ed to the late
Mr Osten was near the goldfields; that it was not a rich one by any
means, and that his advice to Will was to go and see it for himself.
Accepting the advice, our hero expended the greater part of his
remaining cash in purchasing provisions, etcetera, for the journey to
the Sacramento River. By steamer they accomplished the first part of
it, and on horseback progressed north-eastward until they drew near to
the mighty mountain range named the Sierra Nevada.
On the way they had more than enough of company, for men of every clime
and of all ages, between sixteen and fifty, were travelling on every
description of horse and mule in the same direction. From most of
these, however, they parted on reaching the entrance to the narrow
valley in which the estate was said to lie.
"Is it far up the valley?" asked Will Osten of the landlord of the last
ranche, or inn (a small hovel) in which they had passed the night.
"Not far," replied the innkeeper, a shrewd intelligent Yankee, with a
touch of the nasal tone for which the race is noted; "guess it's about
three leagues off."
"A wild gloomy sort o' place, no doubt?" asked Larry.
"Rayther. It'll stand tamin' a bit. There's nobody lives in the whole
valley 'xcept a band o' miners who have been prospectin' all over it an'
locatin' themselves in the house without leave."
"Locatin', is it?" exclaimed Larry, "faix, it's vacatin' it they'll be,
widout so much as `by yer lave,' this night."
"Have they found much gold, do you know?" asked Will Osten.
"Believe not," replied the innkeeper. "It's not a likely place--though
there _may_ be some, for gold has been found below this, as you would
see, I s'pose, when you passed the diggers on Cocktail Creek."
Bidding the host good-bye, our hero and his friends rode off to take
possession of the estate. They were well armed, for, in these days,
might, not right, was the law of the land.
It was evening before they reached the head of the valley where stood
the house or wooden cottage which had been the abode of Will's eccentric
old relative. The scenery was savage and forbidding in the extreme.
Lofty mountains rose on every side, and only a small portion of the land
in the neighbourhood of the dwelling had been brought under cultivation.
The house itself was a low long-shaped building, and stood on the banks
of a stream which gushed and tumbled furiously along its rocky bed, as
if in hot haste to escape from t
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