Novel 1981 - Comstock Lode (v5.0) by Louis L’Amour Page A
Authors: Louis L’Amour
Tags: Usenet
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magic, tin cups appeared, and by the time the teamster, whip in hand, came striding back, the situation was too far out of hand to permit interference. With a shrug he accepted the cup of whiskey extended as a peace offering, drank it, and returned to his team.
Slowly they worked their way up the steep, winding trail bordered by pines. It was a brutal road, horses, mules, and men scrambling over rocks, slipping on ice, plunging and buck-jumping through occasional drifts, turning out to avoid rock falls or small slides. Despite the trail they made good time.
Occasionally they were passed by pack trains of ore returning from the mines.
At the ridge’s crest they drew up to let the mules catch their breath and to drink the clear, cold water of a rivulet that fell from the bank in a miniature cascade, and crossed the trail to pitch off into the canyon.
Ledbetter walked back to Trevallion. “It’s like every boom camp in the world, Val. Everybody hopes to strike it rich, many of them believe they have, others are con men just looking for a gullible newcomer to whom they can sell their claim or a piece of one. Everybody has ‘feet’ to sell, and most of it ain’t worth the price of a Digger Injun’s breakfast.”
He paused, gesturing toward the east. “There’s forty or fifty pieces of good ground up there and several dozen others where a man can dig a living. That’s about it. Why, I know of some claims that have been sold time and again without anybody seeing a color.”
Ledbetter bit off a chew and offered the plug. Trevallion declined. Ledbetter glanced sharply at him. “Didn’t you an’ your pa come this way?”
“We did.”
“Man, I’ll never forget that Forty-Mile Desert ifen I live to be a hundred. Dead animals ever’ few feet and busted down wagons scattered all over.”
Later, at a widening of the trail, Melissa rode up beside Ledbetter. “You all right?” he asked her.
“Yes, sir.”
“You got a pair o’ man’s pants? Be a sight easier if you rode astride on these steep slopes. I know it ain’t what’s considered ladylike, but you’ll see most womenfolks usin’ them on the road.”
“I’ll be all right.” A few steps further along she asked, “Who is he?”
“Trevallion? He’s a Cousin Jack. That means he’s from Cornwall, over in England. They’re about the only ones around who know anything about hard-rock mining.”
“I mean…
who
is he?”
“He’s a loner, ma’am, a hard, tough, dangerous man. He rides alone, walks alone, lives alone. There’s nothing to him that ain’t rawhide and iron, but if a body’s in any kind of trouble, he’s the man you want beside you.
“If you’ve got ore, he will get it out. If you lose a lead, he’ll find it for you quicker than anybody I know. He knows
ground,
ma’am, mining ground. He knows how to load his holes so the ground breaks fine, and he’s one of the best men with a single-jack I ever did see.”
“What’s a single-jack?”
“It’s a small sledgehammer, ma’am. That’s about the easiest way to explain it. Used with one hand, for drillin’ into rock. A double-jack is used with two hands and is a reg’lar sledgehammer. Mostly one man turns the drill, the other strikes it. Trevallion is
good
. The best I ever did see. He’s got more power in those shoulders and arms…well, that’s one way to build power, swinging a double-jack.
“He come over from the old country with his folks. Beyond that nobody knows much about him. A few years back when he was only about sixteen he hired out to deliver twenty thousand dollars in gold to a bank in Sacramento. There were outlaws after that gold and Injun trouble, too. When he didn’t show up folks figured him for dead. Three months later he come down out of the woods lookin’ like the wrath of God. He had two festerin’ arrow wounds and was wore down to skin an’ bone, but he brought in the gold, ever’ pinch of it.” Ledbetter paused. “Such things get talked
Slowly they worked their way up the steep, winding trail bordered by pines. It was a brutal road, horses, mules, and men scrambling over rocks, slipping on ice, plunging and buck-jumping through occasional drifts, turning out to avoid rock falls or small slides. Despite the trail they made good time.
Occasionally they were passed by pack trains of ore returning from the mines.
At the ridge’s crest they drew up to let the mules catch their breath and to drink the clear, cold water of a rivulet that fell from the bank in a miniature cascade, and crossed the trail to pitch off into the canyon.
Ledbetter walked back to Trevallion. “It’s like every boom camp in the world, Val. Everybody hopes to strike it rich, many of them believe they have, others are con men just looking for a gullible newcomer to whom they can sell their claim or a piece of one. Everybody has ‘feet’ to sell, and most of it ain’t worth the price of a Digger Injun’s breakfast.”
He paused, gesturing toward the east. “There’s forty or fifty pieces of good ground up there and several dozen others where a man can dig a living. That’s about it. Why, I know of some claims that have been sold time and again without anybody seeing a color.”
Ledbetter bit off a chew and offered the plug. Trevallion declined. Ledbetter glanced sharply at him. “Didn’t you an’ your pa come this way?”
“We did.”
“Man, I’ll never forget that Forty-Mile Desert ifen I live to be a hundred. Dead animals ever’ few feet and busted down wagons scattered all over.”
Later, at a widening of the trail, Melissa rode up beside Ledbetter. “You all right?” he asked her.
“Yes, sir.”
“You got a pair o’ man’s pants? Be a sight easier if you rode astride on these steep slopes. I know it ain’t what’s considered ladylike, but you’ll see most womenfolks usin’ them on the road.”
“I’ll be all right.” A few steps further along she asked, “Who is he?”
“Trevallion? He’s a Cousin Jack. That means he’s from Cornwall, over in England. They’re about the only ones around who know anything about hard-rock mining.”
“I mean…
who
is he?”
“He’s a loner, ma’am, a hard, tough, dangerous man. He rides alone, walks alone, lives alone. There’s nothing to him that ain’t rawhide and iron, but if a body’s in any kind of trouble, he’s the man you want beside you.
“If you’ve got ore, he will get it out. If you lose a lead, he’ll find it for you quicker than anybody I know. He knows
ground,
ma’am, mining ground. He knows how to load his holes so the ground breaks fine, and he’s one of the best men with a single-jack I ever did see.”
“What’s a single-jack?”
“It’s a small sledgehammer, ma’am. That’s about the easiest way to explain it. Used with one hand, for drillin’ into rock. A double-jack is used with two hands and is a reg’lar sledgehammer. Mostly one man turns the drill, the other strikes it. Trevallion is
good
. The best I ever did see. He’s got more power in those shoulders and arms…well, that’s one way to build power, swinging a double-jack.
“He come over from the old country with his folks. Beyond that nobody knows much about him. A few years back when he was only about sixteen he hired out to deliver twenty thousand dollars in gold to a bank in Sacramento. There were outlaws after that gold and Injun trouble, too. When he didn’t show up folks figured him for dead. Three months later he come down out of the woods lookin’ like the wrath of God. He had two festerin’ arrow wounds and was wore down to skin an’ bone, but he brought in the gold, ever’ pinch of it.” Ledbetter paused. “Such things get talked
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