The Haunted Mine Part 27

"This one lasted one day, and I was glad to see the ice quit dropping.

I was thirty miles from the fort, and I'll bet I didn't do two miles of walking in all that distance. I left everything except my weapons and crawled all the way. This is the saddle, right here."

"I should keep that for the good it had done," said Julian. "Your saddle probably saved your life."

"It will stay with me while I live," said Banta, casting an affectionate look upon the article in question. "Now, boys, suppose you get ready and chop some wood and start the fire. I'll take the things off the animals and straighten up the lean-to. You boys don't know how to make a lean-to, do you? If you take a good look at this one, you will see how it is done."

There was one satisfaction the boys had in listening to Mr. Banta's stories--they were true, every word of them. If any of the "boys"

tried to make things different from what they were, Banta always shut them up. That was the reason the boys thought so much of him, and anything he had to say in regard to working their mine was always listened to with the keenest interest.

The change that a few experienced men made in that deserted camp in a short time was wonderful. Every stroke of the axe counted for something, and every step the men made to and from the places they had chosen to make their beds seemed to count for something else; so that by the time Julian and Jack had cut wood enough to last them all night the lean-to's were covered with fresh boughs, those who did not choose to sleep under shelter had their beds made up under the protecting branches of trees, the animals were staked out, and two of the cooks were busy getting supper. It was all done without the least commotion, for each man knew what his duty was.

"If a rain-storm was coming up you couldn't have made this camp quicker," said Julian. "It beats the world how soon men can get ready for the night."

"Yes, but that comes from experience, you know," said Banta. "Do you know that I have been thinking of something? When we get up to Dutch Flat, and you get ready to go up to your mine, I believe I will go with you."

"That's the best piece of news I have heard for a long time," declared Julian, who was delighted beyond measure. "We don't ask you to go down in the mine, you understand, but if you will just stay there until we get things fixed you will confer a great favor upon us."

"Yes, I guess I had better see to your wants a little," said Banta.

"You are tenderfeet, you have never lived alone in the mountains, and perhaps I can tip you a wink now and then that will be of use to you.

You will need the mine cleared away--it has all grown up to gra.s.s by this time--and you will need a windla.s.s and a lean-to; and maybe I can be of a.s.sistance."

"I know you can; and of great a.s.sistance, too. I tell you, I feel easier. I have often wondered how that mine looked, and how we were going to get it in shape to work it, but I don't worry about it now.

We are much obliged to you for your offer."

"Oh, that's all right. I remember that I was a boy myself, and any such little help as I have offered you would have been a regular blessing to me. Now let us go and see if supper is ready."

Supper was almost ready, and the neat manner in which it was served up, and the way it was cooked, told the boys that if the miners could always get such food as that, they could work their claims to the best possible advantage.

"Can we help you a little?" said Julian to one of the cooks after the meal was over and the man began gathering up the dishes.

"What a-doing?" asked the cook.

"We want to help you wash the dishes," said Julian.

"Why, bless you, that's no trouble. There is only one way you can help us, and that is by sitting by and looking on. I never yet saw a tenderfoot that didn't get in the way. You will have enough of it to do when you get up to that ghost-haunted mine of yours and have to cook your own meals. You had better take my advice," said the cook, in a lower tone, "and stay down on Dutch Flat with us. There are no spirits down there."

"But it is ours, and I don't see why we can't work it," replied Julian. "If there is anybody there, we will make him show himself."

"You will see," said the cook, going to the camp-fire for a bucket of water. "The next time we see you, you will be all ready to go back to Denver."

The cook struck up a whistle as he began was.h.i.+ng the dishes, and the boys, taking this as a gentle hint that he would rather be alone, walked off to another fire which had been kindled in the upper end of the camp. All the miners were gathered about there, and each one of them had a story to tell about some wonderful "find" which he had almost struck, and then ceased digging because he was discouraged by the way the gold "showed up." Banta was there, and after relating three or four stories of his own, he began to stretch and yawn as though he were sleepy, and finally arose and went into his lean-to.

The boys followed him, hoping he would say something more about going up to their mine with them; but he talked on other topics until he got into bed, and then he became silent. He had already decided what he would do when they reached Dutch Flat, and there the matter ended.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE CAMP AT DUTCH FLAT.

The boys slept as comfortably as if they had been at home in their boarding-house. It is true their blankets were rather hard, and their pillows were not as soft as they might have been, being simply their saddles with nothing but the horse-blankets over them, but they never knew a thing from the time they went to bed until they heard Mr.

Banta's voice roaring out "Catch up!"

They found all in the camp busy. Some were raking the embers of the fire together, others were getting ready to cook breakfast, but most of them were engaged in packing the animals. This last was a task that the boys always wanted to see, for the operation was so complicated that they did not think they could ever learn how to do it. The mules were blinded, in the first place, so that they could not kick when the heavy pack was thrown upon their backs, and the man on the near side, who seemed to "boss" the business, placed his foot against the mule's side and called l.u.s.tily for the rope which the other fellow held in his hands.

"You have more rope there, and I know it," was the way in which he began the conversation.

"Here you are," said his companion, and the rope was pa.s.sed over the pack to where the other fellow was waiting to receive it.

"Come, let's have a little more rope," repeated the first man.

"There's oceans of it here, and you can have all you want of it."

"Are you all fast there?"

"I will be in a minute. Here's your end."

"All fast here. Now let us see him kick it off," said the first man; whereupon a dexterous twist tore off the blinders, and the mule was free to go and join his companions. It was all done in two minutes, and the pack was safe to last until the train halted for the night.

"Come on, boys," said Mr. Banta, turning to Julian and Jack, who stood, with towel and soap in their hands, watching the operation of packing the animals. "You must get around livelier than this. When you get to digging out gold by the bucketful you won't wait to wash your faces or get breakfast; you'll be down in that mine before the sun is up."

"Are we not going to eat at all?" asked Julian, who was amused at the man's way of telling them that they would be so anxious to find the gold that they would not spend time to cook their meals.

"Yes, I suppose you will have to eat sometimes, but you will hold your grub in one hand and use the spade with the other."

The miners were in a hurry, now, to resume their journey, and it took them about half as long to eat breakfast as they devoted to their supper. Five minutes was about the time they applied themselves to their meal, and when Mr. Banta arose from his seat on the ground and drew his hairy hand across his mouth to brush away the drops of coffee that clung to his mustache the miners all arose, too. In less time than it takes to tell it they were all in their saddles and under way, and when they stopped again for the night they were in a camp which they had occupied on the way down to Denver. Mr. Banta was as talkative as usual, and when he had got his pipe going, and had taken three or four puffs to make sure that it was well started, he began his round of stories, which the boys were always ready to listen to.

They were all of a week in making their journey; and about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the old bell-mare struck a trot, Mr.

Banta turned to Jack and gave him a poke with his finger.

"We are almost home," said he, joyfully. "I don't suppose this will seem like home to you, but it does to me, for it is the only home I have."

"Do you never get tired of this business?" asked Julian. "I should think you would like to go back to the States, where you belong."

"How do you know that I belong in the States?" asked Mr. Banta.

"I judge by your way of talking, as much as anything. You were not raised in this country--I am certain of it."

"Well, I will go back when I get enough."

"How much do you call enough?"

"Half a million dollars."

Julian and Jack opened their eyes and looked surprised.

"I've got three hundred thousand now in the bank at Denver."