Chapter 7: A New Face

We pushed on for some days, and now began to find that the aspect of the country was changing. It became more sterile and more mountainous. Flowing water was scarcer, and as a precaution against thirst we refilled our leather bottles every time we came to a stream. At first we met a stray wanderer or two, and we passed one party searching, like ourselves, for gold, but after the first week we saw nobody.

As our packs of provisions had been lightened somewhat and we were growing footsore from the long journey, we increased the burdens of our mules very often. That is, at times we compelled them to carry us as well as our baggage. Despite their diminutive stature they were able to support the additional burden, for we gave them plenty of rest and grass and water. I verily believe one of those tough little creatures could have carried a whole house on his back, had any one been able to put it there.

We camped one evening in the partially dry bed of a little river. There were some pools of water glistening in the channel not far away, and while Bonneau was cooking our supper I strolled along this channel. I knew that gold was found frequently in such places, and it occured to me that I might have luck enough to discover some bits of it. I had informed myself sufficiently, and had seen enough of the metal in San Francisco, as it is deposited by nature, to know it when I met it.

Looking and poking among the sands I strayed some distance from the camp. It was a winding channel, and glancing back I found that a hill quite hid the rest of our party from view. But as it still lacked some time of sunset, I continued to search.

Presently, across the muddy channel from me I noticed some particles gleaming among the sands. Instantly with enthusiasm I took them to be grains of gold, glittering as if they were highly polished five-dollar gold pieces. In my eagerness I started helter skelter across the channel. At the first step my foot sank somewhat, but I scarcely noticed it until, with each succeeding step, my foot sank deeper and then I knew that I was mired in a quicksand.

I was not much, alarmed at first, and endeavored to turn, back and pull myself out of the slough, but I sank deeper, and the sand and mud seemed to press around my legs like the earth around a coffin. I was buried above my knees, and at every effort I made to drag myself up something seemed to seize me by the feet and pull me further downward with a power that ridiculed my feeble muscles.

I struggled and fought and tore at the sand with my hands as if I were mad, but the soft stuff pressed closer around me and drew me further down. I shouted for help, hoping the boys at the camp would hear me, but no answer came to my cries. I might as well have shouted to the rocks that stood up gray and grim on the distant mountain side.

I struggled until I was exhausted, and then I stood upright and gazed around me in the faint hope that I might see some one coming to my rescue. But nowhere was there a sign of human life, and as I felt myself sinking lower and lower I gave up hope. I had faced danger and death before, but never a death like this which now threatened me. I had heard of the Apache Indians who buried their captives in the earth to the neck and then left them there to die of heat, hunger and thirst, or to be torn to pieces by the wolves, but my fate seemed even worse, for I was sinking down, down, down, and when my friends came to find me there would be no trace of me left. I was unable to bear longer the sight of the white clouds and the green grass in the distance, and I closed my eyes, waiting thus for the engulfing sand to do its will.

“Hold up your arms, so my rope can fall down around your body!” shouted a loud voice.

I opened my eyes and saw a man who carried a coil of rope over his shoulder running down towards me. I noticed very little about him just then save that he was a stranger, but I shouted aloud in joy and eagerness, and in the revulsion the blood flew back from my heart.

“Throw up your arms,” he shouted again, “and I will save you!”

Up went my arms. The stranger stopped at the edge of the sand, took the coil of rope from his shoulder, whirled it around his head and then threw it towards me. The stout coil hissed through the air and then the loop dropped down over my head, grazed my arms and, encircling me, fell upon the sand.

“Now, young man,” shouted the stranger, “brace yourself, if you don’t want to be pulled in two. When I haul on this rope something is bound to give way. It will be you or it will be the sand. I can’t yet tell which.”

“Pull away,” I cried, “I’ll take the chances!”

The rope tightened around my waist and even cut into the flesh, but I clinched my teeth together and uttered no complaint.

“Pull! Pull!” I shouted.

“Don’t worry,” he returned. “I’ll pull hard, and I’ve got good muscles, too.”

He put his feet against a stone and dragged on the rope with powerful arms. The hard coil compressed my chest and almost cut off my breath, but with a feeling of the most intense joy I realized that I was slipping from the tenacious and deadly clutch of the sand. I was slowly rising.

“My, my! but this is hot work,” he cried.

Then he stopped and wiped the perspiration from his face.

“Pull on! Pull on!” I shouted.

“Never fear,” he said, coiling his rope around the stone, “I’ve got you tight and fast. You can’t slip back. I want to give you a little rest, for I thought I heard a joint giving way.”

In a few moments he began to pull again. I felt the sand slipping from me. Its grip around me loosened, and presently, half dragged by the rope, I scrambled over the treacherous river bed and reached solid earth again. For a full minute I lay there weak and exhausted, while the man looked down sympathetically at me.

“A very close shave my young friend,” he said. “I do not know what adventures you have had in the course of your life, but doubtless none of them has brought you nearer to death than that.”

As I revived I noticed for the first time his grammatical language and well-modulated voice. Then I sat up and looked at him more critically. He was middle-aged, tall and strong, and had a fine, clean-cut face. The clothing was that of a frontiersman, but the face was not.

“You have saved my life,” I said.

“No doubt of it,” he replied. “Your remark is not original.”

“I don’t know who you are,” I said, “but I thank you as much as words can express the thanks of one who is under such heavy obligations.”

“I am under obligations to you,” he said, “for you have furnished me with a pleasant bit of excitement and have also enabled me to feel that pleasing glow which one experiences only when he has done a great service to a fellow-being. I am in your debt, sir.”

I looked curiously at the man. He observed my inquiring gaze, and it seemed to gratify him.

“I arouse your curiosity,” he said, with a smile. “You are wondering who I am. You behold in me the Hermit of the Hills.”

I stared harder than ever, which seemed to contribute to his amusement. Then he added:

“You are almost as much in the dark as ever. Well, I am not a man of mystery.! My name is James Sheldon, formerly of New York City, U. S. A., and if you will first tell me something about yourself and how you came to be stuck in the sand there on your way through to China I will give you further information about myself.”

I explained briefly who I was and to what party I belonged, suppressing of course the story of the hidden mine, merely saying that we were gold hunters. Then I told how I became mired in the quicksand.

“That is what gold does for people sometimes,” he commented.

“But take me to those friends of yours,” he said, “it has been so long since I have enjoyed good society that I really think I could appreciate it very much now.”

The man’s manner, as well as his language, was good, and his expression was certainly frank and open. I had no hesitation in taking him to our camp, and as I had now fully recovered my strength I led the way.

“Have you seen much of wild life, my young friend?” he asked as we walked along.

I told him that I had made a long and adventurous journey with my companions across the plains.

“And what do you think of man’s life in the wilderness, unhampered, and perhaps, I may add also, unmarred by artificial restraints?”

I could not see the bearing of these questions, but I answered that the wilderness certainly had its charms and also its inconveniences.