Digging for Gold 16

Digging for Gold 16

“Shut the door, quick,” he said, “or I may be tempted to take what does

not belong to me.”

 

“My dear boy,” said the stranger, and over his rugged features came a

smile that lighted them up wonderfully; “it is yours. Help yourself.”

 

Grant took a cracker and ate it quickly. Then he took a knife that lay

beside the meat and cut off a slice, which he likewise disposed of. Then

he remembered himself.

 

“I am selfish,” he said. “I am satisfying my appetite, while my poor

friends are suffering from hunger.”

 

“Bring them with you. They shall breakfast with me. Or stay. I will go

with you and invite them myself.”

 

Grant left the cabin with his new friend. As he walked by his side he

surveyed him with curiosity and interest. He was a tall man—six feet

two, at the least, and he walked with a long stride, which he moderated

when he found Grant had trouble to keep up with him. He was dressed in a

gray mixed suit, and on his head he wore a soft hat. Despite his

appearance and surroundings, Grant was led to think that he had passed a

part of his life at least in a city.

 

“I see a question in your face,” said the unknown. “You wonder how it

happens that I am living alone in this wilderness. Is it not so?”

 

“Yes, sir; I could not help wondering.”

 

“I have been here but a month. I am one of an overland party that passed

here four weeks since. In wandering about I found this cabin, and I

asked myself how it would seem to live here alone—practically out of the

world. I always liked to try experiments, and notified the party of my

intention. Indeed, I did not care to remain with them, for they were not

at all congenial. They thought me crazy; but I insisted, and remained

here with a sufficient supply of provisions to last me three months.”

 

“And how have you enjoyed yourself, sir?”

 

“Well, I can’t say I have enjoyed myself; but I have had plenty of time

to meditate. There have been disappointments in my life,” he added

gravely, “that have embittered my existence and led to a life of

solitude.”

 

“Do you expect to remain the entire three months?” asked Grant.

 

“If I had been asked that question this morning I should have

unhesitatingly answered in the affirmative. Now—I don’t know why it

is—perhaps it is the unexpected sight of a fellow being—I begin to think

that I should enjoy returning to human companionship. You cannot

understand, till you have been wholly alone for a month, how pleasant it

seems to exchange speech with another.”

 

This remark gave Grant a hint.

 

“Why not join our party?” he said. “There are but four of us. You would

make the fifth. We are going to the mines, if we ever get through this

wilderness.”

 

“Tell me something of your companions.”

 

“Mr. Cooper is a blacksmith. He has lived all his life in Iowa, and is a

good man. His wife is with him, and his son Tom, who is a fine, manly

young fellow of twenty-one or two.”

 

“Very well. Now I have been introduced to _them_, tell me about

yourself. Are they relatives of yours?”

 

“No, they are not related to me.”

 

“But you have relatives, have you not?”

 

“I have a mother.”

 

“I see, and you wish to make money for her. Is she solely dependent on

you?”

 

“No; she is married again. I have a step-father.”

 

“Whom you do not like?”

 

“What makes you think so?”

 

“I read it in your face.”

 

“No, I don’t like Mr. Tarbox. He is a mean, penurious farmer, a good

deal older than mother. She married him for a home, but she made a

mistake. She is merely a house-keeper without wages. She would be better

off by herself, with me to work for her.”

 

“Has she any money at all?”

 

“About two hundred dollars. Mr. Tarbox has tried to get possession of

it, but without success.”

 

“You look well dressed.”

 

“I bought and paid for the suit myself. I saved a railroad train from

destruction, and the passengers made up a collection of over a hundred

and fifty dollars for me. I bought this suit, and with the balance of

the money I am paying for my trip to California.”

 

By this time they had come in sight of the camp. Tom had already

returned, evidently without luck, and was only waiting for Grant to

appear to sacrifice poor old Dobbin on the altar of hunger.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV.

THE NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

 

 

When Grant appeared with the stranger, Tom and his father looked amazed.

Where could he have picked up an acquaintance in this wilderness was

their thought.

 

“Tom,” said Grant quickly, “you needn’t kill Dobbin.”

 

“Are you ready to take his place?” asked Tom. “Food we must have.”

 

“My friends,” interposed the stranger, “I come with your young companion

to invite you to breakfast at my cabin. Perhaps etiquette requires that

I should tell you who I am. Permit me to introduce myself as Giles

Crosmont, an Englishman by birth and a citizen of the world.”

 

“I’m Tom Cooper,” responded Tom briefly; “and there are my father and

mother. As for your invitation, we’ll accept it thankfully. Do you keep

a hotel hereabout?”

 

“Well, not exactly,” smiled Crosmont; “but I have a cabin a short

distance away, and am able to offer you some refreshment. Let me suggest

that you follow me at once. Grant and I will lead the way.”

 

“So you succeeded better than I, Grant?” remarked Tom.

 

“Yes; I found Mr. Crosmont’s cabin, and was wondering if it were

occupied, when he entered and made me welcome.”

 

“Have you lived here long, Mr. Crosmont?” asked Tom curiously.

 

“Four weeks only.”

 

“Alone?”

 

“Yes; I told Grant that it was a whim of mine to try the experiment of

living in utter solitude.”

 

“How do you like it, as far as you’ve got?”

 

Giles Crosmont laughed. He was amused by the frank curiosity of his

young acquaintance.

 

“I’ve got as far as I care to go in this particular direction. After

breakfast I may have a proposal to make to you.”

 

They reached the cabin, and Crosmont hospitably produced his stock of

provisions, to which his visitors did ample justice.

 

“Now for my proposal,” said Crosmont. “I should like to join your

party.”

 

“You are welcome, sir; but, as Grant has probably told you, we are all

out of provisions.”

 

“I will turn over to you the balance of mine, and I have more concealed

in the woods, at a little distance.”

 

“Good!” said Tom, in a tone of satisfaction. “We will buy them of you.”

 

“No, you won’t. I freely contribute them as my share of the common

expense. I can help you in another way also. I am a good shot, and I

hope to add a deer or an antelope to your stock at frequent intervals.”

 

“We shall be glad to have you join us,” said Mrs. Cooper hospitably.

“Our meeting with you is quite providential.”

 

Giles Crosmont took off his hat and bowed respectfully to Mrs. Cooper.

It was evident that he was a gentleman by birth and training.

 

“It was what I was waiting for,” he said; “an invitation from the lady.

I am afraid I must ask you to help convey the provisions to the camp.”

 

“Grant and I will undertake that,” said Tom, with alacrity.

 

“And I will help you,” added the blacksmith. “We are in luck to find

food on such an easy condition.”

 

In half an hour the providential supply was stowed in the wagon, and the

party, augmented to five, started on its way.

 

Generally Tom and Grant had walked together, but the stranger showed

such a preference for Grant’s society that Tom fell back and joined his

father, leaving his friend and their new acquaintance to journey

together.

 

“So you are going to California to dig for gold, Grant?” said Crosmont,

as he moderated his pace to adapt himself to Grant’s shorter steps.

 

“Yes, sir,” answered Grant enthusiastically. “I wish I were there now.”

 

“Suppose now that you should be fortunate, and secure, say, ten thousand dollars; you would be happy?”