Digging for Gold

“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.”

“Or anything else he can lay hands on,” said Grant, with a laugh.

They walked over to the mining-camp, put Stockton into possession of the claims, and introduced him to a miner, who agreed to sell him a cradle on instalments.

“Now, Grant,” said Tom, “we’ll go to bed, for we may have a long walk before us to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XXVII

PAUL CRAMBO

Full of hope, Grant and Tom arrived at the cabin of the old man who had promised them his claim.

“How are you feeling this morning?” inquired Grant, when they were admitted.

“Rather stiff, but better than yesterday. Is this your friend?”

“Yes. His name is Tom Cooper.”

The old man scrutinized him closely.

“It’s a good face,” he said. “You can trust him.”

“I do.”

Tom looked well pleased.

“You have come to ask me to keep my promise.”

“Yes. Your offer was a very kind one. On the strength of it we have given our claims at Howe’s Gulch to a stranger, who came to our cabin last night penniless.”

“Then I shall be helping him, too. Are you ready to go to work at once?”

“Yes; that’s our hope.”

“The place where I made my pile is fifteen miles away. Are you good for a long walk?”