Digging for Gold 1

Digging for Gold 1

Digging for Gold

A Story of California

Author: Horatio Alger, Jr.

 

CONTENTS.

 

CHAPTER PAGE

 

I. GRANT AND HIS MOTHER, 1

II. RODNEY BARTLETT, 10

III. A TERRIBLE RESPONSIBILITY, 20

IV. GRANT SAVES THE TRAIN, 29

V. GRANT ORDERS A NEW SUIT, 38

VI. SETH TARBOX MAKES A DISCOVERY, 47

VII. GRANT MAKES UP HIS MIND, 57

VIII. ALL IS SETTLED, 66

IX. THE LONG JOURNEY BEGINS, 76

X. MR. SILVERTHORN’S TREACHERY, 86

XI. AN INDIAN ENCOUNTER, 96

XII. IN DIRE DISTRESS, 105

XIII. THE SOLITARY CABIN, 114

XIV. THE NEW ACQUAINTANCE, 123

XV. ARRIVAL AT SACRAMENTO, 132

XVI. GRANT GETS A JOB, 137

XVII. AN UNPLEASANT ADVENTURE, 142

XVIII. A TRUE FRIEND, 149

XIX. GRANT FALLS UNDER SUSPICION, 158

XX. BENTON IS TRAPPED, 168

XXI. ALBERT BENTON IS UNMASKED, 176

XXII. PULLING UP STAKES, 188

XXIII. THE FIRST DAY AT THE MINES, 197

XXIV. GRANT HAS AN ADVENTURE, 205

XXV. ANOTHER LONELY CABIN, 211

XXVI. NAHUM STOCKTON, 219

XXVII. PAUL CRAMBO, 226

XXVIII. THE BEGINNING OF SUCCESS, 236

XXIX. BENTON HAS A PLAN, 246

XXX. BENTON LAYS HIS PLANS, 256

XXXI. BENTON OPENS THE TRUNK, 262

XXXII. A LETTER FROM MR. CROSMONT, 272

XXXIII. ON TO THE GOLDEN GATE, 277

XXXIV. A STARTLING INCIDENT, 283

XXXV. A TRAGEDY, 293

XXXVI. THE TARBOX FAMILY, 303

XXXVII. MRS. BARTLETT’S LITTLE SCHEME 314

XXXVIII. FINDING THE PRODIGAL, 322

XXXIX. GRANT HEARS FROM HOME, 332

XL. CONCLUSIONS, 340

 

 

 

 

DIGGING FOR GOLD.

 

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CHAPTER I.

GRANT AND HIS MOTHER.

 

 

“Mother, this is an important day for me,” said Grant Colburn, as he

entered the kitchen with an armful of wood, and deposited it in the box

behind the stove.

 

His mother looked up from the table where she was cutting out pie crust,

and asked in surprise, “What do you mean, Grant? Why is to-day any

different from ordinary days?”

 

“I am sixteen to-day, mother!”

 

“So you are, Grant. I ought to have thought of it. I am sorry,” she

added wistfully, “that I haven’t got a present for you, but you know Mr.

Tarbox——”

 

“Is the stingiest man in the country. Yes, I know that well enough.”

 

“I actually haven’t a cent that I can call my own, Grant.”

 

“I know that very well, mother. It was an unlucky day when you married

that old skinflint.”

 

“Don’t call him that, Grant,” said his mother, with an apprehensive look

in the direction of the door.

 

“He’s all that, and more if possible. When did he give you any money

last?”

 

“Two weeks ago.”

 

“And how much did he give you at that time?”

 

“Twenty-five cents.”

 

“What a shame! Why, if you had hired out as his housekeeper he would

have been compelled to give you more.”

 

“Yes, Grant,” sighed Mrs. Tarbox, “I wish I were his housekeeper instead

of his wife. I should be more independent.”

 

“He made a good bargain when he married you, mother. But I never

understood why you married _him_.”

 

“I acted for the best, as I thought, Grant. You know how your poor

father left us. After his affairs were settled, there were only two

hundred and fifty dollars left, and you were but twelve years old. I

took in sewing, and earned what I could, but at the end of a year I had

used up a hundred dollars of our small capital. Then Mr. Tarbox asked me

to marry him, and I agreed, for I thought it would give us a comfortable

home.”

 

“A comfortable home!” repeated Grant. “We have enough to eat, it is

true, but you never worked so hard in your life, and I can say the same

for myself. I was barely fourteen when Mr. Tarbox took me away from

school, and since then I have had to work early and late. At five

o’clock, winter and summer, I have to turn out of bed, and work all day,

so that when night comes I am dead tired.”

 

“That is true, Grant,” said his mother, with a look of distress. “You

work too hard for a boy of your age.”

 

“And what do I get for it?” continued Grant indignantly. “I haven’t any

clothes. Charlie Titus asked me the other day why I didn’t go to church.

I was ashamed to tell him that it was because I had no clothes fit to

wear there. It is a year since I had my last suit, and now I have grown

out of it. My coat is too short in the sleeves, and my pantaloons in the

legs.”

 

“Perhaps I can lengthen them out, Grant.”

 

“You did it six months ago. There is no more chance. No, I’ll tell you

what I am going to do. I’ll ask Mr. Tarbox for a new suit, and as it is

my birthday, perhaps he will open his heart and be generous for once.”

 

“It is a good plan, Grant. There he is now, out by the well curb.”

 

“Then I’ll speak at once. Wish me luck, mother.”

 

“I do, my son. I heartily wish you good luck now and always.”

 

Grant opened the side door, and went out into the yard. Seth Tarbox

looked up, and his glance fell upon his step-son.

 

“Come here, Grant,” he said, “I want you to turn the grindstone while I

sharpen my scythe.”

 

“Wait a minute, Mr. Tarbox. I want to speak to you.”

 

“Go ahead! You can speak if you want to,” said Tarbox, slightly

surprised.

 

“It is my birthday to-day.”

 

“Is it? How old be you?”

 

“Sixteen.”

 

“A boy of sixteen ought to do a great deal of work. Why, you are ’most a

man.”

 

“I do a good deal of work, Mr. Tarbox, but I don’t seem to get much pay

for it.”

 

“Hey? You want pay? Why, don’t you get your victuals and clothes?”

 

“I get my victuals, yes. But I don’t get clothes, and that is just what

I want to speak to you about.”

 

Mr. Tarbox began to grow uneasy. He knew what was coming.

 

“What have you got on, I’d like to know?” he inquired.

 

“Some rags and overalls,” answered Grant bluntly.

 

“They’re good enough to work in. You’ve got a suit to wear Sundays.”

 

“Have I? It’s hardly fit to wear common days. Why, it’s a year since I

had the suit, and I’ve outgrown it.”

 

“I’m afraid you’re getting proud, Grant,” said his step-father uneasily.

 

“I’m not proud of my clothes, I can tell you that. Mr. Tarbox, I’ve

worked for you the last year early and late, and I think I ought to have

a new suit. It will make a nice birthday present.”

 

“Money’s very skerce, Grant,” said his step-father uneasily, “and

clothes are very high. I gave twelve dollars for that last suit of

yours. It came hard. Think how long it takes to earn twelve dollars. I

haven’t had a suit myself for ten months.”