"Maybe they've boycotted the country as well as the store," said a loitering digger. "For none of our boys have clapped eyes on a Injun since you come back from 'Frisco."

"So much the better; 'cause to-morrow's audit day, and the old lady goes to the river for her little jaunt." On the first of every month, either Savage or his mother drove over to the store at Frezno River to examine accounts, pay wages, and bring back the "takings." On this occasion the young man felt himself in an awkward dilemma; on the one hand dreading to be absent from his store, on the other not at all satisfied that his mother might not be attacked on the way by revengeful Indians.

The old lady, however, always looked forward to such an outing as a welcome break in the monotony of her life at the Creek, and would not be baulked of her treat; though, in the morning, she consented to take Sam, a reliable negro servant, as escort. The Frezno River store was but a four hours' drive distant; and she ought to be able to return soon after dark came on, at latest.

In the middle of the day a digger rushed excitedly into the store. He had just returned from a "claim" six miles away, whither he had gone to compare some quartz.

"Where's all the boys? Not knocked off for the noon spell yet?" he cried.

"Some of 'em'll soon be round," said Savage, who was alone in the store. "What's the trouble?"

"Trouble 'nough. The redskins have come down on First Creek, killed a dozen of 'em, and cleared out with all the powder an' nuggets they could see their way to handling."

Savage turned pale; First Creek was on the direct road to his other store.

"Where are they got to now?" he gasped.

"Lord knows. It was a n.i.g.g.e.r as told me, just afore he died; he seen it all, an' got one o' their bullets into him. All the rest of the diggers have made tracks for 'Frisco, to fetch out the volunteers.

Never had a chance, so the n.i.g.g.e.r said. There was 'most three hundred o' the reptiles, an' not more'n twenty of our boys, an' all of 'em took by surprise; shot down afore they could pick up their guns."

Savage gave the frightened man a drink of spirits, then said resolutely:

"See an' muster as many o' the boys as ye can.--Here come some of 'em.

Tell the others if they don't wipe off this score, our lives won't be worth a cent out here. My poor old mother's over at the other store, and I'm off to fetch her back."

Within half an hour fifty diggers had been collected, and, after a brief discussion, it was arranged that forty of them should accompany Savage on horseback while the others guarded the store, which, just now, was less likely to be attacked than the more distant one.

Riding at full gallop they accomplished the distance in a little over two hours; and even that was two hours too late. A roar of futile anger arose from the miners as they pulled up their horses. The store was in flames, and already half consumed; at the end, by the stables, was Savage's van, minus the horses, and across the front-board of it lay the faithful black, shot dead, but still clutching a discharged rifle; while round about the doorway were the bodies of the manager, his two a.s.sistants, and old Mrs. Savage. Heedless of everything else, her son rushed to her side; then uttered a strange little cry of relief as she opened her eyes and sat up painfully. Blood was running from her shoulder.

"Thank G.o.d you are safe," he said huskily. "The rest doesn't matter so much now." He lifted her in his arms and carried her tenderly to the waggon. Meanwhile, some of his companions were examining the other bodies for some sign of life, which, unhappily, was not forthcoming; while the rest made fruitless efforts at extinguishing the fire.

The old lady's story was soon told. She had not been in the store very long when a large party of Indians swooped down on the place with guns, tomahawks, and lighted torches. She heard a scream from the negro who had been dozing under the waggon-tilt, and she and the three shopmen rushed to the door, only to be shot down immediately by the crowd of shrieking wretches outside. She had received a ball in the shoulder, and, while the Indians were ransacking and firing the store, swooned away from fright and loss of blood.

A pair of horses were at once put into the shafts and the sorrowful party were about to return to Mariposa Creek, when a dozen hors.e.m.e.n galloped up; miners from the "claim" hard by, who, though they had paid no special heed to the firing, had soon been alarmed by the smoke of the burning house. Not one of them had seen anything of the Shoshonees, and all were anxious to help in a search for the culprits.

But the short winter's day was already at an end, and Savage preferred getting his mother home in safety to scouring a country that might teem with Indian ambuscades; he therefore urged the volunteers to make a dash for San Francisco, to interview the Governor (McDougall) and ask for troops and ammunition.

But the day's misadventures were not yet ended. Within a mile of Mariposa Creek the returning men could hear spasmodic bursts of musketry fire.

[Ill.u.s.tration: RED INDIAN ATTACK ON A STORE

The Indians swooped down on the place with guns, tomahawks, and lighted torches. Those within rushed to the door, only to be shot down immediately by a crowd of wild redskins outside.]

"They're laying up for us, by gum!" said one man, starting off at a gallop.

Savage leapt from the waggon and on to a spare horse, and, leaving his mother to the care of two or three men who were riding inside, he started with the rest for the store. "We've got them this time," he shouted triumphantly.

About seventy redskins, most of them on horseback, and the rest with their horses tethered close at hand, were firing on the house, though from a tolerably safe distance; for the undaunted miners within had a good supply of ammunition, whereas the Snakes had to use theirs sparingly. Already a good many Indians lay dead or wounded, and, at the sound made by the new arrivals, the rest either turned to bay or fled.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Jerez," shouted Savage as he charged at the chief and fired off his pistol in his face.

Seeing their leader down, the Indians hesitated, though some of the bolder of them rode straight for the store, now that it was no longer safe for the men inside to continue their fire. But the ensuing battle was only a very short one. However brave the Indians might be at shooting from cover, or making war on women, they were powerless in open field against the burly miners, who cared nothing for their howls and their hatchets, and who, in many cases, having exhausted their ammunition, tore the savages screaming from their saddles and flung them senseless on the hard-frozen road.

"Look what the oseberds be at, Savage!" roared a huge Devonshireman, spurring his horse furiously in pursuit of a small batch of Indians who were galloping for the hills.

"After 'em," echoed the defenders of the store; and Savage and five others rode madly in the Devonshireman's wake.

Confident of success now that their friends had returned, the miners in the store had come out to continue the fight in the open; and the young Indian wife had followed them. In an instant, and at first unseen by anyone except Billy West the Devonshireman, one of the braves had s.n.a.t.c.hed up the woman, flung her across his saddle, and ridden off, his flight covered by other fugitives.

The little handful of white men rode despairingly on, though their horses were jaded, though it was pitch dark and a heavy snow was beginning. There was no thought of ambuscades now; each man's blood was up; each man ready to deal with a score of Indians single-handed.

Yet, at last, common sense said "stop." For the first mile or so, the snow had been their friend; for, to eyes accustomed to darkness, the Indians' track was visible enough on its surface; but with the increasing storm, footprints were obliterated as fast as they were made. The Devonshireman was the first to pull up.

"Shall us goo on, or goo back, or baide yere,--or what?" he asked.

Everyone looked towards Savage. Clearly these good fellows were all anxiety to show their sympathy with him, and their readiness to fall in with his least wish. He, too, had now pulled up, but seemed altogether too dazed to form any decision. The others held a whispered council; but, while they still hesitated, they heard a body of mounted men riding swiftly behind them.

"Halt!--Who goes there?" And as an echo to the leader's voice, came the click of three dozen carbine-hammers.

"All right; _we_ shan't eat ye," growled a miner; and the troop rode on towards them. "Who are _you_, any way?"

"Dr. Bunnell, and forty volunteers from 'Frisco. Know anything about that affair at First Creek this morning?"

The new arrivals were mounted militia from San Francisco, who had been warned by the fugitives from the ma.s.sacre at the diggings. Billy West began to tell of the other outrages, but the doctor interrupted him.

"Ay; we judged there was something of the sort going on. Bring that redskin here again."

Two men with bull's-eye lanterns at their belts rode forward, leading a third horse on which an Indian was securely bound.

"Here's our guide," said Dr. Bunnell grimly. He held up his heavy stock-whip to the lantern light, and the Shoshonee winced. "We captured him this afternoon, and he's going to be good enough to show us where his brothers live. We got ten of 'em altogether; Captain Boling's men are looking after the rest. They'll meet us yon side the first hill at midnight; so fall in with our lads, and we'll get on; if your horses are anything like ours, you'll be glad to travel slowly."

The troop rode on silently, following the directions given by the prisoner; and soon after midnight they came upon a body of men, seventy strong, who, having dismounted, were huddling over camp-fires on the mountain-side. The soldiers were well supplied with rations, which they readily shared with Savage and his six friends; and all settled down to give the horses a breathing s.p.a.ce. A couple of hours before dawn, a bugle blew, and the shivering, stiffened men clambered into their saddles again.

The way now lay across a snow-clad plain which, after a few miles, began to slope steadily upwards. As day broke, the riders saw a group of hills not far ahead; and at sight of them the Indians began to look hesitating and uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" asked Captain Boling.

"They can't agree, gov'nor," said a man who acted as interpreter.

"Some of 'em allow we're on the wrong track altogether."

"In other words, they reckon we're in for the worst of it, and they'll get burnt for informing," said Dr. Bunnell, riding up. He spoke impressively in the Shoshonean dialect to the prisoners for a minute, then added, "All right; drive on. I've made them understand that it won't answer their purpose to be crooked with us."

More crestfallen than ever, the guides led the way up the slope and into an unsuspected ravine, which eventually opened on to another plain; and this they crossed, coming out presently to the brink of a sharp downward slope, at the foot of which the opening of a valley was visible.

"There's someone standing over there." Captain Boling pointed to the mouth of the valley.

"Ay; Injun woman," said a sharp-eyed miner.

As the men quickened their pace the woman ran to meet them. It was an old Indian squaw, who was wringing her hands in an agony of terror.

Dr. Bunnell reined up and questioned her, and she at once admitted that a strange Indian girl had been brought to the valley a few hours earlier, and that over two hundred Indians were sheltering there. She also told him what he did not believe at the time, but which subsequently proved to be true: that these would be the first white men to enter the valley. He looked sharply round at the prisoners; their faces fully confirmed the old woman's betrayal of their tribe's hiding-place.