HOW THE GREAT NUGGET NEARLY COST THE BRADFORDS DEAR

The lump of gold which Lucky had declared was as big as his head had not yet been secured, and the likelihood that many prospectors would come in as soon as the rivers were fordable caused Uncle Will to undertake this excursion at an early day. The Stik indicated that the treasure lay in the valley of the Kah Sha River above its junction with Alder Creek. As the creek was the principal stream above that point, just as the Missouri River carries far more water than the upper Mississippi, it seemed probable that there would be little difficulty, even at this season of flood, in ascending the upper river-valley.

It was a cool, invigorating morning on which the Bradfords began their quest. The mountains about them wore below the snow-line the soft green of spring vegetation, while round their summits a few fleecy clouds vied with the snow in brightness. The Indian boy was left in charge of the camp,—an arrangement which he accepted without visible disappointment,—and the gold-hunters proceeded down the brawling creek, walking with difficulty over loose pebbles of quartz, granite, and slate. Occasionally Uncle Will picked up a stone and examined it through a magnifying-glass for traces of the precious metals.

Having reached the river after walking nearly a mile, they turned to the left up its valley, and soon, owing to the boulders below, were obliged to clamber along the hillsides. Few trees were to be seen, but there was a profusion of low bushes and plants on every sunny slope. Often in shaded places they crossed old snowdrifts which promised to last the summer through. Lucky led the way, picking the best path by a sort of instinct.

The hills became more and more precipitous. Great bluffs of gravel alternated with rocky walls, and often it was difficult to maintain a foothold. While crossing the face of one of the bluffs, Mr. Bradford met with an adventure which, as he afterwards declared, almost turned his hair white. The rest of the party had passed the declivity near its top by digging their feet and sticks into the soft gravel, while he had lingered to secure a blue forget-me-not which grew below him.

When he turned to follow the others, they were out of sight around the shoulder of the hill, and he could see nothing to mark their path across the bluff. He had descended fifty feet or more, and since there appeared no reason for scrambling up again, he began to advance at that level. Perhaps a third of the bluff had been crossed slowly and carefully when, without warning, he encountered a gravel of different character. Instead of being soft and loose, it was now compact, firmly bedded, and so steeply inclined that it offered not the slightest foothold. The moment Mr. Bradford's foot struck this hard gravel he slipped and fell, but as he did so he drove his staff firmly into the slope. By this means he was able to stay himself temporarily.

He now felt carefully about for a support for his feet, but the crumbling pebbles rolled away with every movement. However, he discovered a projecting stone which seemed able to bear some weight, and this relieved the strain upon his hands and arms. And now he shouted as loudly as possible, hoping that his friends would hear.

It was a perilous situation. Below him for a hundred and fifty feet the gravel was of the same hard, deceptive consistency. He could see that it ended abruptly at least fifty feet above the little stream, and rightly conjectured that this interval was occupied by a perpendicular precipice of rock. What lay at the bottom he shuddered to imagine,—boulders, sharp rocks, at best a rough gravel-bed! And he could move neither hand nor foot; while, as if in mockery of his plight, the pebbles kept bounding and rattling merrily down the terrible slope below him, leaping out into space at last as if it were a pleasant pastime.

Again and again he shouted, and now he was gladdened by an answering shout, and saw his brother hastening along the bluff above, followed by Lucky, David, and Roly.

"Quick, Will," he cried; "I can't hold out much longer."

Uncle Will grasped the situation in a twinkling. "Has any one some twine?" he asked.

"I have," answered David, quickly producing a small ball of it from his pocket.

"Tie the walking-sticks together, then, and don't lose an instant. Roly, run to the top of the bluff and see if you can cut a tall poplar." With these words Uncle Will hastened to work his way down the face of the bluff toward his brother, while Lucky ran down to the point where Mr. Bradford had found the flower, and thence followed his course as far as he could out across the bare gravel. He was able to approach much nearer the imperilled man than was Uncle Will, who came upon the hard surface before he had covered half the distance, and could go no farther.

Indeed, the Indian was within a yard of Mr. Bradford and kicking one last foothold in the treacherous bank preparatory to reaching out for him when, to the horror of all, the stone upon which the white man stood gave way. The sudden wrench tore the stick also from its place. Having thus lost all support, the unfortunate man at once slipped and slid and rolled toward the brink of the precipice. He was beyond human aid. Another moment, and, in spite of his frantic efforts to clutch at the shelving bank, he dashed over the edge of the rock and passed out of sight amid a shower of small stones dislodged by his fall.

There is something indescribably frightful in the sight of a strong man thus powerless to avert his own destruction, and when the victim is a father or brother the horror is intensified a hundred-fold. Uncle Will groaned and shut his eyes.

But he was a man of action, and quickly recovering himself he ran back along the hill with Lucky and David until they could descend to the stream, up which they made their way with reckless haste. Lucky was the most nimble; and as he scrambled to the top of a boulder which had obstructed his view ahead, his usual stolidity gave way to a glad cry. Mr. Bradford lay at the foot of the cliff upon a great bank of snow.

But he lay there so still and lifeless that the rescuers anxiously hastened to his side. They were immediately joined by Roly, whose face was pale with dread. Mr. Bradford had either struck the cliff in his descent, or had been struck by one of the stones which fell with him, for blood was flowing from a cut in the forehead, and he was unconscious. Uncle Will washed the blood from the wound, and wetting his handkerchief in the cold water of the stream, soon coaxed back the life.

"Well, Charley," said he, in a tone of intense satisfaction as he saw his eyes open, "that was the closest call you ever had, but you're coming through all right." And Mr. Bradford did. He had been stunned and shaken, but not seriously injured, and after an hour's rest was able to proceed.

They had not much farther to go. Lucky, who had keenly observed all landmarks, soon halted in the rocky river-bottom and began to search carefully among the boulders. A few minutes later he called out, "Big nuggit here!" and pointed to a sort of knob projecting from a large rock in the stream. Uncle Will hastened to the spot and saw at a glance that this knob was an almost solid mass of yellow metal. But he was too careful a man to accept first appearances, and brought the microscope to bear.

"Ah!" said he, and his face grew long, "it's fool's gold, after all,—just a big chunk of iron pyrites."

"Why, it looks just like gold!" declared Roly, coming up. "I never saw iron of that color."

"Very likely not," said his uncle. "This isn't iron in its pure state, but combined with sulphur. Look through the microscope and you'll see that the metal is crystallized. You won't find gold in that shape."

Lucky did not comprehend this explanation, but he read the disappointment in the faces of the others. To make him understand, Uncle Will tapped the blade of his knife and said, "Iron—no good,"—a simple form of expression which the Indian easily interpreted. He too showed genuine disappointment, for he had intended to do a kindness to Uncle Will.

"Well," said David, with at least a show of resignation, "I suppose there's nothing to do but retrace our steps."

"I don't care to retrace all of mine," said Mr. Bradford, whose pale face wore a smile beneath its bandage.

"Oh!" exclaimed his brother, "but those weren't steps! You didn't take a single step in the whole two hundred feet! The first fifty you slid, the next hundred you rolled, and the last fifty you flew, and we won't ask you to do it over again."

Indeed, they were all so thankful at Mr. Bradford's escape that the nugget was hardly given a thought, and on the whole it was a happy party which returned to Alder Creek that evening.