The Comstock Club

Noon came at length, then one o'clock, then two; the train gave a long whistle, slackened speed, and in a moment was brought to a standstill in front of a station.

With the first signal Carlin had sprang from his seat and walked rapidly toward the end of the car.

"What can the matter be with Carlin?" asked Harding. "He has been half wild all day and altogether different from his usual self."

"He will be home sometime to-night," replied Ashley. "He has been absent a long time, and I do not wonder at his unrest. I expect to have my attack next week when the southern hills of Pennsylvania lift up their crests, and the old familiar haunts begin to take form."

"Look! Look!" said Harding. "Carlin's unrest is taking a delicious form, truly."

Two ladies were standing on the platform. Carlin had leaped from the train while yet it was moving quite rapidly. He bent and kissed the first lady, but the second one he caught in his arms, held her in a long embrace and kissed her over and over again.

"He has struck a bonanza," said Ashley.

"And the formation is kindly," said Harding.

"The indications are splendid," said Ashley. "Mark the trend of the vein; it is exquisite."

"It does not seem to be rebellious or obstinate ore to manipulate either. Carlin's process seems to work like a fire assay," said Harding.

"Just by the surface showing the claim is worth a thousand dollars a share," said Ashley. "I wonder if Carlin has secured a patent yet?"

"And I wonder," said Harding, "if we are not a pair of blackguards to be talking this way. Let us go and meet them."

The friends arose and started for the platform, but were met half way by Carlin and the ladies. There were formal introductions to Mrs. and Miss Richards. Under the blushes of the young lady could be traced the lineaments of the "Susie Dick" that Carlin had shown to the Club in the photograph.

Crimson, but still smiling, the young lady said: "Gentlemen, did you see Mr. Carlin at the station, before a whole depot of giggling ninnies, too? Was ever anything half so ridiculous?" Then glancing up at Carlin with a forgiving look, but still in a delicious scolding tone, she added: "I really had hoped that the West had partly civilized him."

Harding and Ashley glanced at each other with a look which said plainly enough, "Carlin has proved up without any contest; even if the patent is not already issued, his title is secure."

The friends had the drawing room and a section outside. With a quick instinct Ashley seated the elder lady in the section, bade Harding entertain her, then swinging back the drawing room door, said: "Miss Richards, I know that you want to scold Carlin for the next hour, and he deserves it. Right in here is the best place on the car for the purpose. Please walk in." Saying which he stepped back and seated himself beside Harding.

The elder lady was a charming traveling companion. She wanted to know all about the West. She knew all about the region they were passing through, and the whole afternoon ride was a delight.

During the journey Harding and Ashley had been begging Carlin to accompany them to Massachusetts, and he had finally promised to give them a positive answer that day. After a while he emerged from the drawing room and said: "I am sorry, but I cannot go East with you. These ladies have been good enough to come out and meet me. We will all go on as far as Chicago and see you off, but we cannot very well extend the journey further. Indeed, Miss Susie intimates that I am too awkward a man to be safe east of Chicago."

The others saw how it was and did not further importune him. Next day they separated, Carlin's last words being, "If you ever come within five hundred miles of Peoria stop and stay a month."

The grand city was passed. The train swung around the end of Lake Michigan, leaving the magical city in its wake. Through the beautiful region of Southern Michigan it hurried on. Detroit was reached and passed; the arm of the Dominion was crossed, and finally, when in the early morning the train stopped, the boom of Niagara filled the air, and the enchantment of the picture which the river and the sunlight suspend there before mortals, was in full view. Next the valley of the Genesee was unfolded, and with each increasing mile more and more distinct grew the clamors of toiling millions, jubilant with life and measureless in energy. Swifter and more frequent was the rush of the chariots on which modern commerce is borne, and all the time to the eyes of the men of the desert the lovely homes which fill that region flitted by like the castles of dreamland.

Later in the day the panorama of the Mohawk Valley began to unroll and was drawn out in picture after picture of rare loveliness.

Ashley and Harding were enchanted. It was as though they had emerged into a new world.

"Think of it, Ashley," said Harding. "It is but eight days – at this very hour – since we were having that wrestle with death in the depths of the Bullion mine. Think of that and then look around upon these serene homes and the lavish loveliness of this scenery."

"I know now how Moses felt, when from the crest of Pisgah he looked down to where the Promised Land was outstretched before him," was the reply. "I feel as I fancy a soul must feel, when at last it realizes there is a second birth."

Said Harding: "I dread more and more to meet these people where we are going. How uncouth we will seem to them and to ourselves."

"Our errand will plead our excuses," said Ashley; "besides they will be too much absorbed with something else to pay much attention to us. Moreover they will know that our lives of late have been passed mostly under ground, and they will not expect us to reflect much light."

"What are your plans, Ashley, for the near future, after this business which we have in hand shall be over?" asked Harding.

"A home in old Pennsylvania is to be purchased," said Ashley, "and then a trial with my fellow men for a fortune and for such honors as may be fairly won. And you Harding, what have you marked out?"

Said Harding: "My father's estate is to be redeemed; after that, whatever a strong right arm backing an honest purpose, can win. But one thing we must not forget. We must be the semi-guardians of those children of Brewster, until they shall pass beyond our care."

"You are very right, my boy," said Ashley. "Brewster was altogether grand and his children must ever be our concernment."

In the early night the Hudson was crossed and the train plunged on through the hills beyond. At Walpole early next morning the train was boarded by three gentlemen who searched out Harding and Ashley and introduced themselves as old friends of Brewster and his family. They had come out to escort the body of Brewster to Taunton, now only a few miles off. The names of these men were respectively Hartwell, Hill and Burroughs.

Hartwell explained that the remains would be taken to an undertaker, and examined to see if it would be possible for the children and Mrs. Wolcott, the sister of Brewster, to look upon their father's and brother's face. He also said the funeral would be on the succeeding day. Then the particulars of the accident were asked.

A full and graphic account of the whole affair had been published in the Virginia City papers.

Copies of these were produced and handed over as giving a full idea of the calamity.

The statement made by the superintendent of the Bullion including the smaller certificate of deposit, also the other effects of Brewster, all but the money obtained from Miller, were transferred to Mr. Hartwell.

On reaching Taunton a great number of sympathizing friends were in waiting, for Brewster had lived there all his life until he went West three years before, and he was much esteemed. The manner of his death added to the general sympathy.

A hearse in waiting, at once took the body away. The young men were taken to his home by Mr. Hartwell. They begged to be permitted to go to a hotel, but the request would not be listened to.

On examination it was found that the work of the embalmer had been most thorough. The face of Brewster was quite natural and placid, as though in sleep.

Breakfast was in waiting for the young men, and when it was disposed of they were shown again to the parlors and introduced to a score of people who had gathered in to hear the story of Brewster's death from the lips of the men who had taken his body from the deep pit and brought it home for burial.

In the conversation which followed two or three hours were consumed.

When the callers had gone, Hartwell said:

"Gentlemen, I advise you to go to your rooms and try and get some rest. In two or three hours I shall want you to go and make a call with me, if the poor family of my friend can bear it."

Late that afternoon Hartwell knocked on the door of the sitting room, which, with sleeping apartments on either side, had been given Harding and Ashley, and when the door was opened, he said:

"Gentlemen, please come with me, the children of James Brewster desire to see you!"

The young men arose and followed their host. Brewster had always referred to his daughters as his "little girls;" the man who had the young men to go and meet them, spoke of them as "the children of James Brewster." Both Harding and Ashley, as they followed Hartwell, were mentally framing words of comfort to speak to school misses just entering their teens, who were in sorrow.

When then, they were ushered into the presence of two thoroughly accomplished young women, and when these ladies, with tears streaming down their faces, came forward, shook their hands, and, in broken words of warmest gratitude, thanked them for all they had done and were doing, and for all they had been to their father in life and in death, the men from the desert were lost in surprise and astonishment.

As Harding said later: "I felt as though I was in a drift on the 2,800-foot level, into which no air pipe had been carried."

This apparition was all the more startling to them, because during the two or three years that they had been at work on the Comstock, the very nature of their occupation forbade their mingling in the society of refined women to any but a most limited extent.

From the papers given the family by Hartwell that day, matters were fully understood by the sister of Brewster and the young ladies, so no explanations were asked. At first the conversation was little more than warm thanks on the part of the young ladies and modest and half incoherent replies.

The ladies were in the humble home of their father's widowed sister, Mrs. Wolcott. That they were all poor was apparent from all the surroundings. This fact at length forced its way through the bewildered brain of Harding and furnished him a happy expedient to say something without advertising himself the idiot that he, in that hour, would have been willing to make an affidavit that he was. Said he: