Digging for Gold

“And I too, Tom.”

“And now I feel weak and exhausted. It has been an effort to drag myself along to-day. The fact is, machinery can’t be kept in working trim without fuel.”

“I realize that, too, Tom.”

“I presume father and mother have felt the same way, but I haven’t dared to ask them. They say ‘misery loves company,’ but when the companions in misery are your own father and mother, it doesn’t apply. Though I have to suffer myself, I wish they were spared the same privations that have undermined my strength.”

It will be seen that Tom was better educated than the majority of young men born and brought up in the country. He had attended an academy in a neighboring town for a year, and had for a season taught the district school at Crestville. Grant found him pleasant and instructive company.

That night, when they went to bed, they were utterly without food. What were to be their experiences on the morrow they could not foresee, but there was plenty of room for grave apprehension.

“Grant, if we can get no food, I have decided what we must do,” said Tom, as they lay down to rest at a short distance from each other.

“What is it, Tom? Have you thought of anything?”

“Yes; I suppose you know that horseflesh, though not to be compared with beef, is still palatable?”

“Yes.”

“It is our last resource. Poor old Dobbin must die!” and the young man sighed.

At that moment the old horse whinnied.

“It seems as if he knew what we were talking about,” said Tom.

“That will last us some time,” remarked Grant, with renewed hope.

“Yes; I suppose the poor old fellow won’t be very tender, but it is the only way he can serve us now. We can cook up quite a supply while the meat is fresh, and take it with us. It will give us a new lease of life, and something may happen before that supply is exhausted.”

Tom consulted his father and mother, who, though at first startled, decided that it was the only thing to be done.

And so poor Dobbin’s fate seemed to be sealed!

CHAPTER XIII

THE SOLITARY CABIN

When they rose the next morning, all looked serious. Each felt that the crisis had come. All eyes were turned upon poor old Dobbin, who, unconscious of his danger, was browsing near the camp.

“Grant,” said Tom suddenly, “let us give Dobbin a small lease of life.”

“Will it do any good, Tom?”

“I don’t know; but this is what I propose: let us each take a rifle and go in different directions. We may find a deer or antelope to serve as a substitute for Dobbin, or something else may turn up.”

“Very well, Tom.”

So the two started out.

Chance directed Grant’s steps into a sheltered valley. Coarse grass covered the ground, which seemed luxurious when compared with the white alkali plains over which they had been travelling.

Grant kept on his way, taking pains not to lose his bearings, for he did not care to stray from the party, and it was quite possible to get lost. There was no evidence of human habitation. So far as appearances went, this oasis might have come fresh from the creative hand, and never fallen under the eye of man. But appearances are deceptive.

Turning a sharp corner, Grant was amazed to find before him a veritable log cabin. It was small, only about twelve feet square, and had evidently at some time been inhabited.

Curious to learn more of this solitary dwelling, Grant entered through the open door. Again he was surprised to find it comfortably furnished. On the rough floor was a Turkish rug. In one corner stood a bedstead, covered with bedding. There were two chairs and a settee. In fact, it was better furnished than Robinson Crusoe’s dwelling in his solitary island.

Grant entered and sat down on a chair.

“What does it all mean, I wonder?” he asked himself. “Does anybody live here, or when did the last tenant give up possession? Was it because he could not pay his rent?” and he laughed at the idea.

As Grant leaned back in his chair and asked himself these questions, his quick ear caught the sound of some one approaching. He looked up, and directly the doorway was darkened by the entrance of a tall man, who in turn gazed at Grant in surprise.

“Ah!” he said, after a brief pause, “I was not expecting a visitor this morning. How long have you been here?”

“Not five minutes. Do you live here?”

“For the present. You, I take it, are crossing the plains?”

“Yes.”

“Not alone, surely?”

“No; my party are perhaps a mile away.”

“Then you are on an exploring expedition?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Grant gravely; “on a very serious exploring expedition.”

“How is that?”

“We are all out of food. There isn’t a crumb left, and starvation stares us in the face.”

“Ha! Did you expect to find food anywhere about here? Was this your object?”

“I don’t know. It was a desperate step to take. I have a rifle with me. I thought it possible I might come across a deer that would tide us over for a few days.”

“How large is your party?”

“There are only four of us.”

“All males?”

“Except one. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, and their son Tom, a young man, and myself constitute the party.”

“Whence did you come?”

“From Iowa.”