Digging for Gold

“Oh, I don’t say anything about that, but he’s got a wife that is twice as smart as he is.”

“Mrs. Crambo knows how to cook. That is what chiefly interests us.”

Albert Benton had an inquiring mind, and was gifted with a large measure of curiosity. He looked about the room, and his glance fell on the chest.

“What do you keep in that?” he inquired.

“Clothing,” answered Grant briefly.

“What made you get a chest? A trunk would do better.”

“We found it here, and bought it of Mr. Crambo. As neither of us had a trunk, we find it convenient.”

“When do you go to work?”

“We have breakfast at seven o’clock, and generally get to work about eight.”

“What sent you here? This isn’t a mining region.”

“I suppose we drifted here, as you did.”

“Well, we’ll see what’ll come out of it.”

At ten o’clock Tom Cooper suggested to their guest, who showed no disposition to retire, that Grant and himself were in the habit of going to bed early, as their work during the day fatigued them.

“All right! I’ll see you both to-morrow,” returned Benton, as he bade them good-night.

When he had left the room Grant said: “I’m sorry to see Benton here. I am afraid he will give us trouble.”

“In what way? By giving us too much of his company?”

“Partly that, but if he had any suspicion as to the contents of the chest he wouldn’t rest till he had opened it.”

“He wouldn’t find it a very healthy proceeding,” remarked Tom Cooper grimly.

CHAPTER XXIX

BENTON HAS A PLAN

Some days passed. The new-comer did not appear to find anything to do. He had sauntered out to the claim worked by Grant and Tom, and looked on, but had made no discoveries. He did not know whether to think they were prospering or not. He determined to obtain some information, if possible, from his landlord.

One morning, after the two friends had gone to work, he lingered at the table, asking for an extra cup of coffee as a pretext for remaining longer.

“Do you think my friend Grant and his chum are doing well?” he remarked carelessly.

“They can’t be making much,” answered Paul. “I think they are fools to waste their time here.”

“They must be making something,” said Mrs. Crambo. “They pay their board bills regularly.”

“Do they pay in gold-dust?”

“No; in coin.”

“Humph! what do they do with the gold-dust they get from the mine?”

“I don’t know. I never inquired.”

This was meant as a hint that Benton was unnecessarily curious, but he never took such hints.

“Is there any place in the village where they can dispose of it?”

“No,” answered Paul; “not that I know of. They would have to send it by express to Sacramento or San Francisco.”

“Where did you know Mr. Colburn?” asked Mrs. Crambo.

“We were employed together in Sacramento.”

“He seems to be a fine boy – or young man, perhaps I ought to call him. So steady, so regular in his habits.”

Benton shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, he’s well enough,” he answered, “but he’s mighty close with his money.”

“I approve of young men being economical,” said Mrs. Crambo.

“But not tight. Why, I once asked Grant to lend me five dollars and, would you believe it, he wouldn’t do it.”

“Did he receive more pay than you?”

“I should say not. I received a good deal higher pay than he, as I ought to, being older and more experienced.”

“Then,” said Mrs. Crambo shrewdly, “I can’t understand why you should need to borrow money from him.”

“A man is sometimes hard up, no matter how large his income may be.”

“It ought not to be so,” said Mrs. Crambo dryly. “Our income isn’t large, but I never ask any one to lend me money.”

“Oh, well, I suppose you are a good manager.”

“Yes, I flatter myself that I am a fair manager. I think it my duty to be.”

“What a tiresome woman!” thought Benton. “I hate people who are always talking about duty.”

This was not surprising, for Benton concerned himself very little about duty in his own case.

When he left the table, he said to himself, “It seems pretty certain that Grant and Cooper haven’t parted with any of their gold-dust. The question is, where do they keep it?”

That day Benton strayed into a restaurant and boarding-house in the village, kept by a man named Hardy, and learned incidentally that he wanted to sell out.