Home
Fictions/Novels
Short Stories
Poems
Essays
Plays
Nonfictions
 
Authors
All Titles
 






In Association with Amazon.com

Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains > This page

The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains, a fiction by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 16. In Nature's Storehouse

< Previous
Table of content
Next >
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN. IN NATURE'S STOREHOUSE

All this seemed to add terribly to the sense of insecurity felt by the Doctor, and Joses was not slow to speak out.

"We may have a mob of horse-Injun down upon us at any moment," he growled. "I don't think we're very safe."

"Joses is right," said the Doctor; "we must see if there is a rich deposit of silver here, and then, if all seems well, we must return, and get together a force of recruits so as to be strong enough to resist the Indians, should they be so ill advised as to attack us, and ready to work the mines."

"'Aven't seen no mines yet," growled Joses.

The Doctor coughed with a look of vexation upon his countenance, and, beckoning to the chief, he took his rifle. Bart rose, and leaving Joses in charge of the camp, they started for the edge of the canyon.

There was no likelihood of enemies being about the place after the event of the morning; but to the little party every shrub and bush, every stone, seemed to suggest a lurking-place for a treacherous enemy. Still they pressed on, the chief taking them, for some unknown reason, in the opposite route along beneath the perpendicular walls of the mountain, which here ran straight up from the plain.

They went by a rugged patch of broken rock, and by what seemed to be a great post stuck up there by human hands, but which proved, on a nearer approach, to be the remains of a moderate-sized tree that had been struck by lightning, the whole of the upper portion having been charred away, leaving only some ten feet standing up out of the ground.

A short distance farther on, as they were close in by the steep wall of rock, they came to a slight projection, as if a huge piece had slipped down from above, and turning sharply round this, the Beaver pointed to a narrow rift just wide enough to allow of the passage of one man at a time.

He signed to the Doctor to enter, and climbing over a few rough stones, the latter passed in and out of sight.

"Bart! quick, my boy! quick!" he said directly after, and the lad sprang in to help him, as he thought, in some perilous adventure, but only to stop short and stare at the long sloping narrow passage fringed with prickly cactus plants, which slope ran evidently up the side of the mountain.

"Why, it's the way up to the top," cried Bart. "I wonder who made it."

"Dame Nature, I should say, my boy," said the Doctor. "We must explore this. Why, what a natural fortification! One man could hold this passage against hundreds."

Just then the chief appeared below them, for they had climbed up a few yards, and signed to them to come down.

The Doctor hesitated, and then descended.

"Let's see what he has to show, Bart. I have seen no silver yet."

They followed the Beaver down, and he led them straight back, past the camp, through the narrow ravine, once more to the shelf of rock overlooking the canyon, and now, in the full glow of the sunny afternoon, they were able to realise the grandeur of the scene where the river ran swiftly down below, fully a thousand feet, in a bed of its own, shut out from the upper world by the perpendicular walls of rock.

At the first glance it seemed that it would be impossible to descend, but on farther examination there seemed in places to be rifts and crevices and shelves, dotted with trees and plants of the richest growth, where it might be likely that skilful climbers could make a way down.

From where they stood the river looked enchanting, for while all up in the plain was arid and grey, and the trees and shrubs that grew there seemed parched and dry, and of a sickly green, all below was of the richest verdant hues, and lovely groves of woodland were interspersed with soft patches of waving grass that flourished where stormy winds never reached, and moisture and heat were abundant.

Still this paradise-like river was not without signs of trouble visiting it at times, and these remained in huge up-torn trees, dead branches, and jagged rocks, splintered and riven, that dotted the patches of plain from the shores of the river to the perpendicular walls of the canyon.

Bart needed no telling that these were the traces of floods, when, instead of the bright silver rushing river, the waters came down from the mountains hundreds of miles to the north, and the great canyon was filled to its walls with a huge seething yellow flow, and in imagination he thought of what the smiling emerald valley would be after such a visitation.

But he had little time for thought, the chief making signs to the Doctor to follow him, first laying down his rifle and signing to the Doctor to do the same.

Dr Lascelles hesitated for a moment, and then did as the chief wished, when the Beaver went on for a few yards to where the shelf of rock seemed to end, and there was nothing but a sheer fall of a thousand feet down to the stones and herbage at the bottom of the canyon, while above towered up the mountain which seemed like a Titanic bastion round which the river curved.

Without a moment's hesitation the chief turned his face to them, lowered himself over the edge of the shelf down and down till only his hands remained visible. Then he drew himself up till his face was above the rock, and made a sign to the Doctor to come on.

"I dare not go, Bart," said the Doctor, whose face was covered with dew. "Would you be afraid to follow him, my boy?"

"I should be afraid, sir," replied Bart laying down his rifle, "but I'll go."

"No, no, I will not be such a coward," cried the Doctor; and going boldly to the edge, he refrained from looking over, but turned and lowered himself down, passing out of Bart's sight; and when the latter crept to the edge and looked down, he could see a narrow ledge below with climbing plants and luxuriant shrubs, but no sight of the Doctor or his guide.

Bart remained motionless--horror-stricken as the thought came upon him that they might have slipped and gone headlong into the chasm below; but on glancing back he saw one of the Indians who was of the party smiling, and evidently quite satisfied that nothing was wrong.

This being so, Bart remained gazing down into the canyon, listening intently, and wondering whither the pair could have gone.

It was a most wonderful sight to look down at that lovely silver river that flashed and sparkled and danced in the sunshine. In places where there were deep, calm pools it looked intensely blue, as it reflected the pure sky, while other portions seemed one gorgeous, dazzling damascene of molten metal, upon which Bart could hardly gaze.

Then there was the wonderful variety of the tints that adorned the shrubs and creepers that were growing luxuriantly wherever they could obtain a hold.

There were moments when Bart fancied that he could see the salmon plash in the river, but he could make out the birds in the depths below as they floated and skimmed about from shore to shore, and over the tops of the trees that looked like shrubs from where he crouched.

Just then, as he was forgetting the absence of the Doctor in an intense desire to explore the wonders of the canyon, to shoot in the patches of forest, to fish in the river, and find he knew not what in those wondrous solitudes where man had probably never yet trod, he heard a call, and, brought back to himself from his visionary expedition, he shouted a reply.

"The Beaver's coming to you, Bart. Lower yourself down, my boy, and come."

These--the Doctor's words--sounded close at hand, but the speaker was invisible.

"All right; I'll come," cried Bart; and as he spoke a feeling of shrinking came over him, and he felt ready to draw back. But calling upon himself, he went closer to the edge, trying to look under, and the next moment there was the head of the Beaver just below, gazing up at him with a half-mocking smile upon his face.

"You think I'm afraid," said Bart, looking down at him, "but I can't help that. I'll come all the same;" and swiftly turning, he lowered himself down till his body was hanging as it were in space, and only his chest and elbows were on the shelf.

Then for a moment he seemed to hesitate, but he mastered the shrinking directly after, and lowered himself more and more till he hung at the extremity of his hands, vainly seeking for a foothold.

"Are you there, Beaver?" he shouted, and he felt his waist seized and his sides pinioned by two strong hands, his own parted company from the shelf, and he seemed to fall a terrible distance, but it was only a couple of feet, and he found himself standing upon the solid rock, with the shelf jutting out above his head, and plenty of room to peer about amongst the clustering bushes that had here made themselves a home.

The chief smiled at his startled look, and pointing to the left, Bart glanced sidewise at where the precipice went down, and then walked onward cautiously along a rugged shelf not much unlike the one from which he had descended, save that it was densely covered with shrubby growth.

This shelf suddenly ended in a rift like a huge crevice in the face of the mountain, but there was a broad crack before it, and this it was necessary to leap before entering the rift.

Bart stopped short, gazing down into what seemed an awful abyss, but the Beaver passed him lightly, as if there were no danger whatever, and lightly leaped across to some rough pieces of rock.

The distance was nothing, but the depths below made it seem an awful leap, till Bart felt that the Doctor must have gone over it before him, and without further hesitation he bounded across and stood beside the chief, who led the way farther into the rift to where, some fifty feet from the entrance, the Doctor was standing, hammer in hand, gazing intently at the newly chipped rock and the fragments that lay around.

"At last, Bart!" he cried joyously.

"What! Is it a vein?" said Bart, eagerly.

"A vein, boy? It is a mountain of silver--a valley of silver. Here are great threads of the precious metal, and masses of ore as well. It seems as if it ran right down the sides of the canyon, and from what the Indian appears to know, it does, Bart, I never expected to make such a find as this."

As he spoke, he handed pieces of the rock to Bart, who found that in some there were angular pieces of what seemed to be native silver, while others were full of threads and veins, or appeared as pieces of dull metalliferous stone.

"It is a huge fortune--wealth untold, Bart," said the Doctor.

"Is it, sir?" said Bart coolly, for he could not feel the same rapture as the Doctor.

"Is it, boy? Yes! enormous wealth."

"But how are we to carry it away, sir?" asked Bart dryly.

"Carry it away! Why, do you not understand that this mine will want working, and that we must have a large number of men here? But no; you cannot conceive the greatness of this find."

As he spoke, the Doctor hurried to the mouth of the rift, and then cautiously lowered himself into the chasm, over which Bart had leaped, clinging to the stout stems of the various shrubs.

For a few moments Bart hesitated. Then he followed till they were both quite a hundred feet below the shelf, and the part of the rift they had first entered, and were able to creep right out till they were level with the side of the canyon, and able to look down to the river.

But the Doctor did not care to look down upon the river, for tearing away some of the thick growth from the rock, he cast it behind him, so that it fell far out into the canyon. Then two or three pieces of rock followed, and somehow Bart felt more interested in their fall than in the search for silver, listening in the hope of hearing them crash down deep in the great stream.

"Yes; as I thought," cried the Doctor, excitedly, "the vein or mass runs right down the side of this vast canyon, Bart--the Silver Canyon, we must call it. But come, let's get back. I must tell my child. Such a discovery was never made before. Discovery, do I say! Why, these poor ignorant Indians must have known of it for years, perhaps for generations, and beyond working up a few pieces to make themselves rings for their horses' lariats, or to secure their saddles, they have left is as it is."

As he spoke, he was already climbing up towards the shelf, his excitement in his tremendous find making him forget the risks he kept running, for to one in cool blood, the face of the rock, the insecurity of the shrubs to which he clung, and the many times that silver-veined stones gave way beneath his feet, were very terrible, and Bart drew his breath hard, climbing slowly after his companion till at last they stood once more upon the shelf.

And all this time the Beaver was looking calmly on, following each movement, helping his white friends to climb where it was necessary, and seeming half amused at the Doctor's intense eagerness. In fact, Bart fancied that at times he looked rather contemptuously on at the Doctor's delight with what he found, for it was so much whitey-grey metallic stone to him, and as nothing beside the possession of a fine swift pony, or an ample supply of powder and lead. _

Read next: Chapter 17. Untrustworthy Sentinels

Read previous: Chapter 15. Dangerous Neighbours

Table of content of Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book