Gold Rush Boy

"Nah. I’ll get closer." He looped the reins around the brake handle as I stepped down. "Says ‘Ring bell’."

"What bell?"

"There. It’s an iron bar bent like a triangle and ya hit it with this piece of iron hangin’ here by it. Our neighbors up on the Erie Canal had one. ‘Wake the dead!’ my ma used to say." I reached up, took the striker and hit the triangle a couple of times.

A minute or two later I figured no one heard, and was about to smack it again when a tall fellow sauntered down the path toward us carryin’ a lantern.

"Howdy, men!"

"Howdy! I’m Seth. This here is Billy. We’re lookin’ for a camp, at least for the night."

"Your team an’ wagon?"

"Sure."

"I’m Charlie, camp manager. Bein’ Sunday, we’re gathered at the fire pit – little cookin’, lots of talk. Not much of a trail, but I’ll lead the way up and show ya a level space to park for the night."

He watched us turn off the road and follow his lantern about a hundred paces toward embers risin’ from the fire pit. We could hear the creek a few steps to our right. We stopped and stepped down. "How many men in camp, Charlie?"

"Eight right now. If you want to cook anythin’ ’fore you turn in you’re welcome to sit at the pit. ’Course, you can just sit and talk if you like." He walked on toward the pit, but stopped when I asked, "Any dogs in camp? Wagger’s a good dog, but dogs is dogs, you know."

"No dogs ’cept yours." He raised a hand and walked on. Tall. Tall as me. He was friendly. I liked that. We scotched the wheels before we unhitched the team and hobbled ’em. They eased over to the creek and took on some water. Musta found some tasty grass, but left it and came back to the wagon when they heard Billy uncover our supply of hay. He threw some on the ground for ‘em.

"Want to walk up to the fire pit, BiIly?"

"For a little while, I guess. I’m ready to call it a day when you are."

We tied our tarp over the wagon and told Wagger he was on duty.

"Men, this is Seth and Billy. Lookin’ for a camp. Got a team pullin’ their own wagon and a dog. Sit if you like, men."

We said, "Howdy", and sat on one of the vacant logs. "Fire sure feels good."

"You come over the high pass or up from the coast?" one fellow asked gently.

"Up from the coast. Took longer than we thought it would. Our ship arrived about six weeks ago."

"What ship?"

"The Chincoteague, a clipper out of New York."

"Chincoteague Bay! Haven’t heard of that since I was a kid. My folks used to take us there a few days each summer. Real nice place. Swim in the bay, ride them little black and white ponies."

"Well, you boys just missed Charlie’s readin’. Think we’ll finish Othello next Sunday, Charlie?"

"Could – if we start early enough."

"Well, when you fellows rang the bell down at the road, I was just sayin’ I think Othello should have seen that what was goin’ on. Coulda saved a lot of trouble."

Wally stood up and motioned toward our wagon with his tin plate of supper scraps. I nodded. He walked over and set his plate on the ground near the rear wheel, spoke to Wagger and rubbed his ears. As soon as Wally turned back to the fire pit, Wagger hopped down and cleaned the tin plate good.

"You just made a friend for life, Wally."

Charlie cleared his throat. We’ll have a short meetin’ at first light in the mornin’ to vote on Seth and Billy stayin’ for a week." He looked at us. "Boys, we only got a few rules. The size of claims varies from camp to camp. Here they’re sixteen by sixteen feet and they may extend into the creek, but not more than halfway across. Space for additional claims is limited by all those huge granite boulders just upstream there and by trees and such growin’ right down to the creek bank startin’ down there toward the road. Got a tent?"

We nodded.

"Pitch where you please long as you don’t crowd nobody. Some flat ground across the creek would do for short-term, but my guess is it’ll get wet when snow thaws. We won’t tolerate any stealin’, fightin’, an’ such. I’m turnin’ in. I’ll build up the fire at first light. Guess you know not to leave food where it’ll draw animals."

"Sure, and we got our bear dog."

That brought a laugh. "What’s your dog’s name?"

"Wagger."