Digging for Gold

“You have no father. Look upon me as a father or guardian, whichever you please. This will be my address.”

He took a card from his pocket, and wrote upon it, under his name, “Care of C.D. Vossler, Jeweler, Market St., San Francisco.”

“Mr. Vossler is an old friend of mine,” he said, “and he will take care of any letters that come directed in this way. I don’t know where I shall put up, so that it will be best always to address me, when you write, in his care.”

“Thank you, sir. I will remember.”

“Yes; don’t lose the card.”

Mr. Crosmont left the restaurant, and Grant did not again see him before his departure. He felt cheered to think he had found such a friend. Two thousand miles from home, it was worth a good deal to think that, if he were sick or got into trouble he had a friend who would stand by him, and to whom he could apply for help or advice.

The next day, in an hour which was given him during the time when business was slack, Grant went round to see Mr. Cooper.

He found the blacksmith busy in his shop. He had bought the little cabin opposite, and his family had already moved in.

“It didn’t take me long to get established, Grant,” he said with a well-satisfied smile.

“No, sir. I was quite taken by surprise to hear it.”

“I did a good thing in coming to California. I am convinced of that. Why, Grant, how much do you think I took in for work yesterday?”

“Ten dollars,” suggested Grant.

“Better than that – seventeen! Why, at this rate, I shall be able to buy back my old place in a year out of my savings.”

“I am glad to hear of your good luck, Mr. Cooper.”

“You have got employment, too, Grant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How much are you paid?”

“My board and three dollars a day.”

“Why, that’s fine, and you only sixteen years old, too. I shall be well pleased if Tom does as well at the mines.”

“If he does well, I expect to join him in a month or two.”

“I don’t know as it’s wise. Perhaps you had better stay where you are.”

“I might not make as much money, but I should not be satisfied to come to California and not go to the mines.”

“That’s just exactly what I am going to do. Me and mother are better off in Sacramento. However, you are young, and that makes a difference.”

“I must leave you now, Mr. Cooper, and get back to business.”

“Are you a good deal confined?”

“Yes, that’s the worst of it. I have to be at the restaurant in the evening till ten o’clock, but I can get off for an hour every afternoon.”

“Well, come out and see us often. I would invite you to come and take supper some night, but I suppose you couldn’t accept.”

“No, Mr. Cooper, thanking you just the same.”

“You haven’t been homesick yet, Grant, have you?”

“No; except the first day, when I didn’t know how I was coming out.”

“And you wouldn’t like to be back on Mr. Tarbox’s farm again?”

“Not much; but I should like to see mother again, if only for a few minutes.”

“If you do well, and carry home a good sum of money, you can make things comfortable for her, you know.”

“That’s what I am thinking of all the time.”

Grant took leave of the blacksmith and went back to work. He was glad to think he had some one to call upon who reminded him of home. He worked long hours, though the labor could not be considered hard. There was one other waiter beside himself, a young man of twenty-five, named Albert Benton. He was thin and dark-complexioned, and Grant, without being able to explain why, conceived a dislike to him. He saw that Benton was inclined to shirk work, though he received higher pay than his young associate. He was paid five dollars per day and had a room outside. Mr. Smithson, the proprietor of the restaurant, had desired him to sleep in a small room over the restaurant, but he had declined to do so. Upon this the same request was made of Grant, and he complied, glad to save the price of lodging elsewhere. When the restaurant closed at ten o’clock, frequently Grant would go out for a short walk, as it was a relief to breathe the fresh outside air after being confined in the close atmosphere of the eating-house during the day and evening. Generally he and Benton went out together, but his companion soon left him, finding a simple walk entirely too slow and unexciting for his taste.

CHAPTER XIX

GRANT FALLS UNDER SUSPICION

It struck Grant as strange that his fellow waiter, though he received five dollars a day, never seemed to have any money on hand. More than once he had borrowed a couple of dollars of Grant, which, however, he always repaid.

“What can he do with his money?” thought Grant. “He gets very little chance to spend it, for he is confined in the restaurant from twelve to fourteen hours a day.”

The mystery was solved when, one night, he saw Benton entering a notorious gambling saloon not far from the restaurant.

“So that is where he disposes of his money,” reflected Grant. “I wish I could venture to give him a hint. But probably he would pay it no attention, as I am a boy considerably younger than he.”

He did, however, find occasion for speaking soon afterward.

“Have you ever been to the mines, Mr. Benton?” he asked.

“No.”

“Don’t you ever expect to go?”

“I would go in a minute if I had money enough.”

“I should think you might save money enough in a month or two. You get good pay.”

“It’s tiresome saving from one’s daily pay. I want to make a strike. Some day I shall. I might win five hundred dollars in the next week. When I do I’ll bid the old man good-by, and set out for the mines.”

“I believe in saving. A friend of mine, now in San Francisco, warned me to keep clear of the gambling-houses, and I would be sure to get on.”

Albert Benton regarded Grant suspiciously.