Ben's Nugget; Or, A Boy's Search For Fortune

"There's Uncle Job and Aunt Hannah and Cousin Jennie."

"That's just what I thought," said Jake.

"I don't understand you," said Ben, puzzled. "What did you think?"

"I thought there was a Cousin Jennie."

Our hero laughed, and, it may be, blushed a little. "What made you think that?"

"There generally is, I notice," said Mr. Bradley, eagerly. "Is Cousin Jennie pretty?"

"To be sure she is."

"I thought that too, Ben."

"What are you driving at, Jake?"

"I was sure there was some one besides the old folks that you was anxious about."

"Well, you happen to be right," said Ben, laughing. "But I must tell you that Jennie is only fourteen, and I am only sixteen."

"You'll both of you be older some day, Ben. But there's a matter that we must settle before we go."

"What's that?"

"About the gold we have found since we've been here. We must have some arrangement about dividin' it."

"We sha'n't quarrel about that, Jake."

"No, there's no danger of that. That'll be easy enough. We'll divide it into two piles, one for you, and the other for me."

"Jake, I have no right to half of it. You ought to have two-thirds."

"I'd like to argy that matter, Ben. Why should I have two-thirds?"

"Because you earned it. You understood mining better than I."

"We're equal partners, Ben. I stick to that, and I mean to have my way. I've been making a little calculation, and I reckon there's nigh on to a thousand dollars for the two of us."

"As much as that, Jake?" said Ben, eagerly.

"I reckon there is, though I can't justly tell."

"It doesn't seem possible I can be worth five hundred dollars," said Ben, thoughtfully. "We've only been here four weeks. That makes a hundred and twenty-five dollars a week."

"So it does. That's pretty high pay for a boy."

"Before I left home," said Ben, "there was an old farmer, Deacon Pitkins, who wanted to hire me for a year. What do you think he offered me?"

"How much?"

"Twenty dollars a year and board," answered Ben.

"I reckon you did better to come to Californy."

"It looks so now. How the old deacon would stare if he knew how I had been prospering at the mines! I wish there was any way of sending part of this money home. I would like to make a present to Uncle Job."

"When you get to 'Frisco you won't have any trouble about sendin' it."

"Uncle Job thought it was very risky for a boy like me to leave home and seek my fortune in California. I would like to prove to him that I didn't make a mistake."

"It's likely you haven't, Ben," said Bradley cautiously, "but you ain't out of the woods yet. I hope things will go on as well as they have, and you'll be able to carry a pile home. But we've got to start in good season to-morrow, and we may as well turn in and go to sleep."

CHAPTER XIII.

KI SING'S RIDE

The next morning after breakfast the party got off. Fortunately, there were no trunks or heavy luggage to carry. California pioneers had no occasion for Saratoga trunks, and the amount of clothing they carried in addition to what they had on was very small.

"Ki Sing," said Bradley, jocosely, "I am afraid we can't carry your trunk with us."

"'Tlunk'!" repeated the Chinaman, looking puzzled.

"Yes, trunk, or 'tlunk,' as you call it. Haven't you a trunk to carry your clothes?"

"Got clothes on," said Ki Sing, pointing to his blouse and wide pants.

"I see," said Bradley, laughing. "We're all about in the same fix. The clothes of the whole party wouldn't half fill a trunk."

The two horses were brought out and saddled.

Bradley assisted Richard Dewey to mount one, and motioned to Ben to mount the other. "Get on, Ben," he said. "It's time the procession was moving."

Ben shook his head. "No, Jake," he said. "You are older than I am. It is proper that you should ride."

"If I'm older than you," said Bradley, "I am stronger than you, and am better able to walk."

"I am strong enough, Jake. I sha'n't get tired."

"One of us ought to ride. There's no use in havin' a horse if you ain't going to use him."

"Suppose," suggested Ben, laughing, "we let Ki Sing ride?"

Bradley saw that a joke was intended, and he turned gravely to the Chinaman. "Ki Sing," he said, "come here and mount this mustang. We are goin' to let you ride."

An expression of alarm overspread the Chinaman's broad face. He had never been on a horse's back in his life, but he knew something of the Californian mustangs. More than once he had seen them buck and throw the ill-fated riders over their heads, and, not being of a daring or venturesome nature, he preferred to walk rather than trust himself to mount the back of so treacherous an animal.

"Ki Sing no wantee lide," he said, starting back in alarm.