anxious to be at work, earning for her that home which had now become the goal of his ambition. The time he had spent in William Gordon's store and his year with John Norton had fitted him for a clerk's position. Helped by his uncle's influ- ence, he found no difficulty in obtaining a clerk- ship, which he retained for two years, saving quite irc4 Till-: CAUKKIi OF THE STOLKN BOY, CirARLIE. 12l> a sum each year. After tliis time an opportunity (^ff'ered to enga<^e in u business that brought him u hirgo sum of money in a sliort time. This business was traveling to sell musical instruments on com- mission ; his former wandering life had given him considerable knowledge of the country, and a nat- urally ]jlcasing address and ready fund of anecdote gained him admission where others would not have been received. He gave every energy to this busi- ness, and found it very prolitable. After he had spent two years as a traveling agent, he was able to furnish a humble home for his mother. He was very glad to be able to do this, for his uncle had taken another wife, and now tliat her brother no longer needed her services, she did not wish to remain a burden upon his charity. What a satisfaction it is to have a home of your own, be it ever so liumble — a place where you can do as you like, without fearing that some one will think yon are taking liberties — where yon know you are always welcome, and no one has a right to intrude upon you. To the mother who had been deprived of a home i if 1: !) \^ i\ n ^ I if; Si: •\ » M • ii : ■ 1 n ;i t > 5'1 :1* i*H Ii f' ; >t if' ' 1 P ■ 1 • '-i 4 ill ! t ft A ■ I ■ f:, i r k 1 ^uJ 1 V, loO THE CAULKIi OF Tilt: STOLKN BUY, CHAIii.li:. of lier own I'or iifteen years, this cluinge wu.s vt-rv gnitefiil ; to the young niiin who liad never telt the blessing of u liomo since he couhl remember, a little cottage furnished and supj)orted by liimself seemed a paradise of itself. When returning from his toil, the flutter of the white curtain through the partly open blind, and the j)orfume of the climbing rose by the door, brought to his mind a sense of possession fhat was very sweet. One evening while Charlie was chatting with his mother, something led them to refer to tlie past, and the conversation drifted back to the winter in the trapper's cabin ; this brought the deed to Char- lie's mind. Now lie had never mentioned this deed to any one since AVilliam Gordon re '■in'ned to the States. Shortly after his return from school, ho had mentioned the deed to his friend, and INfr. Gordon had then given it into his possession, with the remark that " he did not know as it was good for anything." He now mentioned it to his mother, and she, after examining the document, advised Charlie to write to the agency and see if he could learn any- thing about the trapper, and this he did at once. . '-' , TIIK CAKKKK (»F'' TllK hTOLEN DOY, CilAKLIE. I'M About, this time our hero uuule the acquuiiituiK'o of u youMf,^ hidy toward wliom he felt very iiiucli attrncted. For four years the love of a mother had seemed all that was necessary to his happiness; but tliesoeiety of the ()])posite sex had great attractions for him, and he soon overcame all the awkward- ness which his early training caused him to feel in polite society, while his sweet voice, genial dis])o- sition, and varied travels, made him a welcome guest at numy firesides. During his travels as a salesman he had met this lady, whom he thought was the one, of all others, necessary to his happiness. She possessed great beauty and intelligence, and the attraction between them was mutual. Three months acquaint- aiu-e served to convince this pair that they were intended for each other ; and the end of it all was, ii (juiet wedding one bright June morning in a small frame house in the valley of the Sacramento. After two or three weeks spent in farewell visits to the coni])anions of her girlhooil, Charlie brought his wile to San Francisco, and left her with his mother at the cottage on the hill, which overlooked the bay, n > ;"■ 1 1 '"'J'. \iH ) A m^ HI I!- H M n\ /WWW -rH it:; ■ ■( lljf m I If t' 132 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. while he still pursued his vocation of traveling agent. Charlie's mother was very much pleased with his choice, and it was very pleasant to her to have the companionship of a young girl to cheer the hours of loneliness when his business called him so m.uch from home. It seemed hard for this mother to be separated from her son at all, but he seldom remained away long at a time, and always left an address at which she could write to him. Ilis own letters to her were very frequent, and now the presence of his bright-eyed wife made her home very attractive. Charlie was a great lover of home, and the wan- dering life he had been forced to lead only served to make it dearer to him ; and now that he had taken a wife, he began to think seriously of seeking some other employment. It is true, the business in which he was engaged, furnished them with a comfortable support, but it had this drawback, that it took him so much from home. About three weeks after his marriage he received an answ^er to the letter he had sent to the agency. h t THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 133 ' wliere he liad first mtt tlie trapper. He had received no intelligence from this part of the coun- try since that day on which he had bid tlie trapi)cr and his pet pigeon good bye when he had expected to start for school at Des Moines. His letter now told him that his kind friend was dead ; that he had been killed by a falling tree ; and had perished with no one near him, but the dog wduch had been his companion for many years. The friendly Indians, he had often fed, had found his body, with the dog watching beside it, and buried it. This was sad news to our hero ; and ho recalled, with moistened eyes, the many little toys his kind friend had made for him ; and how he had striven in every manner to make that lonely cabin })leasant. His letter also stated that there was a deed on record giving the farm in Iowa to Charles E. Bur- ton ; that this ])erson had been advertised for, and the pr()])erty placed in the hands of an agent until an owner could be found. The farm had been divided into town lots, and the owner not appear- ing, the trapper's mother after being convinced ii H :i I* ■..•V; i\\ ) !U ^' ■4 ' \ i ■ •J , '■ • 14 m fit J 1 i*5 134 THE CAREEIi OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHAUIJE. tluit her sou was dead, bad signed a writing con- senting to the sale of some of these lots. Charlie sent a letter to the county recorder and obtained the address of the agent holding posses- sion of the property. It took several months to get at all of the facts of the case ; but the final result was very pleasing. The property was his, without doubt, after the death of the old lady, who was represented as very feeble, and very anxious to meet the young man, in whom her son had taken such an interest. The trapper had written to his mother, when he had failed to hear anything from "Weston, and had told her of the little boy to wdioni he had given the farm, after they had got through with it. The agent advised that Mr. Burton should come at once to Des Moines and prove his right. This piece of information came in good time. The little cottage on the hill was to be sold, and Charlie was expecting to be obliged to leave this home that had been so pleasant to him. With the prospect of a large fortune soon coming into his possession, our hero found no trouble in hiring money enough to purchase the cottage in which THE CARKER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 135 thej lived. Desiring a rest, and having enough money in tlie bank to pay the expenses of a trip to Des Moines, he decided to take his wife and go East. The completion of the Pacific Railroad had made such a journey nothing but a pleasure excur- sion, and the appearance of John Burton at the cottage, just at this time, removed the last obstacle in the way of the journey, that was — somebody to stay with his mother. Charlie had held a correspondence with his C)ld friends in the mines, and had often urged them to make him a visit ; but the time for visiting had not come for either of them. Now the camp in the Ciulch had been broken up; Sam Johnson had been killed in a drunken fight with another miner ; and Thomas Ilexford and John had made arrange- ments to commence the broker's business in San Francisco. Mr. Rexford had invested his bag of gold in bank stock in San Francisco, instead of sending it to the States as he had at first intended, and both he and John came to board with Char- lie's mother. Thcv had celebrated our hero's twenty-first birth. 4* H H;t Ijii : V '. ; * < it I*: 1 • ::>\i V !, 136 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. day, soon after John's arrival, and on the first day of the New Year, Charles R. Burton and wife took tickets in the palace car for Omaha. How different was this journey from the one he had made thirteen years before, as seen from the window of the palace car ; not only that everything was dressed in its winter robes, but the hand of time had wrought many changes. The same tall trees and mountains were there ; the same wonder- ful rocks, deej) canons, and dark ravines; but the former desolate region was enlivened by houses, shops, hotels, and the busy hum of life where only nature had been visible before; and where he had then made but twenty miles a day they passed over in an hour — each hour presenting some new feature ; now dashing through a tunnel, then a snow shed, up the steep mountain road, and again into a valley, until the level plains were reached. Charlie and his wife had risen earlv on the morn- ing that they crossed the plains, and were rewarded by seeing the sun rise in majestic glory from behind the mountains just visible in the dim distance ; b;v ■' ' THE CxVIlEER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 137 wliile the frightened biiffak.) and deer sciunpered awuv over the plains now wliite with snow. Ahjng the waste country lying between the Wasatch Range and the Rocky Mountains, they saw many beautiful, bright pink flowers growing in and through the snow, which were called snow flowers, and were very curious. They were a spe- cies of fungie, resembling somewhat the Indian pipes or convulsion weed which we find in swamps in the Eastern States during the spring. Arriving at Des Moines, he soon found the agent, and was received with all the deference due to the handsome property he was expected to inherit; from this person he learned the whereabouts of the trapper'' s mother. The agent, together with Charlie and his wife, paid a visit to the old lady to arrange the law mat- ters between them, for she was anxious to give up the property to her son's protogee, retaining for herself only a yearly income sufficient for her sup- port. She a-ave the younf]^ man and his beautiful wife a kindly wek-ome ; and inquired the name of his :! i 138 THE CAREf:R OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. parents, and his home in the East, tracing his ped- igree away back to his great grandfather, on his father's side, then embracing him with tears of joy slie exclaimed, "'Tis as I thought, you are the child of my youngest brotlier." Charlie had heard his Aunt Jane mentioned by his mother, but she had not been heard from for years, and was supposed to be dead. She told her listeners that she had gone West with some distant relatives, at the age of fifteen. The family had located themselves in Iowa, and built a cabin upon a tract of government land. When she was about seventeen, the house had been plundered and burned by the Indians. Her cousin and his son had fallen in the defence of their home, and his wife, who had been wounded, was dispatched by the tomahawk and thrown into the flames, while she had been carried away captive. She had been rescued by a trapper, who asked her to become his wife. They were married, and he had taken up the farm and built a sod-house upon it, and there .hey had dwelt happily together. They had been blest with two children, a girl 1 THE C'AKEEK OF THE STOLEN IJOY, CIIAKLIE. 139 and bov. ITcr dauffliter and husband had been removed by death before her son had reached his twelfth year ; but her son had always been good to her, and provided her with a comfortable home until that faUe-hearted girl had turned his head. He had taken after his father for hunting ; and although he never came home, or wrote to her much, she did not blame him ; he knew she had all she wanted. She had written once to her friends in the East, but not receiving any reply, she thought they had forgotten her. The old lady's health was rapidly failing, and she begged her new found relatives to remain with her to the last. This they did, her death occurring in three weeks after their arrival. After the funeral, the property, which was quite valuable, was all disposed of, making the fortunate owner worth forty thousand dollars, after all expenses were paid. This sum he placed on deposit with a reliable banking house, and started with his wife to visit the home of his boyhood. He soon found the city iu which he was born, and the one from which he % ' \l k" il if y if ^-i' 1 ' ii' 1^; 1 I i I !• i: If' 11:1 I, f!- ( ', J i I' > 1 5,' t '. i 140 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. had been stolen. Here he was able to point out to Minnie, his wife, the identical schoolhouse from which he had been abducted, the locality having been given him by his mother. There was no one in either place with whom he was acquainted, for his aunt and grandmother were both dead ; and after looking at the few houses,' which his mother's description had localized to him, and visiting the objects of interest to strang- ers, which both cities contained, they took a state room on one of the sound steamers for New York and from thence they traveled in the palace car to San Francisco, stopping by the way to visit the principal cities, that Charlie might decide where to locate his future home. In Chicago he met several gentlemen who were interested in mining, and were about forming a new company. Charlie became one of the com- pany, and was elected as its agent for the Golden State. The business arrangements all being coni- pleted, Charlie and his wife departed for their Western home. '•Wluit an eventful life I have had," said Char- 1 1 ^a THE CAREKR OF THE STOLEN BOY, CIIAKLIE. l-il lie, turning from the car window, to address his wife. "Yes," replied she. "It seems more like a story than reality." " I wonder how much more of tunmlt and change I shall have to pass through," said he, gaznig intently at the distant hills, now bathed in tlie slanting rays of the setting sun. " Oh ! we will hope for a brilliant life and hai)py days. We are both young and nniy have a long life before us; we certainly have a very fair in-os- pect." Minnie Burton had a hopeful nature, and always looked on the bright side of things. "When I get home I shall have to go to mining; how will you like to exchange city life for the rough mining districts, and no society to speak of?" "I think it will be splendid! I always loved rough scenery, and as for society, I shall have you mv dear, and I will ornament our home with the curious things which are always so^ plenty in nuning regions. n "What a surprise for mother we shall have, !r. '/ ;. , I. :i »;' Hi i 'ill I ■ Si ^:i 1 hn^f ■ \f ■ / S ■ I ili' ; ; r! i I' 142 'niE CAREER OF THE STOLEN UOY, CHARLIE. •when we tell lier ubout Aunt Jane. I have not ■written ubout this, there was so much to tell — and that poor fellow who did so much for me, was my own cousin." " See that steamer, Charlie." Minnie was point- ing down the Mississippi, for the train was nearing the river, and steamers were passing in both direc- tions. The one that attracted Minnie^s attention was just coming towards the great bridge that spans the river, and would have to pass under the bridge, while the cars were going over it. Minnie felt some curiosity to know how the steamer could pass the bridge without its being withdrawn ; and while her husband was explaining that the bridge was built high enough not to interfere with the steamer, the handsome boat passed up the river directly under the car window, making a very fine picture. They were soon passing over the same streams, past the same landmarks, and close to the road that he had traveled over with the Mormon emi- grants. A few days more and they were at the little cottage on the hill, where they were received with a glad welcome from the waiting mother. ■ . TlIK CAREER OK THE STOLEN lioV, ClIAKLIK. 14o Not many (hiysiiftor tlieir return they bade Jolm Burton good-bye on the deck of tlie mail steamer, wishing liim good hick, fnr he had decided to return to tlie States. In a week there came another i)arting, for Mr. Burton and liis wife were obliged to leave tor the distant mountain region, in the northern part of the State ; but before they went, they assisted at the ])rivate wedding of Mary Burton and Thomas Rex- ford ; and Charlie made the happy pair a present of tlie cottage on the hill. . .„-^ fj ( I !■■ k I. 1i 1 ''* 111 i73( i Wr .1 i \\ ■ I It Jill V 1 "1?: ' .»^^ CHAPTER X. " Oh, there in a Holemn peoce, ami HtreuRtli Bublimo, And holy fortitiulc, and Hvv\), Hwcet rcRt III nil our thouKhtH and vIkIoub of that cliiuo Where dwell the HjiiritH of the loved and V)leHt. In every hut^ of ^dadHonie heauty drent, They eonie aerosH our hearlH like KleaniH of lif^hf FrauKht with a misHiou, at God's hifrh hehcHt — A iniHHion to relieve our mental sight liy ghinpHea of a life where all Ih calm and bright." — Floweu Vask. i,IIE marriage of Charlie's motlier came about very suddenly to all concerned; but the bridegroom urged that as they had known each other l(jr many years, and were both advanced in life, there was no need of along courtship; and as Charlie and his wife were both intending to leave her so soon, the bride was more willing to consent. The next morning after the wedding, Charlie Burton and wife started for the mines, for which he was to act as suj)erintendent and business agent. 1 f ■H s I THE CAKEEK OF THE STOLEN BOV, CHARLIE. 145 They woro situjited on the banks of tlie Yiibii liivcr, and the journey, whicli was partly by rail and partly by stage, occupied five days. A snudl lionse was obtaiiicd about three miles from the mines, and furnished plainly, and tliis place, which was to be their home, Minnie at once set herself at wcn'k to render cheerful in every possible man- ner. The walls, which were of matched boards, and were not ])apered, she hung with pictures which they Inul brought from the city. The win- dows were curtained with plain white muslin, trim- med with lace knit bv her own fair linurers, while the chintz-covered lonnii^e and cushioned rocker were made more tasty by the addition of the em- broidered tidies which had been the wedding gifts of her young lady friends. Three boards, of grad- uated length, finished on the edge by strii)s of leather, making an indented or scalloped edge, stained black and varnished, made a very pretty bookshelf, when held in place by strong cords. They had reached their stopping-place near the last of February, and the rainy season, which had jnst set in, ke])t Minnie nearly all the time within • ih V^i '■ . ^ .-'I Ml I ■} n Hi; i ■ : !ft 1,1' 1 ;it it';! ) 1 ! •l'\ 'I s ! , if Mj' : i I r 140 THE CA.KEER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. dooia, and she spent !icr lonely hours in adding to the oeautj of their home. The Idnd of mining which this company engaged in. was called placer mining by hydraulic force. This is considered the most thorough system of placer mining, for large quantities of earth are washed down in a short space of time by the force of a very heavy pressure of water. Streams of great volume are led into ditches and flumes, from great distances and high altitudes, to a large reser- voir, or other conlining points ; and from here they arc led through large pipes, down mountain sides, up over steep hills, finally to the distributing- points, where the pent up volume is allowed to rush against the side of a hill, with great force, through a small pipe not more than ten inches in diameter, carrying everything before it. By this means whole hills are washed down, and the waste water, dirt, rocks and debris are at last lead through long flumes, subdivided, and continued in some cases many niiles. The gold is caught on the bottom of the flume, which is composed of two bottoms, one made of five or six inch thick pieces Tin-: CAREER (H<^ THE STOLEN ]]0Y, CHARLIE. 147 of timber, sawed iVoni tlie ends of logs, and placed ill the bottom of the flume for riffles, and to protect it against wear from the rocks that pass through it. It took some time to get everything ready for operation; and then six months passed before a clean-up was thought desirable. The clean-up took eight weeks, and was conducted in the following manner : All of the water, or nearly all, was shut off, and the log ends pulled out from the bottom of the flume, and the settled ore and sand were allowed to work gradually off by forcing a small stream of water through the flume, thus carrying to its jnouth the bulk of the dirt, and at convenient distances wide water-platforms were placed witli riffles or strips nailed closely together, being not over one and a half inches apart, and over this the sediment was flnaliy washed, and thus the gold was saved. The result of nearly nine months' labor was a small dividend after paying all of the costs. Our hero found his work very conflning, but he received a good salary, and was intending to remain it it j:?;i r - !1 ir ' ^ ' I 14S THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. aiiotlier year at this place ; but just at this time a groat excitement was raised among the miners in the neighborhood by the silver discoveries of Nevada. There was a great rush for tlie new dig- ghigs, and for a while men could not be found to work the mines near the Yuba. Charlie at last became infected with the prevailirg fever of enii gration, and soon gave up liis situation and joined the crowd that were pushing into Washoe County. A twenty-four hours' ride by railroad brought ]\Ir. and Mrs. Burton to Virginia City. They found more men already gathered here than could iind employment, and leasing a hotel they com- menced the business of en*^^ertaining guests. This they found very successful, for Charlie proved a most agreeable host, and Minnie showed herself capable of ruling a large number of servants in the verv best manner. In this position Charlie was able to obtain a great deal of information about mining and stocks, and saw a great deal of life under different phases. Among his guests were some who had grown rich in u single week through successful speculation, and i; u •>} THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 149 others holding stocks, which had cost them thou- siuids of dolhirs, but which how paid ho dividend, were ghid to barter them for the means to return to their friends in the East. One poor fellow, who had left Charlie's house with full pockets and a light heart, returned at niirht askino; to be trusted for his board until he could earn the means of paying it. lie had met w^itli sharpers, while waiting for the cars, who had found means to fleece him of his hard-earned gains. In a shc-rt tiine, our hero had accumulated suffi- cient wealth to enable him to spend the rest of his life in comparative ease, and finding a favorable opportunity to sell his interest in tl hotel, he did so, and with his wife returned to San Francisco. lie had invested his surplus funds with the most reliable bankers in Virginia City, and with the money obtained from the sale of the hotel business he built a handsome residence in San Francisco, where lie and Minnie expected to spend long years in hapjnness. This beautiful home was richly furnished. The library contained a full collection of books and I It r. * 1 i: 'I 'h ) If ;i.-i. ■ 152 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE, glorious sunset and sunrise scenes, and saw the great valleys, and the bay spread out before them. Thc}'^ wandered through the Petrified Forest, visited the mud baths at Paso Pobbs, and spent days and weeks at some of the most famous water- ing places in the State. After crossing a succession of low hills covered with oaks our part}^ ascended Mt. Diablo, where they remained all night and listened to the Indian legend which tells us that the country west of the Sierra Nevada Mountains was once covered with water, and the top of this mountain was tlien a little island. At this period, says the legend, the devil was there imprisoned by the waters for a long time, and therefore great prosperity and (piiet resulted to mankind, which caused his name to be given to the mountain. Seeking the Yosemite Valley they visited the Bridal Tail Falls, Cathedral Rocks and Three Brothers, pausing to rest at the various hotels and ranches where travelers were entertained. Minnie enjoyed these travels, and was never THE CAREER OF THE STOLEX BOY, CHARLIE. 153 tired of listening to the falling water or gazing at the high towenng cliffs. They lingered in the valley to visit the South Dome, the Clouds' Eest and the foot of the Up])er Yoseniite, taking in the gradually growing wonders of the place. To Minnie, who had lived almost wholly in the city, the life at the ranclie possessed almost as much interest as the beautiful scenes through which they were passing ; the waving fields of grain, the orchards loaded with fruit, and the many vineyards where grape raising was brought to the highest perfection. They examined Bower's Cave, which they found to be an innnense and pic- turesque crack or sink in the solid limestone of the mountain top, into which one -might descend to an irregular bottom, about a hundred feet square, and in a corner of which is a small and beautiful lake. They then passed on to the groves of mammuth trees, where they saw one, the prostrate trunk of wdiieh was liolhvv for three hundred feet and larii'e enou^'h to admit two horsemen abreast, with an opening in its side large enough fur one to pass out at a lime. There were trees standinii: that '1 I*- fJli i|i1 ■ If Hw » ■ l^^l I :i 4 i H ft?. 151 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. were suul to be from twolmndred and fifty to tliree liuiidred feet biglh Tliej visited tlie Xatnml Bridges which Charlie liad passed in liis journey to tlie mining camj) by tlic river. Tliey found the place mucli improved, and a cabin at the entrance ready for tlio weary travelor to eat his hmclieon and rest, while an entertaining old gentleman told them how he came to live here, all about the bridges and the forma- tions, which 111. had watched, etc., and furnished torches with which to explore the sj^ot. Minnie and Charlie listened w^ith awe and won- derment while the old man pointed out rocks on which lie had watched the crystallizing substance forming for twenty years, and in this long time only a thin coating had been obtained, and Charlie found himself attempting to make a computation of liow long these bridges might have been forming, from the substance formed each year, but he stopped appalled, for his calculations led him back over three million vears. The old man told of n, time when he had mined under those bridges and killed deer in these parts. 'tfi / THE CAKEKll < )F THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. loa After fcaslinii' their eyes on tlicse scenes as long as tliey wislied they de[)arted to visit other scenes, ending their travels at the beautiful Lake Tahoe, whose placid clear surface retlected the snow-capped snniniits of the surrounding mountains. Speckled trout gliding through the water were visible, and the pebbles on the slanting bottom near the shore could be plainly seen at the depth of one hundred and fifty feet. Leaving this beautiful scene they were descend- ing the steep mountain road in a stage coach when an accident occurred which came near pr^^■ill^• fatal to some of the party on the s})ot, and did cause the death of others not long after. AVIien near the foot of the mountain, just as they had reached a sharp turn in the road, the driver, who had been di-inking, carelessly allowed his reins to dro]) from his hand, and they becoming eiitangled with the horses feet caused them to stumble, and the stage was overturned. All fehe passengers were ba! [HI I I i i ^1! : IS Hi Hi nil! if n i I ^!! • 1 -}'■ > ! ■. CIIAPTEE XL " Light came from darkness, gladness from despair, As, wliou the sunlight fadeth from the earth, Star aficr star comes out upon the sky, And shining >'nrlds, that had not been revealed In day's full light, ftre then made manifest." S OUR litTo took liis place once more ill the busy ranks of lite, his sorrow assumed a more subdued tone, and he found a mehxncholy pleasure in imagining his lost wife ever near him, guiding his thoughts and prompting him to aspirations after a higlier life. Some lives seem full of hardship and trial, but each bitter lesson, if used aright, has its purpose in forming our character or stimulating us to higher achievements. At the end of three weeks Charlie's preparations were all made, and he left the city by the Southern ^mH' *. i .\ vv. tAt ^ THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE, 101 Pacific route and crossed the Sandy Desert of Cali- fornia, where he saw multitudes of " desert pahn," a green tree or plant growing from six to twenty- five feet high, with leaves green and thick, which are used for making paper. This tree is said to bear a seed similar to the fruit of the banana. There were many other species of trees and millions of cactus plants in tree and bush height, while for miles and miles it was sand, sand, sometimes drifted up in heaps, that looked like snow-baiiks glistening in the sun. He reached Yuma after traveling over 750 miles by rail, and was not sorry to be obliged to wait two days for^the steamer by which he was to continue his journey up through the grand canons of the Colorado. At the liotel at w^hich he stopped he became acquainted with a gentleman from the States, who was, like himself, seeking the mining regions, and the two soon became firm friends. Passing up the Colorado they were interested in the landsca])e on both sides of the river, and spent a great deal of their time in examining, through the captain's r^ ' .ii . '1 • ,.:« '^U ; f Jl 'iil 162 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. field glasses, the curious cactus plants along the shore. One large species, called the Suarra, was from twenty-five to fifty feet high, full of sharp, green thorns, and looked like a log set up endways in the ground. Some of these had a few branches extending from their ugly stalks, but they were nearly all single shafts. The "Petayas," which were in bloom, had flow- ers of the most brilliant pink and magenta tints, and the captain told them that this species bears a very palatable fruit, which is pear-shaped, of a pink color, and considered a great delicacy by both the Indians and whites. Then there was the niggcr- head, or water cactus, clinging to the side of the r(.)cks, and resembling what the ladies in the East- ern States raise in their flower-pots and call Turk's Head, (mly much larger. These, they were told, contained from four to five quarts of watery fluid, which is often very acceptable to the thirsty trav- eler when no other water can be had. The settlements along the river were mostly of Indians. They were very industrious, and cut and THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 163 ' sold wood to tlio steamer. The kiiid-licarted captain had taught tlieiii to use tlie axe, and bonglit tlieir wood, trking ten cords at a time, at two dolhirs ])er cord. Thcv also cultivated small f-irms, and their wheat, planted in hills, showed large heads and stalks, while in some places sqnashes and melons were large and plenty. The flora and fauna of this far-off country was a study in itself, and Charlie counted ten different varieties of cactus, every one covered with sharp, green thorns. On reaching the height of steamboat navicration our liero and his friend struck out across the coun- try on foot, the mining region which they were looking for being forty miles distant, and tlu^re was no public conveyance, the mails being carried to the interior on. mule-back. The Indians had so long held the prospector in a state of fear, and so many unfortunate individ- uals had lost their lives, that the very name of Apache had become a synonym of terror and cruelty, and oui- travelers received a great numy hints that they were about to start on a very danger- ous journey; but they were well armed, and Charlie • f.i li > i? I; I'ih l^ I :1 ■ ■! ' I' ■If ij.li \m \ \ I I i 1 ■ i h . i J' "iv ^ ! 16-i THE CAREER OF TUE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. at least felt no fear, for he had all his life been accustomed to danger and privation. They were not molested during their journey, and found considerable pleasure in examining the '-'Auchoyas^^'' which were two distinct species of cactus common to the country, and in listening to tlie stories about the '* Road-Runner," a bird about the size of the partridge, of a bluish-gray color with speckled wings, which were told them at the small adobe house where they stopped to obtain refreshment and rest. It was said that these birds were determined and aggressive enemies of the rattlesnake, and that they would search diligently for the snake, and, when found, commence their attacks by flying or hopping around it until the enemy was rendered dizzy by their circling motions ; then, by an instinct purely their own, they pounce down, striking the snake directly on the top of the head with their beak, killing him instantly. They also have another very novel plan, which is to collect the broken brandies of the auchoya and lay them quietly around a sleeping snake in piles, and when THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 165 tlieir enoiiij is fullj snrroimded they drop one of these iieedlo-pointed thorn stems on their vic- tim's liead, rousing liim from his slumbers with a terrible squirm, and by this device entangling him in a nest of the sharpest thorns. Hovering around their helpless victim they watch his struggles, and if the thorns do not finish him, a blow on the head from their long sharp bills completes the work. After the snake is killed the bird cats a portion of it and then strolls oif at a fast walk to find some other pastime. Tlie country Ivino; between the Colorado River and the Peacock Mountains is crossed by different ranges, and some of these are divided by broad valleys. The mineral-bearing mountains are the second range from the river, and are a branch from the Cordillers. Here our travelers found a small village in a very rough state of civilization. It contained a post-ofiice, and one store, kept by a Jew, who retailed a few of the necessaries of life at enormous prices, and plenty of whisky. The residents were half breeds, Indians, Chinese and a few Americans. But it furnished a sto[)ping-place .^ m^H m 'it ll) .. ■;» ;\i I- lU 166 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. at which our travelers could obtain coarse food and shelter at the rate of ten dollars per week, while they took a view of the country and found a place to locate thcniselves. Charlie wrote often to his mother, and she felt pleased to read the cheery tone of his letters, for it told her that he had in a measure forgot his absorb- ing grief in the new scenes by which he was sur- rounded. Having been acquainted with mining from his boyhood, lie found no trouble in securing some verv rich mines, but their distance from the lines of transportation made the cost of working them very heavy, and he missed the refinements of civil- ization to which he had for some time been accus- tomed, while the constant diet of bacon, beans and coffee, without any other vegetable or fruit, seemed almost like starvation to one who had enjoyed the man}' luxuries to be obtained in San Francisco. The mines which Charlie and his friend had located were situated about eight miles beyond the village in which they found an abiding place, and a fine spring furnished them with water for all $ THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 167 needful purposes. The two men soon decided that it was useless to undertake to work the mines without machinery of their own, and they at last determined that Mr. Smithson (this was his friend's na,nie) should go East and try to raise a company of capitalists to work this grand area of mineral wealth. During the absence of Mr. Smithson, Cliarlie s})ent his time prospecting and laying ])huis for the future. He had removed to another town or \illage in order to be nearer the mines. This place ]ie found had once been a thriving village, but owing to the liigh prices of provisions and tlie liardships of frontier life it was now almost deserted, but it still contained a post-office and a few very line American families. In one corner there was a burial-place which contained fifteen graves, many < •f wliom had died violent deaths from causes pro- duced by the common practice of drinking whisky. Charlie soon became quite a favorite among the better class of people in the village, and quiltings, surprise parties, dinners and musical entertain- ments tilled up thelong winter evenings and helped r. if ' \ t p- 168 THE CAKEEIl OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. to make tlie time pass pleasantly while waiting for his partner's return. In a few months Mr. Smithson returned, liavin^- been very sv "ossf in formim;' a coi ipany to work the niiiies, an ' hnw hig with him a large quantity of provisions, .aiich ^Iped to make their lli'c more endurable. Active preparations were now commenced ; the site of a new city or town was laid out and a com- pany of miners set to work to get out the mineral ready to be turned into bullion by the twenty stamp mill, which was expected to arrive ' i course of a few months. A stone house was soon in ]")rocess of construc- tion to accommodate Charlie and his partner, with such of their company as they would have to find homes for. Situated in a canon among the high mountains, near which Charlie's company had located their new city, was a small collection of adobe houses styled a town, and this contained the post-office at which Charlie was wont to receive his letters. Among Till'- CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 169 tliL' residents of t]''s village was a man whom we will call Leecliveiji. This man was a fugitive from jns*'c*e, and possessed a very sullen and morose disposition. lie was both disliked and feared by the better class of the neighborliood, but he man- aged to draw around him the thieves and gamblers from quite a distance, and these ''rov^'h ' often helped him to do considerable nusr^' i«..' in return for the bad whisky with which he \>v[d aen. In the same village lived Henry 1: •-^-'back, whose only son had fiillen a victim to Leechvein's wiles, and had been killed in a drunken fight many years before Charlie came to the neighborhood. This man had conceived a great liking for our hero, and he was noted for being a warm friend or bitter enemy. One day, just as the slanting rays of the setting sun were reflected on the sloping sides of the rocky hills which surrounded the little town, Charlie reached the post-oitice, keenly anxious for letters from his mother and John. He had not been able to leave his work at an earlier hour, and he waited until it was quite dark, but no mail appeared ; and ■4;.;, Hi .'1 ■>! If •' ,U: ^tl i;t: m \ 1 1 170 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. very much disappointed he was walking liomeward at a brisk pace when just as he had arrived in front of Leechvein's dwelling the door opened and a stream of light penetrated the darkness while a voice exclaimed in oily tones : "St(jp a moment, Mr. Burton! Come in and take a drink ; it will give you courage to travel this lonely mountain path." '' No, I thank you. I do not drink unless I need it, and then only water." " Humph ! so you feel above us miners, don't you ( May be you will be compelled to do as I say about it!" advancing t(jwards our hero with a scowling visage and a volley of oaths. Cluirlie did not remain to hear any more, but kept ou his way with hasty footstep^*, for he did not wish to be drawn into a drunken row. Just at this moment a voice sounded in the dark- ness — "Wait up a bit, Charlie." lie halted, for he at once recognized the voice of his friend Palm- back. "What's the row down to old Leeches?" he inquired ; whereupon Charlie told him the story of I' ■■ : J J I) \ > ^ V-i ■if !■ Mi 1 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 171 liis encounter with the proprietor of the whisky den. "He is after you, my boy, and you had bet- tur not travel this patli alone. I have been out looking for my horses in the ravine, and so am late myself; but there is no end to the mischief Leech- vein and his ' Peons ' (slaves) manage to accomplish after dark, and then it is all laid to the Indians." They had reached Palmback's house and he li.'id invited our hero to remain with him all night, which he did, and found him to be a must agree- able host. In the morning Charlie spoke of returning to the post-oflice to see if the mail had arrived, and Palmback offered to accompany him, saying that he had business that way. They reached the p(jst-office, where Charlie found his long-delayed letters, and as they were return- ing Leechvein came out and followed them, shaking his fists and calling Charlie vile names. Pahnback stepped to the rear and dealt the villain a stunning blow, which felled him to the ground, where they left him tu reflect, as Palmback termed it. \t' !'<■:. 17- TllH CAREER OF TIIK STOLEN BOY, (JIIAKLIE. The iiL'xt day u tbuntaiii or spring, at wliieh sev- eral neigUborinjLC tainilies drew tlieir water, was 8to])pe(l up and claimed by Leechvciii as his prop- erty. He said he sIkjuUI only perinit his friends to draw water there. Palmbaek was obliged to use this fountain, and he inunediatelj tore down all the obstructions and obtained the water just as he had done befui'o. To the Surprise of all his enemy made no attempt to stop him, but Palmback felt sure he was studying up some new mischief, and he caused a close watch to be kei)t upon his enemy's movements. An Indian whom he had in his employ soon informed him that an impromptu breastworks had been thrown u\) in a path which he often traversed in going to and from some "pockets " which he was Working in the mountain. He said the w^ork looked like Indians, and there were moccasin tracks around the spot, but he knew that Lcechvein had been out prospecting and had worn moccasins. The next night would be moonlight, and Palm- back, who was of a venturesome disposition, resolved to try the nature of the mountain fort. I THE CARKKli OK TlIK STol-KN IJoY, CHAIil.ir.. 173 He took i){irticular pains to have it known in the village that he was going over the mountains to return a borrowed liorse. Just at niglittUll lie ])assed through the village mounted on one horse and leading another. Just before reaching the su])i)osed ambuscade lie arranged a straw effigy of liiniself, upon wliicli he phiccd his own liat and coat, and this figure he securely tied to liis well- broke horse, which he started at a shiw walk past the fort, following himself at a safe distance. The straw man sat erect and rode straight ahead. Bang, bang, went a double-barreled shot-gun, the bullets striking the ail^gy in the back and cutting the cords which held it in the saddle, while the startled horse s})rang ahead, shaking the supposed corpse from its back, and with a snort of fear strik- ing out for his home. Then from his concealment sprnng the would-be murderer to gloat over his falle.. foe, but at this moment, bang w^nt three shots I'iOm the revolver of the straw man's spirit^ and Leechvein w^as past loing any more injury. Palmback straightened out his body and folded his hands across his breast, then he mounted hid 1 ■]! • . • I'"' f 1 'I I J. ' s ! I .1 , i I h' i^;:i! j!' lil;! .■ t ' if ■ I .1 ■ife 174 tup: career of the stolen boy, ciiarlie. reiiuiiniiig horse, wliicli had been hitched in the ravine, and rode homeward, leaving his straw effigy to be seen by the first investigator. The next day the missing whisky dealer could not be found, and Palmback notified the authorities that he had been fired upon from the cliff, and that he had shot the person who fired upon him. They repaired to the spot and there found Leech vein's body stiff and cold. Palmback was acquitted on the plea of self- defense, and most of the neighbors were glad to be rid of one who had gained his living by preying upon others. » • ill the straw conld CHAPTER XII. "Wait thou for Time, but to thy heart take Faith, Soft beacon-hght upon a Ktormy sea: A mantle for the pure in li<'art, to pasH Through a (hm world, mitouched by living death, A cheerful watcher through the npirit'H night, Soothing the grief from which Hhe may not flee— A herald of glad newH— a Bcraph bright. Pointing to sheltering havens yet to be." — Miss Lucy HoorER. FEW weeks after the tragedy in the village, which had seemed to grow out ol* Charlie's refusal to drink, but which was really the end of years of vengeful feeling treas- ured in the heart of Palniback toward one who liad been tlie means of causing the death of his only son, Charlie received the news that his step- tather had failed in business, and lost everything except the handsome residei.ce where Charlie had lived so happily one short year; and this letter was soon followed by another, which told that the V I 1 ' »l i tM- :|U ^!ii; ,;' r( ili|-i \ !- 17t) THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. old man liad sunk under liis misfortunes, the trouble having produced brain fever ; and his mother was airain a widow. He imniediatelj wrote to her, that when he could make a comfortable home for her in this new region he would come and bring her to it, and that meanwdiile he would supply her with sutK- cient means to keep her comfortable. He had now an object to spur him on besides his mere personal interests. lie was determined to fulfill the promise he had made his mother — ''That her last days should be her best days." The engrossing duties of his business soon drove away all sadness from his mind, and he became the life of the new circle of friends which he found himself amongst, while the brilliant pros- pects before him filled his heart with bright hopes for the future. The Indians were quite plenty in the neighbor- hood, and they would often come around and beg for something to eat, for they are always hungry, and consider the '^IllcJcoes^^ (white men) are sent on purpose to feed them. For a good dinner they •a l:»: lij-*. THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 177 will gather wood, cut it, carry water, and run on errands. Begging is one of their long-established customs. They do not steal, if they think they are liable to be found out. In this virtue they resemble their white brethren. By the laws of their tribe, stealing is punished by death. One of the villagers stole a buffalo-robe that an Indian had hid in a cave — cashed, he called it. On discovering the offender he inmiediately raised his ritle to shoot him, but was prevented and taken before the court. He testified that his people always killed a man that stole ; and he could not be pacified until he was promised that the bad man should be banished. They are very anxious to convince the Ilickoes that they do not lie; and as a general thing they keep their promises. In the new store-house were gathered Mr. Smithson and our hero, with four men who were em])loyed at the mines, and an Indian whom Char- lie had taken into his employment. This Indian he found very useful tis an assistant in the kitchen, for he was fur many luonths his own housekeeper, 1^ m f) f. T ? i^^i «. i i::;ll ;.] t i . ! ni ■ ? L;^ I nt t ■ / ' 1 i f I !iii ^1 » 1 ) \U ■» " ■;ll ',4 :fe >. I' ITS THE CAIiEKK OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. and he also served liini as a guide in the journeys through the country, whic]i his business often .caused him to make, sometimes on foot and some- times in tlie four-mule team which his company had sent for his use. This Indian was well versed* in the legends and manners of the country, and often made their lonely rides or walks interesting by the tales of the adventures and suflerings of the early pioneers, and the habits and legends of his own tribe, which he told in short sentences and broken English Durino; the fortv miles ride between the river shore and the new city the country was very dry and ])arched, and the tall mountains, which had stood in the burning sun for ages, presented a dark and forbidding aspect, calling forth tales of men who, in prospecting in this barren region, had been unable to find water, and had gone mad, and died in three days from thirst. '"But," the Indian added, "Great Spirit good. Tell his own children where to find water." Tnen he pointed out the paths or trails which ]v.d tci the naturj 1 tanks or reservoirs, which have THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 170 been formed in the solid rock by the wear of streams of water running into it. Here the all-wise Creator has caused these nat- ural cisterns to be formed and filled by the heavy rains, and they hold a sufficient quantity to supply the i)lace of springs and streams when no rain falls. The Indians are familiar with these tanks, and they utilize the localities as hunting-grounds for deer, quails and other animals which frequent them to quench their thirst. This tribe— the Mohaves — have a legend that thu Ilickoes were formerly a part of the same great tribe to which their forefathers belonged; but for disobeying the commands of the great chief who ruled tliem, they were banished bevond the sea, from which they have since cen permitted to return to feed and care for tlu/ copper-coloruti brethren. ♦ Tliey do not seem to be over dened with self- esteem ; but are servants, and us such are quite willing to remain. In their prospecting tours they often came upon .1 mt 1I?1 r -I f» J ... !f ji I 51 ' j!. ■' I. <■ \ / I: r 1 > 1 MS :i\ i- lit i' i }' 'U? ISO THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. Aztec ruins, which tlie Mohiive said belonged to a race wlio were neither Ilickoes or Mexicans, bnt Indians with white hair, who came originally from the " spirit land." Among these ruins were found pieces of colored pottery, still retaining a gloss and perfection of polish that attested the superiority of the manufac- turers over the natives of the present day; and the broken ruins of dwellings, three, four, and even five stories higli, well-built and planned with arch- itectural skill, still remain to tell the story of a superior people. In the partly worked mines, stone hatnmers, picks and rudely constructed mining tools were found, which the Indian claimed were left by the white-haired or spirit Indians of former days. The wonders of a strange land are full of interest to the new-comer, and the awe-inspirhig grandeur of the mountain scenery, when looked upon for the first time, is delightful to behold ; but to the miner, who has constantly such scenes before him, they Jose their interest ; liis mind becomes absorbed with the brilliant hopes leading ! i 'I -IS THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE, ISl liim on, and the lundscupe, wliicli once seemed so beautiful, becomes tame and unattractive ; niirlit finds liim weary, and after a supper of beans and bacon he soon forgets his surroundings and permits sleep to lead him into the land of dreams. Every strange object met with was of special interest to Charlie and Mr. Smithson, and often formed the subject of conversjition when these two men were not engaged with the business which brought them to this distant region. The other four men foii ;id more pleasure in discussing the particular kind of rocks on which they were at work, and how far this or that ])ar- ticular vein of gold or silver was supposed to extend ; and they sometimes greeted their em- ployers with, "Struck it rich, to-day ; " and then would follow accounts of the ricli vein of Horn silver which had been found, and samples of the ore would be ])roduced to attest the truth of the statements. These samples were afterwards fur- warded to the companv in the East, and the assav satisfied them that their agents had not misrep- resented the property. I i i.1 1 4. I 182 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. i ^ U; •i 11 ( - ; « ]■'.-■ [ [* 4 '5 1 Ms! Mi' t ! ; i • im :',V h if: ■ I* I.' I Sometimes the miners spent their evenings in growling at the lack of good company, or the plentitude of rattlesnakes and centipedes; but none of them received any injury from these tj'oublesome reptiles. Charlie spent all his leisure la writing to his mother and John Burton ; and every letter was rich in descriptions of the new country, which was an almost unknown region to his correspondents ; and in return he received news from the States and the Pacific Coast. He had formed a warm friendship with one of the families at the first town at wdiich he had tarried, and with three families at the old town or village 1 carest to them ; and when the stone-house was linishod he invited these friends to meet him at what he called a tea-party. This n:ieal, which was planned, cooked and served bv our hero alone, we will describe. The party of ten sat down at three and left the table at half-past four. The first course consisted ol^ chicken fricassee, roast beef (a la mode), with squash, potatoes and pickles, coff'ee, tea, hot buns, bread, butter, and honey. '^Ue second course, of fruit of THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 183 cake, jelly cake, caraway cookies, cheese, canned blackberries, peaches, and lemonade niiide from canned lemon sugar. Third course, berry pie, fresh apples, pears, walnuts, and lemonade. ITis neighbors loaned him dishes; and the ladies of the party praised each course, and aj.ked for receipts for making the fruit and jelly cake. The young ladies helped to clear away the table, and wash the dishes; and the whole company had a merry time. Quartz mining is usually an uncertain undertaking and is sometimes attended with heavy losses and vex- atious disappointments. The miner, in looking for a quartz vein m some places where the ledges ap- pear above ground, digs a j)lace or sinks a hole beside the ledge of rock, and examines the soil around it and in it. Tests it sometimes with a pan and water, or by crushing a little of the rock in an iron mortar and washing it in a pan to see if gold will settle. All (juartz veins, of any richness, have to be tun- neled into, or shafts sunk, to get below the surface ; tliis requires slow and costly labor, drilling, blast- ing, and hoisting the rocks out of the mines. The ^ u; 4. I / ' t'l . 1' ) 'HI Hm \\ M U vt li V ! 184 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. seam or ledge of gold is sometimes very narrow, and large quantities of rock wliicli docs not carry gold has to be displaced before that which does can be reached. Mnch labor and money also has been wasted in tunneling mines that produced com- paratively nothing. "When a mine is found that will pay from fifty to eighty dollars per ton of milling ore or rock, then mills or arrasters are erected to work it. Some mills have been built at the spot where quartz has been found, and after a short time abandoned, because the vein had run out and no more mineral could be found. The safest way is to erect arras- ters that are cheap, and by this plan test a mine fully before building a mill. Nearly all the early mining in Arizona was done in this manner; for the cost of transportation rendered it impossible for any but wealthy companies to import an expensive mill to the spot. All quartz mills are run by steam or water, and the rock to be crushed is shoveled into the battery a little at a time, and this battery, or stamps as they are generally called, is composed of heavy L* u. TIIK OAKEKR OF THE STOLEN UOY, CHARLIE. 1S5 roHud l)ars of iron, twenty feet long and two and a halt' to three inches in diameter, with solid, heavy shoes or dies ut the bottom, making the weight of each stamp about eight liundretl pounds. A ten stamp mill has ten of these bars arranged side l)y side, about one foot apart; a twenty stamp mill has twenty, and so on. These heavy stamps are raised by cams, two on a shaft, and as the stamps set ])er])endicularly, confined to pass up and down— the shaft runs horizontally, and each cam raises the stamp and slips off, letting the stamp fiiU of its own weight some eighteen inches. The cams arc placed about half way between the bottom and the top of the stamps, and are quite close to the n})right bar. A device for the cam to bear against is bolted to the stamp rod, and this is the method of raising. The sides of the compartments are so arranired as to keep the rock rolling under the heavv iron shoes at the bottom of the stamps, and the rock, which is powdered almost as fine as flour, passes out by the force of the stamps through a screen. The stani])s fall quite fast, and will each crush a ton ])cr day. ':8«a IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. :/. % 1.0 I.I l^|2B |2.5 2.0 lU U4 ■ 40 1.8 1.25 1.4 —ill 6" - ► V] <^ % o 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. M580 (716) 872-4S03 f i ■ * '\ 1 I I 1^ V ISG THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. This dust or powder passes into large iron tub- sliaped vessels, two and a half feet deep, culled amalgamating pans or settlers ; these pans are of different sizes, but generally four and a half feet in diameter. Water is mixed with the dust or powder, and quicksilver is put in the pans or tubs, while stirring machinery, attached to these fans, keep the dust in motion so as to collect all the gold and quicksilver in the bottom of the pans; and the slums, which is called trailings, is allowed to run off. The quicksilver is called amalgam, because it holds all the gold and looks like quicksilver, just the same ; this is now taken out by devices to hold it, and poured into a heavy, stout canvas funnel-shaped bag ; then the straining commences, which is separating the gold from the quicksilver, by squeezing the quicksilver all out and saving it to use again ; the gold is left in the bag. Ketorting the balance of the quicksilver that remains is the next process, and, when acid is not used to bring the gold to its yellow color, is quite intricate ; this is done by confining the mass in tub- illed are half 1st or ubs, fans, the fins; wed THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. 1ST tight iron moulds or retorts, and putting them into. a very hot charcoal fire, when the rest of the quicksilver passes off like steam and condenses again for use. Mining alone, and separate from communities, was somewhat hazardous in this region, but the risk was sometimes taken, as the murdered bodies of two miners attested, which were found alone in the mountains where they had been working a pocket in the side of a ledge. Sometimes a i)arty of tliree or four would club togetlier for protection and help, and all work upon the same claim ; but even these would some- times all lose their lives. A case of this kind came to Charlie's knowl- edge, which was as follows : A party of four men had clubbed together and opened a shaft in a mine about thirteen miles from the new city. Three of the men were at work in the shaft, which was sixty feet in dejDth, and one was at the windlass hoisting ; their rifles were at the top of the shaft. Suddenly the man at the windlass was surprised by a dozen Indians and instantly shot. The painted savages- u 1 'if k 'jf' ' ' • iV' * ; 'i ♦If,' 'I- I: !!)•■ :.. In ' 188 THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOT, CHARLIE. then rushed up and rolled down rocks upon the helpless victims in the shaft, killing two and breaking the arm of the third ; supposing them all dead, the savages plundered their hut and left. Several hours after the injured miner succeeded in reaching the top of the shaft and hurried away towards the nearest town, but he had only gone three miles when he was shot dead by an ambush of the savage band. Such were the perils of mining in Arizona when undertaken by small companies in remote regions. 'Ifi n i- ': ' •it ■ CHAPTER XIII. " Notbiug BO small that God has made liut has its destined end, All iu their turn his glory serve, All to his glory tend. " And thus the Immblest of us all, God's iustnuueuts may prove, Tc bless and shed o'er fellow-men, The bounty of his love." T TOOK nearly a year and a half to locate the mines, form the com- pany, and get the proper machinery transported to this distant locality ; but Charlie worked 'with untiring, zeal, waiting patiently to reap the harvest, which always follows patient and concentrated effort. The time came at last when he stood again in the broad sunshine of prosperity. The early horrors of life among the mines, when it was a common thing for one man to shoot another upon the slight- est provocation, had passed away before the march PI h" F! • - I i ? IM . ■» 1>t ! ' i;:i: 11] S 1 •ii- ' y.i -1 91 i •- 'I II , l>S; t ;. lilj ■■? - ! h it 190 THE carej:r of the stolen boy, ciiaklie. of civilization ; and the only stain which still lin- gered in the new city, was the many whirky-shops which flourished. But these were fast becominsr unpopular ; for the Good Templars were the lead- ing men of the city ; and lectures, readings, and concerts formed the chief amusements. Alas ! that any could be found who would per- mit themselves to become slaves to a demon, who sooner or later will destroy them. The victim, glorying in his own strength of mind, dallies with the flrst glass, the second, and the third, until the dreadful appetite is formed, and the strength to resist gone. Then, maddened by the poison, he becomes a murderer. Sometimes with the hastv blow or shot — oftener by the slow torture, poured day after day into the suffering heart of a wife, a motlier, a sister, or child. Silently the years slipped by — each day and hour our hero was being fitted for the duties that were to come. As an employer, he won the earn- est efforts of his men; for he w^as always resolute and active, and a most genial companion in social intercourse. The new city, of which he helped to THE CAREER OF THE STOLEN BOY, CUAIiLIE. ll'l :ill lin- '-shops joining 2 lead- js, and Id por- n, wlio victim, es with itil the igth to son, lit' ) liastv poured wife, a ay and ^es that e eani- resohite 1 social jlped to lay the foundation, felt the influence of his exam- ple and leadership ; and many refinements of socud life found their way to this interior locality years in advance of the older towns near the river. As the resources of the country became more widely known and understood, this neighborhood was found to contain vast fields of coal and forests of timber, waiting to be called into use by the needs of the future. And there were mountains of salt, clear as crystal, from v/hich cubes of this saline substance were often obtained that were as transparent as glass ; while in many places rock salt of excellent quality was abundant. Charlie now found time to examine the country more leisurely; and a little, lively, black-eyed lady was often the companion of his journeys; for heluid won, for his wife, the postnuister's daughter, of the little adobe town among the mountains. They took canoe-rides through the magnificent canons of the upper Colorado, where the stream seemed to have cut its bed deeper in the r(3cky formation, until walls three thousand feet in height now stood on both sides of the river. Among the Ill '' 'n i i: M \l' , : i i^U Hi iH r ^ ! \ 5 ^ ' li^' . 1 ,♦ », • ii' J-;' . ' I ■;. 102 THE CAKEEK OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHAKLIE. mines tliey found strata of sandstone, in which were found pieces of petrified wood, lizards and other substances ; and these strata contained silver, assaying from three to five hundred dollars per ton, furnishing a riddle for scientists to solve. They often took long rides across the country, pausing to wonder at the remains of peach-orchards which they found growing wild in watered dis- tricts, showing that they had been raised by former inhabitants, ruins of whose dwellings still re- mained, but nothing to tell who they were or whence they came. In the mountains they came upon deserted mines, in which shafts had been excavated, and the tools, which were rudely formed from pieces of stone, had been left behind. This seemed to prove that mining was among the earliest industries of the world. At the Mohave villages they were always wel- comed, and Mrs. Alice Burton caressed the Indian babies, and tasted the fruit of the Tunies (another species of cactus), while her husband entertained the Indian chief with pictures and descriptions of the large shi^)s he had seen in the bay at San .' .,'• THE CAKKER OF THE STOLEN 150Y, CHAULIE. 103 li were other silver, irs per ^« )uiitry, •ehards 3d dis- former :ill re- 'ere or y' came d been formed , This ig the ys wel- Indian another jrtained tions of at San Francisco ; and tliey ate with tlicir copper-colored friends, bread made from the Mezqiiite boan,wliich grows wild, in a screw-shaped, dry, twisted ])od, and is pounded np by the natives, and made into bread. There is also another wild species, tlie ])ods of which resemble onr garden bush-bean ; and the natives cook them very mucli as we do, and tliey are very i)alatablc; but these grow ou trees, sometimes thirty feet in height. Sometimes Alice took long walks alone, or hi company with her lady friends ; for, like her hus- band, she was an earnest student of Nature, and she liked to watch the kangaroo rats sporting among the thorny cactus. These curious animals were about the size (;f a barn rat, and had large eyes, a broad forehead, and sliort body and ears, with a tuft of hair on the end of the tail, similar to the lion. Some of fliem became so tame, that they would stand on their hind legs and eat from her hand ; and Charlie told her they were the next link to man and the monkey in the Darwinian pedigree. She often saw large lizards basking in the sunshine, but these would [dways run with — 1- 1 :k; li ll"'l^ 1 1 ! I n. ■ , '■ 1 - .1 ' . • 'if !i 11 . t I 1 \ I 194 THE CAKEEU OF THE STOLEN BOY, CHARLIE. lightning-like swiftness at her approach. AVlu'r- evcr she wandered, the limitless extent of flower- ing cactus met her view, for Arizona is a pointed country, if nothing else ; but rough and rugged as this country seems, those who dwell in its salu brious climate, find health, and often wealth. The architecture seems to conform to the sur rounding scenery, and nearly all the dwellings are of mud-brick, with thick walls, which are (juite comfortable; but once in a while a frame house is seen, with green blinds and vine-wreatlied piazza; and one of these we will invite the reader to enter. It is both large and handsome, and stands u}m)ii its rocky foundation, near the spring wliich fur- nishes the water by which is run tlio twenty stamp mill for the Mohave Gold and Silver Mining Com- pany. The large baj^-window, from which is seen the first glimpse of the sun as it rises from behind the mountains, opens into the cosy sitting-room, with its comfortable lounges and bright carpet, where Charlie's mother, in her soft black dress, relieved only by the collar and cuffs of white linen and the white apron trimmed with dainty lace, sits THE CxVREER OF THE STOLEN BOV, CHARLIE. 195 in her cusliioned rocker, knitting a tiny sock of soft wool, intended fur the fiit dimpled foot of the bhick-ejed, brown-luiired baby, who is crowing in the black-walnut crib in the corner. This rosy-cheeked cherub is Willie Burton ; his mother calls him " Birdie," and we find her at this moment watering and pruning her roses and gera- niums,' which are in full bloom, and which entirely fill one window of the south-room, where we will find her sewing-machine, and the cabinet organ ui)on which Charlie still gratifies his taste for music. The soil for her flowerpots, as well as that of the tubs which sustained the ivy which is trained over the ])iazza, has been brought from the forest beyond the mountains ; and the flowers and vines form a bright contrast to the rugged surroundings of their mountain home. Charlie's study and library adjoins this room, and here he has gathered a choice collection of instructive and entertaining books, and a few of the paintings which had adorned his former home. Down dee]) shafts, through long, dark tunnels the ores are daily being brought to light and I t ft ' l! I f^ fl /I mr\ 19