T
XLII
THE DISCOVERY OF GOLD 1848
HE volunteers came home to their wives and sweethearts the Indian scare was over. The old idyllic life went on, more united, more ideal after the tempest. Up and down the tributary valleys of the Willamette many a young couple staked out their square mile. Like shadows the Indians drew back into the forest, dumb, patient, vanishing. The volunteers put aside their buffalo-guns. The war-horse captured in battle was hitched to the plough. Harvest was at its height when a schooner from Yerba Buena came into the Willamette. Almost before his barque was moored the Yankee trader began to buy knives, spades, picks, pans, flour.
"What are you going to do with that sort of cargo, Cap'n?" inquired the settlers, handing over their unused picks and spades.
"Oh, hardware for the Spaniards," was the nonchalant reply as he stacked them away in the schooner. With lading complete and sails trimmed, the Yankee captain, by way of good-bye, held up a sack of golddust. "The hills of California are made of that," he said. An incredulous burst of laughter followed the retreating ship.
The brig from Newburyport came rushing in for picks and pans and flour. Douglas entered the Columbia from the Islands at the same time. "Pooh-pooh!
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