The Pike's Peak Rush Part 37

"A few miles, boys, and we'll be there," promised the Tarryall man.

"'Bout tomorrow noon, say. Then for your pound a day."

"Seems as though that pound of gold a day was always ten or forty miles ahead of a fellow," complained Terry. "First it was at Cherry Creek, then it was at Gregory Gulch, and now it's somewhere yonder. He said fifty miles, and I bet we've hoofed a hundred and still we haven't struck it yet. Guess Harry and I'll have to sell the Golden Prize so as to get us some boots. Look at mine!"

"We'll make moccasins or trade for some with the Injuns," consoled George. "When you're getting your pound a day you won't care."

The straggling procession was well worn out by two days of long, hard marching afoot and ahorse, and most of the animals were foot-sore. But tonight's camp was more cheerful, because the new diggin's lay close before, over the next divide. Yes, the Tarryall man had promised truly, for about eleven o'clock in the morning the head of the procession shouted and cheered and waved.

"South Park, boys--and Tarryall's in sight!"

"Hooray!" cheered everybody, as the news spread back from mouth to mouth and ear to ear.

"Gwan, Jenny!" bade George, clapping her on the gaunt flank; and driving her, he and Terry limped faster.

Because they were boys they had been well treated, on the way over, but now when new diggin's were so close at hand they might expect no favors.

Every party must rustle for itself.

"Jenny! Gwan! Do you want to be left? Gwan! Hep with you!"

"Hep with you!" echoed Terry.

Jenny did her best; before and behind, the other outfits were doing their very best--crashing recklessly through the brush and timber and sliding and tumbling over the rocks. The head of the procession had disappeared over another little rise--perhaps was already in and at work locating the best pound-a-day claims!

"Jenny! Jenny! Yip! Gwan!" urged George and Terry. And with their rivals treading on their heels they, too, mounted the little rise, gained the top, and now in the clear could gaze anxiously beyond.

"I see it! I see the camp!" exclaimed Terry.

"So do I. But, whew! this is a big place, isn't it?" puffed George.

South Park was indeed large, and also beautiful; being an immense flat, miles wide and miles long, gra.s.sy and green and dotted with timber patches and bare round hills--yes, and with buffalo and deer, too!--and well watered by winding streams and the snows of high encircling mountains. The sight might well make one gasp, but another sight should be attended to first: that of the leading gold-seekers spurring their horses and mules diagonally across in a race for a glimmer of tents set amidst willows and pines against the west edge.

And pellmell, hobbling and shouting and straining, all the ragged company strung out after.

"If we won't be first, we won't be last, just the same," panted Terry.

The Tarryall diggin's resolved into three or four tents and several bough huts along a creek where it formed a broad gulch as it issued from the mountains. The gulch was being worked with rockers and pans, and claim stakes seemed to be planted clear through, from side to side. In fact, when, breathless, their eyes roving eagerly, Terry and George arrived, business-bent, it looked as though the whole ground had already been occupied by the discoverers!

"Tarryall! This isn't Tarryall--it ought to be named Grab-all!" was denouncing one of the leaders who had won the race from the last ridge.

"What do you think, boys?" he addressed, as the other Gregory Gulch in-comers paused and jostled uncertainly. "There are twelve of these Tarryall fellows, and they've each of 'em staked off two thousand feet!

That means twenty-four thousand feet of claims--nearly five miles! Is that fair? No! By miners' law a claim's one hundred feet."

"You're right. One hundred feet."

"Tear up those stakes."

"No thousand or two thousand foot business goes with us!"

"They've invited us in here. They've got to give us a show."

"Grab-all! Grab-all! That's the name for this camp: Grab-all!"

The murmur of responses was instant. The Gregory Gulch men surged angrily. The Tarryall men--twelve, now that the guide from Gregory Gulch had joined them--stood in a compact little group. They were a st.u.r.dy, rough-and-ready squad, well armed and able to take care of themselves.

Their spokesman, a burly, s.h.a.ggy-bearded individual, stepped out a pace, and tapped the b.u.t.t of his revolver significantly.

"That's tall talk, gentlemen," he said, "but it's wasted on us. This is our camp. We've discovered this ground. We came in here first, where no white men ever prospected before and where the Injuns are liable to raise our hair any moment; we've drawn our own regulations, and I reckon we're going to hold what we've got. No white men, or Injuns either, can tell us what we're to do. If you want peace you can have it; if you want a fight, you can have it; for here we are, and anybody that tries to jump a claim that we've got marked out will be making his last jump--you can bank on that. There's plenty ground left; don't you touch ours."

For a minute things looked ugly, as the Gregory Gulch crowd growled indignantly, and the Tarryall squad waited, watchful and unafraid. Then the other man spoke.

"Let's have dinner, boys. After that we'll prospect 'round and hold a little meeting, and see whether this camp is to be Tarryall or Grab-all.

Tarryall is what we were invited to join, but if these fellows think we're in here to buy them out because we can't find anything else to do, they're mighty mistaken. It's a smooth scheme, but it won't work."

"We can run 'em out, all right, if they don't play fair," boasted George, as he and Terry imitated the rest of the company and prepared dinner.

"I don't know. There'd be a lot of men killed," reasoned Terry. "They were in here first, and we promised to respect their rights as locators."

"We weren't told they'd staked out all the ground, though. They're allowed only a hundred feet at a time."

"That's the Gregory Gulch rule, but this isn't Gregory Gulch; it's a different district," argued Terry, who felt that he'd rather prospect than fight. "Maybe we all can find thousand-feet claims."

"Well, we can't find 'em in Tarryall," stormed George. "And Tarryall's the place we were brought to. I guess they expect us to buy. It's a put-up job."

The meeting was held immediately after dinner. Hot speeches were made, and several resolutions were pa.s.sed: one changing the name from Tarryall to "Grab-all," and another declaring that all claims should be one hundred feet. However, n.o.body seemed quite up to enforcing this new rule on the claims already staked. Amidst threats and bl.u.s.ter and glowering looks the Tarryall squad warily resumed their daily work, and gradually the Gregory Gulch crowd spread out, searching here and there for color, but taking care not to trespa.s.s.

"No fight," decided George, as if disappointed. "It's going to be just a grab-all. Get your tools if you want your pound a day."

"That's what we came for," reminded Terry, as they shouldered pick and spade apiece. "We won't wait for any fight. Come on; leave the stuff here."

"Somebody'll steal your shot-gun."

"Don't think so. I can't carry that, too! But I can put it in one of those Tarryall tents."

"I'll wear my revolver. I don't leave that," p.r.o.nounced George, wagging his head.

"Sure. You ought to travel well heeled, in these parts, sonny." One of the Tarryall men had strolled over. "If you don't, that Dutchman will take your scalp."

"What Dutchman?" demanded Terry.

"He's holed up in a gulch about a mile yonder. He's like the rest of us original discoverers--what he has he's bound to keep. We all give him a clear field, and I'd advise you to do the same. It's an unhealthy neighborhood hereabouts for claim jumpers. You're two plucky lads. Any more in your party?"

"No, sir. We're our own outfit," informed Terry. "But we've got another partner, and some prospects, back in the Gregory diggin's."

"Do you know where we can dig a pound a day here? That man who brought us in said you were digging a pound a day," challenged George.

"So we are--or will be as soon as we get our lumber in place for sluices. But you newcomers won't locate any pound a day ground in this gulch. We've seen to that and we don't propose to be bullied out of our rights as discoverers. We risked our lives to come in here; but of course we'd be glad of company. We own the ground and we own the water.

You fellows find your ground and your water, and all together we'll stand off the Injuns. I thought I'd warn you about the Dutchman, though--you two boys, at any rate. I don't want to see you harmed. You were speaking about leaving your scatter-gun," he concluded, more gruffly, to Terry. "That's all right. I'll keep an eye on it for you. If you don't bother the Dutchman he won't bother you."

"He'd better not," a.s.serted George. "I'm going to wear _my_ gun. Who is he and what does he want around here?"