Digging for Gold 27

Digging for Gold 27

About the middle of the next afternoon Grant was attacked by a violent

headache.

 

“I shall have to close up work for the day, Tom,” he said.

 

“Go to the cabin and lie down,” suggested Tom.

 

“I would rather go on a walk. The fresh air may do me good.”

 

Grant dipped his handkerchief in the stream, bathed his forehead, and

then set out on a stroll to the south of the claims. Finding relief, he

pushed on till he had probably walked a couple of miles.

 

It was a lonely stretch of country, and, with the exception of a boy, he

met no one. His surprise was the greater, therefore, when at one point

he heard a groan, evidently proceeding from some one in pain. He looked

about him, and finally discovered an old man lying under a tree, doubled

up with pain. It was hard to tell his age, for his appearance was

neglected, and he had the air of one who lived apart from his fellow

men.

 

“What is the matter?” asked Grant, in a tone of sympathy. “Can I help

you?”

 

“I am suffering from an attack of rheumatism,” answered the old man. “It

came upon me suddenly, and has disabled me, as you see.”

 

“What can I do for you?”

 

“If you can help me to my cabin it will be a great service.”

 

“Where is your cabin?”

 

“In the edge of yonder woods.”

 

He pointed feebly, and Grant, following the direction, espied a small

hut, brown and discolored with age, standing under the shadow of a rock

about a quarter of a mile away.

 

He helped the old man to his feet, and half supported him as he walked

toward the cabin.

 

“Are you often seized in this way?” he asked.

 

“Not often so suddenly and violently, though I have been in the grip of

my enemy for years.”

 

[Illustration: GRANT AND THE SICK MINER.]

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXV.

ANOTHER LONELY CABIN.

 

 

They reached the cabin at last, and then a question which Grant was

about to ask was answered. The old man lived alone.

 

The furniture was of the simplest: a bed, a couple of chairs, a table,

and a few dishes.

 

“Is there no one to take care of you?” asked Grant.

 

“No, I need no one,” was the quick reply. “I have remedies that will

soon quiet the pain.”

 

“I should think you would feel lonely.”

 

“I prefer solitude to the society of mean, selfish, and designing men,”

answered the old man bitterly.

 

“All men are not mean or selfish.”

 

“No doubt you are right, but those whom I trusted most have proved so.”

 

“How long have you lived here?”

 

“Six years.”

 

“Are you—poor? If so, perhaps I can help you.”

 

“No, no; poverty is the smallest of my troubles. Look there!” and the

old man drew from his pocket a handful of gold pieces. “I have enough to

see me through the few years I have yet to live.”

 

“But you have no occupation—no way to fill up your time?”

 

“I have a few books and my own thoughts. I will tell you what little is

to be told. I came here six years ago, and for a time devoted myself to

gold-digging. I was fortunate, and secured all I needed for my modest

wants. Then I stopped, for I had no object in accumulating more. But you

tell me about yourself. You are young to be in California.”

 

“Yes, I came to seek my fortune. I was a poor boy, and my mother is

unhappily situated. I came to see if I could not improve her lot and my

own.”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I am digging for gold.”

 

“Where?”

 

“At Howe’s Gulch.”

 

“Have you succeeded?”

 

“So poorly that I am thinking of giving it up and going elsewhere. In

Sacramento I worked in a restaurant, and made a good deal more money

than I have made at the mines. I am twenty dollars poorer than when I

came here.”

 

“Are you alone?”

 

“No, I have a friend with me—a young man whose acquaintance I made in

crossing the plains.”

 

“Is he a true friend—a loyal friend?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then there are such in the world. Those I have met have been of a

different kind. Has he been any more fortunate than yourself?”

 

“Not since I arrived. He did something before I came, but I must have

brought him bad luck, for he has been running behind ever since. We have

not been making expenses for the last month.”

 

“I never thought much of Howe’s Gulch, though some have been fortunate

there.”

 

“Then it was not there that you found your gold?”

 

“No.”

 

Grant wanted to ask the old man where it was that his claim was located,

but hesitated, not knowing how the question would be received.

 

“I can direct you to a rich spot,” said the old man, after a pause. “I

had intended to let the secret die with me, but you have done me a

service——”

 

“A very slight one,” said Grant modestly.

 

“Not slight, for without your help I should have been unable to get

home.”

 

“I was glad to serve you, and do not need compensation. You may wish to

work the claim yourself.”

 

“No; my days of labor are over. I am sixty-five, and might easily be

taken for ten years older. I shall be glad to contribute to your

happiness and success, and that of your friend.”

 

“Perhaps some one may have discovered and worked the claim.”

 

“No; it is an out-of-the-way place, and has not attracted attention.”

 

“How, then, did you discover it?”

 

“By accident. As to the richness, let this convince you: in less than

six months I took out ten thousand dollars, and having no need of more,

stopped working, and carefully removed all traces likely to betray the

mine’s entrance to a casual observer.”

 

“It will be a great favor to Tom and myself. We ought to give you a

share of the proceeds.”

 

The old man shook his head.

 

“I shall not live long enough to spend the money I have,” he answered.

“You are welcome to all it will yield you. Come here with your friend

to-morrow morning, and I will give you the directions that will enable

you to find the claim.”

 

“Can I do anything more for you before I go?”

 

“Yes; you may go to the stream behind the cabin and bring me some fresh

water.”

 

Grant did as requested, and, elated by his unexpected good luck, started

on his return to Howe’s Gulch.

 

When Grant reached the cabin jointly occupied by himself and Tom Cooper,

he found Tom sitting outside, smoking his pipe.

 

He looked very thoughtful.

 

“Have you got rid of your headache, Grant?” he asked.

 

“Yes; I feel as lively as a cricket.”

 

“Then your walk has done you good?”

 

“A great deal of good,” answered Grant; but Tom did not detect the

significance hidden in the reply. “How long have you been at home?”

 

“An hour.”

 

“Then you knocked off work earlier than usual.”

 

“Yes,” answered Tom soberly. “To tell the truth, Grant, I’m discouraged. How much do you think our day’s work amounts to?”