Digging for Gold 35

Digging for Gold 35

This plan seemed wise, and Grant set out with about fifteen hundred

dollars’ worth of gold. He carried it in a valise, and, the better to

divert suspicion, wore an old and shabby working suit.

 

“I am not proud of my appearance,” he said, as he took a position in

front of the mirror in their chamber. “What do I look like?”

 

“A healthy young tramp,” answered Tom, laughing.

 

“I agree with you.”

 

“However, there is one comfort; no one will think you have anything of

value with you.”

 

“What will Mr. Crosmont think when I make my appearance in San

Francisco?”

 

“That you are down on your luck. However, you can explain to him.”

 

The next morning Grant set out on his way to Sacramento. Tom Cooper

accompanied him as far as the cabin of the old man to whom they owed

their present good fortune. It was a long walk, and the valise, with its

weight of gold-dust, was no light burden.

 

When they reached the cabin, they found Mr. Gilbert—for this was the old

man’s name—sitting on a chair in front of it. His face was naturally

grave, but it lighted up when his glance rested on the two new-comers.

 

“I am glad to see you,” he said; but, as his glance dwelt on Grant in

his shabby attire, “you don’t seem to have prospered,” he added.

 

Grant laughed.

 

“Appearances are deceitful, Mr. Gilbert,” he said. “I am in disguise.”

 

“I don’t understand you.”

 

“Do I look as if I were worth robbing?”

 

The old man smiled.

 

“You look,” he said, “as if you had just escaped from a poorhouse.”

 

“Then the disguise is effective.” said Tom. “The fact is my young

partner is going to San Francisco, and this valise, which he is taking

with him, contains fifteen hundred dollars in gold-dust.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.

ON TO THE GOLDEN GATE.

 

 

“Then you have really prospered?” said Mr. Gilbert.

 

“Yes, sir; we must have as much as seven hundred dollars more, but this

was as much as Grant could conveniently carry. We depend on his shabby

attire to save him from attracting the attention of robbers.”

 

“You will remain at the claim?” said Mr. Gilbert, addressing himself to

Tom.

 

“Yes, I shall continue to work it. Grant is summoned to San Francisco by

a friend whose acquaintance he made in crossing the plains.”

 

They stopped an hour to chat with the old man, and then, resuming their

march, reached Howe’s Gulch in time for supper.

 

They were immediately surrounded by old acquaintances.

 

“Where are you bound, Tom?” asked one.

 

“Grant is going to San Francisco. He has an offer of employment from a

rich man there.”

 

“Won’t you join us again?”

 

“No; I have a claim some way from here which will bear working a little

longer.”

 

“The boy doesn’t look as if you had struck luck.”

 

“He will be all right when he reaches San Francisco.”

 

“How about yourself?”

 

“Oh, well, I am not discouraged. There are better times in store.”

 

One of the crowd was Nahum Stockton, to whom Grant and Tom had given

their claims when they left Howe’s Gulch.

 

“Look here, Cooper,” he said. “You did me a good turn. I’ve done pretty

well with the claim you gave me, and I want to show my gratitude. If

fifty dollars will do you or the boy any good, I will let you have it.”

 

Tom Cooper wrung his hand cordially.

 

“You’re a good fellow, Stockton,” he said, “but we are not in want. I am

glad you have done fairly well, but we don’t stand in need of help at

present. If we ever do, we won’t forget your kind offer.”

 

“That’s right. You shall be heartily welcome to anything I have.”

 

The two partners went to the hotel and stayed overnight. They were

pleased to think that no one suspected them of having been fortunate.

There were some friends—Nahum Stockton, for instance—to whom they would

have been willing to communicate it, but they considered it advisable,

on the whole, to keep the matter a profound secret.

 

The next morning Grant took the stage for Sacramento, and arrived there

without any exciting adventure.

 

“Go and see father and mother, Grant,” said Tom. “Don’t tell them too

much, but let them know that I am making a living, and have no cause to

complain.”

 

Mr. Cooper had just finished shoeing a horse, when Grant walked up to

the shop.

 

“Why, Grant Colburn!” exclaimed the blacksmith, “it’s good to see you.

But—” and here he surveyed Grant’s attire—“you look kind of seedy, don’t

you?”

 

“Yes,” laughed Grant; “but there are no good tailors’ shops where I have

been working.”

 

“Have you come to Sacramento to work?”

 

“No. I am bound for San Francisco. Mr. Crosmont has sent for me.”

 

“How did you leave Tom?” asked Mrs. Cooper, who had entered the shop, as

she shook hands with Grant.

 

“Well and hearty, Mrs. Cooper.”

 

“Why didn’t he come with you?”

 

“Mr. Crosmont didn’t send for him.”

 

“How is he doing?”

 

“Well, he isn’t exactly a millionnaire yet,” answered Grant, with a

laugh.

 

“I’m afraid not, if we’re to judge by appearances,” and Mr. Cooper shook

his head, as he bestowed another glance on Grant’s outfit. “He’d much

better give up this notion of gold-digging and come back here in the

shop with me.”

 

“But at mining you may strike it rich any day, you know,” returned Grant

cheerfully. “Tom has really reason to feel encouraged, and may surprise

you by making his fortune yet.”

 

“Those aint the kind of surprises that grow on every bush,” and Mr.

Cooper once more sagely shook his head.

 

After accepting of the hospitality of the kindly blacksmith and his

wife, Grant proceeded on his journey.

 

He was lucky enough to secure the only remaining seat in the next coach

for San Francisco, and was soon started on the last stage of his

progress toward the Golden Gate. Of his fellow passengers two were

miners, two farmers, one a school-teacher, another a boy of about

Grant’s age, and the seventh a black-eyed gentleman, who listened

attentively to all that was said, but made very few remarks himself.

 

Grant was glad to find his place next to the youngest member of the

party, who gave his name as Robert Campbell, and stated that he had been

on a visit to a relative in Sacramento.

 

“I trust we don’t fall in with the road agents,” remarked one of the

miners, soon after they had got under way.

 

“Why, do you think there is any danger of it?” inquired the

school-teacher anxiously.

 

“Well, that’s one of the things we may expect on such a trip as we are

taking,” returned the miner, adding: “I’d much prefer they wouldn’t make

me hold up my hands this time, however.”