off the seat.
***
The August sun on the Peninsula was hot, far too hot. Francis dragged his limp lace handkerchief over his face and regretted the moment of weakness in which he'd agreed to come out here. "I've only been to this awful hole in the ground twice in my life," he said. "I'm not sure I can find it again."
"Oh, you'll find it," Gabe said. Between them, Vangie held the reins and watched the roan and occasionally glanced around at the barren countryside. Her bad temper seemed to have worked itself out on the act of driving, much to Francis' relief, and though there hadn't been that much conversation on the ride out at least they'd all been friendly to one another.
But now there was the problem of finding the supposed mine. "But what if I can't find it?" Francis asked. "I'd hate to have brought us all out here for nothing."
"You'll find it," Gabe told him, "because we're gonna stay out here and look for it until you do."
The sun instantly became ten degrees hotter. "Uh," Francis said, and mopped his brow, and looked around harder for something to recognize.
They passed a place where some hopeful hardrocker had tried to strike it rich. Vangie said, "I didn't know anyone ever found any gold on the Peninsula. I thought it was all in the mountains across the Bay."
"Well they did find a few traces, apparently," Francis said. "But to my chagrin that's all they were. Traces."
"But there's a tunnel," Gabe said.
"Yes."
"Well that's all we need."
"For what?" Vangie asked.
"Just an idea I have," he said.
"It's still that craziness about the Mint, isn't it?"
"Could be," Gabe said easily. "What's wrong with that?"
"Only one thing," she said. "If you try anything anywhere near that Mint they'll catch you. If they don't kill you on the spot, they'll put you away somewhere until you've got a long grey beard. Or maybe they'll just fall all over you-ten or fifteen of those guards we saw up there-and by the time they get finished with you, your skin won't be worth tanning. That's what's wrong."
"Well," Gabe replied obscurely, "chicken today, feathers tomorrow." And he grinned at her.
It was all steep hills down the spine of the Peninsula here, stands of pine and redwood among the rocks. As they prowled farther into the morning and into the noon sun, Francis drooped lower and lower in the seat. He was afraid he'd missed the turnoff, and he didn't doubt that Gabe had meant what he'd said about keeping him out here until he found the mine. It looked like it was going to be a long dry spell… No. There it was, right ahead. He straightened up. "That little dirt track. Turn off the road there."
Vangie swung the buckboard expertly into the twin ruts and they went jouncing up into the trees. It was cool here in the shade and Francis began to feel somewhat less suicidal. "Just ahead now, on the left. There'll be another fork and we take the left one."
"Well I told you not to expect anything," he said defensively.
The place was nothing but a wide spot in the rocks and a man-sized hole in the hillside. The tunnel disappeared back into the mountain. Claim stakes stood at the corners of the claim; the previous owners' names had been scratched out and FRANCIS CALHOUN was printed conspicuously on each stake.
Gabe stood backed against a rock, thumbs hooked in his pockets, scowling, chewing a cigar, while Vangie fashioned a torch out of a broken branch and some twigs and grass. When she handed it to Gabe she smiled with mock-sweetness but Gabe ignored it, ducked into the tunnel, and lit the torch.
It had been a long and bumpy ride, coming out. "Excuse me," Francis said to Vangie and went off into the woods to commune with Nature.
When he returned he found Gabe and Vangie wrapped around each other as if they were the only survivors
***
The August sun on the Peninsula was hot, far too hot. Francis dragged his limp lace handkerchief over his face and regretted the moment of weakness in which he'd agreed to come out here. "I've only been to this awful hole in the ground twice in my life," he said. "I'm not sure I can find it again."
"Oh, you'll find it," Gabe said. Between them, Vangie held the reins and watched the roan and occasionally glanced around at the barren countryside. Her bad temper seemed to have worked itself out on the act of driving, much to Francis' relief, and though there hadn't been that much conversation on the ride out at least they'd all been friendly to one another.
But now there was the problem of finding the supposed mine. "But what if I can't find it?" Francis asked. "I'd hate to have brought us all out here for nothing."
"You'll find it," Gabe told him, "because we're gonna stay out here and look for it until you do."
The sun instantly became ten degrees hotter. "Uh," Francis said, and mopped his brow, and looked around harder for something to recognize.
They passed a place where some hopeful hardrocker had tried to strike it rich. Vangie said, "I didn't know anyone ever found any gold on the Peninsula. I thought it was all in the mountains across the Bay."
"Well they did find a few traces, apparently," Francis said. "But to my chagrin that's all they were. Traces."
"But there's a tunnel," Gabe said.
"Yes."
"Well that's all we need."
"For what?" Vangie asked.
"Just an idea I have," he said.
"It's still that craziness about the Mint, isn't it?"
"Could be," Gabe said easily. "What's wrong with that?"
"Only one thing," she said. "If you try anything anywhere near that Mint they'll catch you. If they don't kill you on the spot, they'll put you away somewhere until you've got a long grey beard. Or maybe they'll just fall all over you-ten or fifteen of those guards we saw up there-and by the time they get finished with you, your skin won't be worth tanning. That's what's wrong."
"Well," Gabe replied obscurely, "chicken today, feathers tomorrow." And he grinned at her.
It was all steep hills down the spine of the Peninsula here, stands of pine and redwood among the rocks. As they prowled farther into the morning and into the noon sun, Francis drooped lower and lower in the seat. He was afraid he'd missed the turnoff, and he didn't doubt that Gabe had meant what he'd said about keeping him out here until he found the mine. It looked like it was going to be a long dry spell… No. There it was, right ahead. He straightened up. "That little dirt track. Turn off the road there."
Vangie swung the buckboard expertly into the twin ruts and they went jouncing up into the trees. It was cool here in the shade and Francis began to feel somewhat less suicidal. "Just ahead now, on the left. There'll be another fork and we take the left one."
"Well I told you not to expect anything," he said defensively.
The place was nothing but a wide spot in the rocks and a man-sized hole in the hillside. The tunnel disappeared back into the mountain. Claim stakes stood at the corners of the claim; the previous owners' names had been scratched out and FRANCIS CALHOUN was printed conspicuously on each stake.
Gabe stood backed against a rock, thumbs hooked in his pockets, scowling, chewing a cigar, while Vangie fashioned a torch out of a broken branch and some twigs and grass. When she handed it to Gabe she smiled with mock-sweetness but Gabe ignored it, ducked into the tunnel, and lit the torch.
It had been a long and bumpy ride, coming out. "Excuse me," Francis said to Vangie and went off into the woods to commune with Nature.
When he returned he found Gabe and Vangie wrapped around each other as if they were the only survivors
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