Digging for Gold 28

Digging for Gold 28

“Yours and mine?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How much?”

 

“A dollar and seventy-five cents! I think, Grant, we had better inquire

the location of the nearest poor house. We may want to ask admission.”

 

“There’s an old saying, Tom: ‘The darkest hour is just before the day.’”

 

“How does that apply here?”

 

“I will tell you. I have secured a claim from which ten thousand dollars

was obtained within six months.”

 

“And then it petered out?”

 

“No; the owner stopped working it because he had money enough, and was

satisfied.”

 

“Hasn’t it been worked since?”

 

“No.”

 

“How much did you agree to pay for it?” asked Tom, in excitement.

 

“Nothing. It was given me for a service I rendered the owner.”

 

“This seems like a fairy tale, Grant. What does it mean?”

 

“I will tell you;” and Grant related his afternoon’s adventure.

 

“Hurrah! we’re in luck!” exclaimed Tom, rising to his feet and swinging

his hat in excitement. “If what you say is true, we’re made men.”

 

“I am glad you look upon me as a man,” said Grant, smiling.

 

“I’m only anticipating a little. I hope,” he added anxiously, “the old

man won’t reconsider the matter.”

 

“Not much chance of it. I haven’t known him long, but I am quite sure

that he isn’t that kind of a man.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXVI.

NAHUM STOCKTON.

 

 

“What shall we do with our old claims?” Before Grant could answer that

question a step was heard, and looking up, the two friends saw

approaching a tall, gaunt man of thirty-five—a typical Yankee—whose

shabby attire indicated that he was “down on his luck.”

 

“Good-evenin’, friends,” he said.

 

“Good-evening,” responded Tom cordially. “Sit down with us, won’t you?

I’ve got an extra pipe, if you would like a smoke.”

 

“Thank you; I’m just pinin’ for a smoke. Is this your tenement?”

 

“Well, we found it vacant, and squatted here. The owner hasn’t called on

us for any rent yet.”

 

“You’re in luck.”

 

“Have you just arrived?”

 

“Yes, I have. I’m a rollin’ stone, and I haven’t gathered any moss.”

 

“There’s a good many in that fix.”

 

“Do you see that coin?” and the stranger took from his pocket a silver

quarter and flipped it up in the air.

 

“Yes. Is there anything strange about it?”

 

“Well, there’s this—it’s the last and only piece of property now

belonging to Nahum Stockton. If you are acquainted with the

tax-collector, don’t mention it, for I wouldn’t like to be assessed on

it.”

 

“I will respect your wishes, Mr. Stockton,” said Tom, laughing. “May I

ask what are your plans?”

 

“If I can buy a claim for a quarter, I will settle down here and dig for

gold.”

 

Tom looked at Grant, and Grant nodded, for he read his friend’s thought.

 

“Having so much money,” said Tom soberly, “you’d better buy a couple of

claims.”

 

“That’s a good joke,” returned Stockton, with a grim smile.

 

“No joke at all! My friend and I own a couple of claims, and we leave

Howe’s Gulch to-morrow. We will make them over to you without money and

without price. As to a cradle, you can buy one on instalments.”

 

“Do you mean it?” asked Stockton eagerly.

 

“Yes; but I don’t want to deceive you in the matter. They haven’t been

paying very well lately, and Grant and I are going elsewhere to

prospect.”

 

“If they are paying anything, I’ll accept them with pleasure.”

 

“They are paying something, and of course there’s a possibility of

striking it rich in either one of them.”

 

“Gentlemen,” said Stockton earnestly, “you don’t know what you’ve done

for me. I was at the end of my resources, and felt kind o’ reckless.

You’ve made a new man of me.”

 

“We are glad to do you a service. Grant, can’t you get us some supper?

After eating, we’ll go and show Mr. Stockton the claims, for we shall

want to make an early start to-morrow morning. Mr. Stockton, our supper

will be a plain one, but we shall be glad to have you join us in eating

it.”

 

“You can’t be gladder than I am,” said Nahum quaintly. “I haven’t had

anything to eat since mornin’, and then it was only a slice of bread and

a glass of milk and water with the milk left out.”

 

Grant was in the cabin, making ready the evening meal. There was bread

and butter, some cold meat, and cup of tea for each. Mr. Stockton ate as

if he enjoyed every mouthful.

 

“You don’t ask me how I lost my money,” he said.

 

“You lost it, then; you didn’t spend it?”

 

“No; if I had got the worth of it I wouldn’t have cared so much, but to

be cheated out of it by a mean scoundrel was a little too much.”

 

“Were you cheated out of it?”

 

“Yes. I’ll tell you how. Coming from ’Frisco I struck Frost’s Bar with a

hundred dollars in my pocket. A hundred dollars! Sometimes I wonder if

there is so much money in the world, now that I am dead broke! Well, I

had been meaning to buy a claim, and was walkin’ ’round when I met a

sleek appearin’ man, who looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

He asked me what my plans were, and I told him I wanted to buy a claim.

‘You’re the very man I’m lookin’ after,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a rich claim

here, but my health has given way, and I haven’t strength to work it.

I’m willin’ to sell for half price.’

 

“Well, I looked at the claim, and I liked the appearance of it. The

artful rascal found out how much money I had, and asked me a hundred

dollars for the claim. ‘But,’ said I, ‘that won’t leave me anything to

work it with.’ ‘I like you, Mr. Stockton,’ he said, as he grabbed my

hand, and the tears came into his eyes. ‘I feel like bein’ a true friend

to you. I’ll let you have it for ninety dollars, and that ain’t half

what it’s worth.’

 

“Well, to make a long story short, I paid over the ninety dollars, and

he wrote out a paper making over the claim to me. Then he shook hands

with me and went away. I haven’t seen him since.”

 

“Wasn’t the claim a good one?” asked Grant.

 

“Yes, the best at the Bar.”

 

“Then I don’t see what you have to complain of.”

 

“I’ll tell you. The next mornin’ I went ‘round to take possession of my

claim, when I saw a stout, good-looking man workin’ it. ‘Hold on, my

friend,’ I said, ‘what are you doin’ with my claim?’

 

“‘Your claim!’ repeated Charles Ambrose, for that was his name. ‘What

are you talkin’ about?’

 

“‘I reckon I speak plain enough,’ said I, provoked. ‘I bought that claim

last night, and I mean to hold it.’

 

“‘Oh, you bought it?’ said Ambrose. ‘Of whom did you buy it?’

 

“On that I produced the paper.

 

“‘Here’s the document,’ I said. ‘It is signed by Dionysius

Silverthorn.’”

 

“What!” ejaculated Tom and Grant jointly.

 

“Do you know the man?” asked Stockton.

 

“I think we do,” answered Tom Cooper. “He’s a tall, thin fellow, with a

lamb-like __EXPRESSION__, but he’s an experienced swindler.”

 

“You’ve about hit it. Did he swindle you?”

 

“No, but he tried to. Well, how did you come out?”

 

“At the little end of the horn. Silverthorn was off with my money, and I

had nothing to show for it. I’d just like to get hold of him. He

wouldn’t look quite so much like an innocent lamb when I got through

with him.”

 

“I left him at Sacramento,” said Grant.

 

“I’ll hunt him up when I get a little money,” went on Stockton. “I’ve

met scoundrels before, but he’ll take the cake.”