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"I believe your interest falls due to-day, Mr. Nelson," said the squire, when he found himself alone with his debtor.
"Yes," answered the farmer, slowly. It was not very likely to slip his mind.
"I suppose you have the money ready," continued the squire, who supposed no such thing.
"I have a part of it ready," said Mark Nelson, with an effort.
"A part," repeated his creditor, with a frown.
"Yes; I can give you thirty-six dollars to-day."
"Onlythirty-six dollars! The amount due is sixty-six."
"I know it, Squire Hudson; but this has been a bad year for the farmers, as you probably know. Owing to the drought, my crops fell off at least one quarter."
"I can't help that," said the squire, coldly.
"If you will be a little patient," said Mr. Nelson, uneasily.
"Neighbor Nelson," said his creditor, interrupting him, "I wish to ask you one question. When I lent you money on mortgage was there a stipulation that if there was a drought I was to wait for my just interest?"
"No, Squire Hudson."
"To be sure not; I would not of course lend you money on any such terms. It was understood that my interest was to be paid semi-annually,—was it not so?"
"Yes, but—"
"Wait a moment. You must certainly agree that I am entitled to prompt payment. A bargain is a bargain."
"I don't dispute it, Squire Hudson, and I have tried to be ready for you; but in spite of all my efforts I am thirty dollars short."
"Do you expect me to be content with this explanation?"
"I think you are rather hard on me, squire.It isn't as if I had the money and objected to pay. I am a poor man, but no one ever lost a dollar by me; and I don't mean that any one shall, while I have my life and strength."
"That's all very well, but it won't make up the thirty dollars in which you are delinquent."
"What would you have me do? I cannotmakemoney."
"I wouldn't give much for an investment when the interest is delayed. It is no longer worth its face. If any of my railroad bonds defer their usual interest they at once drop in value."
"I know very little of railroad bonds, never having any money to invest in them; but I think my farm will be full security for all the money I owe you."
"Suppose I should foreclose—you would consider it an unkind thing and a great hardship, wouldn't you?"
"It would take away my means of supporting my family. I don't think you would go to extremes, for the sake of thirty dollars."
"It isn't the amount of money, neighbor Nelson, thatis to be considered. It is the principle that is involved."
This is a very common pretext with men who have made up their minds to do a mean thing. Generally speaking it is false, and the money is the first consideration.
"Will you give me two months to pay the balance of interest?" asked Mark Nelson.
"What better prospect have you of being able to pay me then?"
"As soon as Tom has any money to send, he will remit to me. I think it probable that I shall hear from him in the course of two months."
"If that is your reliance," said the squire, shrugging his shoulders, "I am afraid you are leaning upon a broken reed. I know boys pretty well, and I fancy Tom will find a use for all the money he earns."
"You don't know him, Squire Hudson. He is a very conscientious boy, and understands very well the sacrifice I made in raising money to send him to California. He is not very likely to forget that."
"It seems to me that the sacrifice was mine," said the squire, with a half sneer. "If I remember rightly, I advanced the money which he took away with him."
Mark Nelson flushed, and he answered warmly, "You did advance the money, Squire Hudson, but I gave you security for it."
"And the very first interest that has come due you are not prepared to meet. You can't blame me for feeling a little doubt as to the wisdom of my advance."
"Are you very much in need of the thirty dollars?" asked Mr. Nelson, nettled at the squire's tone.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Is it subjecting you to any great inconvenience to wait a couple of months for it? That is what I mean."
"My circumstances are not such," returned the squire, haughtily, "as to make me feel even the loss of thirty dollars."
"I wish I could say the same, but I cannot. Since, then, it will occasion you no inconvenience,I ask you as a favor that you will let the balance rest for two months."
Squire Hudson saw that he was cornered; but none the less was he disposed to yield the point. He even felt provoked with the farmer for having forced from him an acknowledgment that he did not need the money he so persistently demanded.
"I told you before," he said, "that it was not the amount of money, but the principle, that I care for. You cannot have forgotten this."
"I don't see how any principle is involved, Squire Hudson."
"You look at the matter solely from a debtor's point of view. If you held the mortgage, instead of myself, you would change your view very quickly."
"I don't think I should," said the farmer, slowly. "I would be considerate to a poor neighbor, even if it did inconvenience me a little."
"The poor neighbor should not have borrowed money on which he was unable to pay interest," said Squire Hudson, severely.
"How could I anticipate the drought that hasdiminished my crops?" said Mark Nelson, with spirit.
"That is neither here nor there. You knew that the interest must be paid, drought or no drought, crop or no crop."
"I cannot argue with you further, since you refuse to consider circumstances over which I have had no control. You refuse to grant me any delay?"
"I do."
"Since I have not the money to pay you, will you tell me what you require?"
"How many cows do you keep?"
"Three."
"You can give me one of these, and I will consider it an equivalent for the thirty dollars."
"Do you require this?" asked the farmer, uneasily.
"Yes; unless you have some other satisfactory arrangement to propose."
"I am afraid I have nothing else which you would regard as satisfactory. The loss of a cow will diminish my income. Instead of three, Iought to have four or five. I shouldn't like to be reduced to two."
"Very likely not; but an honest man is willing to make a sacrifice in order to meet his just liabilities. Besides, you expect to have the money, you say, in a couple of months. When it has come, you may have your cow back, on paying two months' interest on the deferred payment. That is only fair."
"Say no more, Squire Hudson," said the farmer. "I must, of course, consent to this arrangement since you insist upon it. How soon do you wish for the cow?"
"You had better let your son Walter drive it over this afternoon."
"He is losing no time," thought Mark Nelson, bitterly. "He does not even appear to be willing that I should have the benefit of this night's milking."
"You may send me Whiteface," continued Squire Hudson, who knew that this was the most valuable of the three cows.
"That is my best cow," protested the farmer"That makes little difference, as you expect to redeem it in two months."
Mark Nelson was silent. He felt indignant with Squire Hudson for his cruel exaction; but he felt that he was in his power, and that he must submit to his exactions.
"You will attend to this matter?" asked the squire, as he rose and prepared to go.
"Yes," answered the farmer, coldly.
When his creditor was gone he went into the kitchen and acquainted the family with what had passed. Great were the grief and indignation of the children, and Walter expressed a desire that Squire Hudson might lose all his property as a fitting reward for his meanness.
"Heaven help me if I can't meet the next interest!" said Mark Nelson, later in the day, to his wife.
"Don't be too much troubled about the future, Mark," said his wife, who was of a more hopeful temperament than her husband; "I am sure that you will get some help from Tom before six months are over."
"I hope so," answered her husband; but for the rest of the day he was very grave.
Walter drove over Whiteface, at his father's request; but he came near crying, stout boy as he was, at the loss of the faithful animal which his father had reared from a calf.
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After his escape from the grizzly Tom had no further adventures of an exciting character. One afternoon he and his companions arrived at Sacramento. It was but a small settlement, but was more town-like than any place they had yet seen in California. They drove to a two-story frame building, which was the chief hotel in the town. Taking the precaution to inquire the price of board and lodging, they were dismayed by the extravagance of the charges. Tom saw that his reserve fund of twenty dollars would scarcely last him forty-eight hours.
"I can't stay here, Mr. Ferguson," he said. "I will take my chances and camp out, if necessary."
"I agree with you, lad; I'm not inclined to waste my substance on luxurious living."
"There won't be much luxurious living, I guess," said Ebenezer Onthank, who, with Yankee curiosity, had already visited the kitchen and obtained some idea of the fare to be expected. "I kin get better board at Green Mountain Mills for three dollars a week, and folks are darned glad to accommodate you for that price. These chaps seem to think and act as if we were made of money."
"I wish some of your Green Mountain Mills boarding-houses were here," said Tom. "I could save plenty of money then."
"Well, gentlemen, do you want to stay here?" inquired the landlord.
"We'd like to, squire, but not bein' millionaires I guess we'll have to put it off till times are better."
"Just as you say," said the landlord, indifferently. "There's others waiting for the only room I have empty." Then, noticing for the first time the express wagon which Tom had left outside, he asked, in a tone of interest, "Who owns that team?"
"It belongs to this boy and myself," answered Ferguson.
"Where did it come from?"
"The States."
"You don't want to sell, do you?"
Tom was about to reply in the affirmative, but the Scot, more shrewd, answered indifferently, "We may sell it when we get to San Francisco."
"I need just such a team as that," said the landlord, eagerly. "I'll give you a good price for it. You can go down the river to Frisco."
"I suppose we might," said Ferguson, slowly, "if it was worth our while."
"What'll you take, cash down?" inquired the landlord, earnestly.
"Nay, my friend, I prefer to hear your views as to the price."
"I will give you eight hundred dollars for the wagon."
This was certainly an excellent profit, for but three hundred had been paid for horse and wagon. Tom's heart beat fast with excitement, for heremembered that one-third of the money would come to him. If it had depended upon him he would have clinched the bargain at once, but he wisely left the matter in the hands of his companion and partner.
"That seems a fair offer," said Ferguson; "but I think we may as well wait till we reach San Francisco. Besides, we want to sell the horse, too."
"I will give you a thousand dollars for the two," said the landlord.
A man with his pantaloons tucked in his boots, a coarse woolen shirt, and a wide-brimmed sombrero, which overshadowed a face bearing a beard of a week's growth, was leaning against the door-post.
"Landlord," said he, "I see your price, and I'll go two hundred better."
Tom stared at the speaker in surprise. He looked like a man who would have found it hard to raise twelve dollars, yet he had made an offer of twelve hundred. Our hero did not learn till afterwards that the man had "struck it rich" at themines, sold out his claim for ten thousand dollars, and for the time being was the lucky possessor of a large bank account.
"Now, Tom Scott," expostulated the landlord, "this ain't fair. I want the wagon more'n you do, and you're a-raisin' the price on me."
"How do you know that?" drawled Scott. "I've got a pile, and I mean to take it easy while it lasts. I'm going back to the mines like a gentleman, with my own team, you bet, if I've got money enough to buy one."
The landlord was satisfied that, if he wanted the team, he must outbid his competitor, and advanced his offer to thirteen hundred dollars. But Tom Scott was not terrified. His money had come easily, and he would not let two or three hundred dollars stand in the way of his wishes.
"I'll go fifteen," he drawled.
The landlord shrugged his shoulders, and said, in a disappointed tone, "You'll have to take it, Scott. You've gone ahead of my pile."
"Well, stranger, is it a bargain?" asked Scott.
The Scotchman, though inwardly elated as wellas astonished at the extraordinary offer he had received, answered quietly, "If my partner agrees."
"I guess we'd better sell," said Tom, trying not to betray his inward satisfaction.
"All right," said Scott, appearing to be well pleased. "You can have your money when you want it. If you are going to Frisco, I'll give you an order on my banker there."
"Tom Scott's a square man, and his order will fetch the money," said the landlord, observing Ferguson's prudent hesitation.
"That is satisfactory," replied Ferguson.
In five minutes more the business was concluded, and Ferguson and Tom, longing to congratulate each other on their good fortune, walked off together.
"We're in luck, Mr. Ferguson," said Tom. "I don't know whether I stand on my head or my heels. I never expected such a price."
"Twelve hundred dollars is a great profit," said Ferguson. "I almost doubt whether we are justified in asking such an extortionate price of the poor man."
"He is pleased with his bargain, and I don't think we need to trouble ourselves about that," answered Tom. "Besides, you know we can't compare prices with those at home."
"No doubt there is reason in what you say, my lad; but it's not easy at first to make allowance for the difference."
"That's so, Mr. Ferguson. When shall we go to San Francisco?"
"We will go to-morrow, if we can. I suppose you will wish to send some money to your father."
"Yes, I am in a hurry to send to him, for I am sure he needs it already. I can hardly realize that I am worth five hundred dollars."
"Five hundred?"
"Yes, I had a third share in the team."
"That isn't my way of looking at it, Tom."
"Is it possible Mr. Ferguson would cheat me out of my fair share?" thought Tom, but he only harbored the suspicion for an instant. He had seen too much of his friend to believe such a thing, and he quietly waited for an explanation.
"I'll tell you how I propose that we divide it, Tom. First we'll take out the money each of us put in, one hundred for you and two hundred for me, and then we'll divide the profit equally."
"But," protested Tom, "you are entitled to two-thirds."
"Then I won't take it," said Ferguson, decidedly. "I only want half of the profit. That will give me eight hundred dollars, and that ought to satisfy me."
"And I shall have seven hundred," said Tom, his eyes sparkling.
"Precisely."
"How kind you are, Mr. Ferguson!" exclaimed Tom, eagerly seizing the Scotchman's hand.
"No, my lad; I am only just. I am glad to help a boy who is working for his father and family."
"I shouldn't deserve to succeed if I didn't," said Tom, earnestly.
"Always bear that in mind, my lad, and God will smile on your efforts, and raise you up friends."
In spite of the high price, Tom and his partner felt justified now in stopping over night at the hotel where they had met with such a piece of good luck, and the next day started down the river for San Francisco.
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It was an interesting moment for our two friends when they landed in San Francisco. The future Western metropolis was only a town of scattered wooden and adobe houses, with irregular streets and a general lack of uniformity in its buildings; but everybody seemed on the alert. The number of drones was wonderfully small; even the constitutionally lazy could not resist the golden incentives to labor. Money was looked upon with very different eyes there and at the East. No one took the trouble to dispute prices; and a man who landed with an article rare or desirable could often obtain twenty times its value. Within ten minutes of his arrival Tom witnessed a case of this kind.
Just as he was entering Montgomery street he noticed a man—evidently a new-comer—with afine bunch of pineapples in his hand. He had just arrived in the steamer Columbus, then anchored out in the stream.
"I shouldn't mind having one of those pineapples," said Tom to Ferguson.
"Doubtless they are high-priced, being a rarity," said the Scotchman.
Just then a passer-by, attracted like Tom, and feeling a similar longing, stepped up to the new-comer.
"Are those pineapples for sale?" he asked.
"Yes, if you'll pay enough," was the half-jocular reply.
"Name your price."
"Ten dollars."
"Here is your money;" and he put a gold piece into the hand of the astounded passenger, which represented ten times the sum he had paid for the fruit at San Blas.
"That's a pretty steep price," said Tom, "for six pineapples."
"It is very wasteful to spend such a sight of money to pamper the appetite," said the cannyScot. "Truly, a fool and his money are soon parted."
He was destined to be still more surprised. The purchaser within five minutes transferred half his purchase to another for fifteen dollars.
"Gold seems to be plenty here," said Tom.
"I hope all provisions are not as high," said Ferguson, "or we shall soon have a chance to spend all we have."
"Where shall we go first?" asked Tom.
"We had better go to a public house, and secure a lodging," said Ferguson.
"I wish I knew some one here to direct me."
Scarcely had Tom uttered these words than he cried out in surprise, "Why, there's John Miles!"
They were passing a little, unpainted, wooden building, of one and a half stories, used as a grocery. A German name was on the sign; but behind the rough counter stood the familiar form of John Miles.
Tom dashed into the store, followed by his more dignified companion.
"How are you, John?" he exclaimed.
"Why, if it isn't Tom," returned Miles, his face showing the joy he felt. "And here's Mr. Ferguson, too."
Then there ensued a hearty shaking of hands, followed by the question, "When did you get here?"
"About twenty minutes ago."
"And you came straight to me. That's good."
"So it is; but it's an accident. We had no idea where you were. So you are a grocer, John. Is the place yours?"
"If it is, then I've changed my name," said Miles, pointing to the sign bearing the name:—
JOHN SCHINKELWITZ.
"The first name's right, at any rate," said Tom, laughing. "I suppose you are the clerk, then."
"Yes."
"How long have you been here?"
"Four weeks."
"Is it a good business?"
"Very good. My Dutch friend pays me five dollars a day, and I sleep here."
"Among the groceries?"
"Yes; it saves me the expense of a bed outside, and that is a good deal. I haven't saved quite enough to pay you yet, Tom, but I can soon."
"No hurry, John. I have been lucky since I saw you."
"I am glad to hear it, Tom. Did the claim prove more productive?"
"No; but I have been speculating. Guess how much money I have with me."
"A hundred and fifty dollars."
"More."
"Two hundred."
"More yet."
"Not three hundred, Tom?"
"I won't make you guess any more. I have seven hundred dollars. No wonder you look surprised. I'll tell you how I made it;" and Tom repeated the story of his purchase and its profitable sale.
"I am not so much surprised now," said Miles, "for in this country a man will have what hetakes a fancy to, no matter what it costs. I am glad the good luck came to you and Mr. Ferguson. I shouldn't mind having that amount of money myself."
"What would you do with it?"
"I would buy out my employer, and then I could make money fast."
"Does he want to sell?"
"Yes, he wants to go to the mines."
"Would he sell for such a small sum?"
"Yes; there isn't much of a stock, but we are constantly replenishing. I tell you what, Tom,youbuy him out, and I'll manage the business."
"Are you in earnest, John?"
"Certainly I am."
"But I want to send some money home," objected Tom.
"How much?"
"A hundred dollars at least."
"I'll lend you the hundred, my lad," said Ferguson, "and fifty more, and you can take your own money and buy the business. I don't favor acting hastily, in general, but I have faith inour friend here, and I am led to believe that the enterprise will be a profitable one."
"You'll be my partner, Tom, and I'll give you a third of the profits without your doing a thing. If you work with me, you shall have as much more as will be satisfactory."
"I would rather go back to the mines, John, and leave you to manage this business by yourself. A quarter of the profits will satisfy me."
"No, it shall be a third. As you furnish the capital, that is only fair."
"We may be counting our chickens too soon. Perhaps your Dutch friend, whose name I can't pronounce, won't sell."
"Here he is to speak for himself."
A short German, with a ponderous frame, and a broad, good-humored face, here entered the grocery, panting with the exertion of walking, and looked inquiringly at Tom and the Scotchman.
"Herr Schinkelwitz, this is my friend, Tom Nelson," said Miles.
"Glad to see you, mine vriend," said the German, addressing Ferguson.
"No, that is Mr. Ferguson," said Miles, smiling. "I should have introduced him first."
"Wie gehts, Herr Ferguson?" said the grocer. "You have one strange name."
"Your name seems strange to me," said the Scotchman.
"Oh, no; Schinkelwitz is a very common name. Most peoples admire my name."
Tom was considerably amused, but Herr Schinkelwitz did not observe the smile which he could not repress.
"I have told my friends you would like to sell out the business," said Miles.
"Oh, ja, it is a good business, but my health is not good. I think it will be much better at the mines. You will do well to buy it yourself."
"I would if I had money enough."
"Ja, I must have the money, for I shall need it."
"My friend here has money, and may buy of you," said Miles, indicating Tom.
"What, the boy?"
"Yes."
"Where did he get so much money?"
"At the mines."
"Oh, ja, that is a good place to get gold. Well, my young vriend, I will sell cheap."
It will not be necessary to enter into a detailed account of the negotiation. It is enough to say that for the sum of seven hundred dollars Herr Schinkelwitz made over the business to Herr Tom, as he called him, and our hero found himself penniless, but the owner of a grocery. In half an hour it was all completed.
"Now, Tom, you are my boss," said Miles. "Shall I put your name outside?"
"No, John, put your own. I am only a silent partner, you know."
"I congratulate you, Tom," said Ferguson. "Here are two hundred dollars, for which you can give me your note."
"Two hundred?"
"Yes; you will need some yourself, besides what you send to your father."
"Suppose I can't pay you back?"
"Then I will levy on the grocery, my lad," said Ferguson.
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Having completed this important business arrangement, the two friends went out to explore the town. The limits were narrow compared with those of the flourishing city of the present day. Where the Palace and Grand hotels now stand was a sand-hill, and the bay encroached upon the business part of the city far more than now.
Scarcely a stone's throw from the grocery, on Montgomery street, between California and Sacramento, was the office of Adams' Express, which advertised to forward gold-dust and packages by every steamer.
"I will go in here, Mr. Ferguson," said Tom. "I shall not feel comfortable till I have started this money homeward. I am sure it will be wanted."
"Right, my lad. We will attend to it, by all means."
They entered the building,—a very humble one it would now be considered,—but they found other customers before them, and had to wait for their turn.
"What can I do for you?" asked the clerk, in a quick, business-like tone.
"I want to send home a hundred dollars," said Tom.
"Give me the address."
This was done, the money paid over, and a receipt returned in two minutes.
"How long before my father will receive the money?" asked Tom.
"The steamer starts in three days. About a month will be needed."
Then Tom moved aside, and the next man took his place.
"I am glad that is attended to," said Tom, relieved. "Now, Mr. Ferguson, I will go wherever you wish."
"We had better secure a lodging," said theScotchman. "When we are sure of a bed we can walk about at our leisure."
Lodgings were to be had, but they were generally very dear. The first room looked at was five dollars per day, without board,—a price our friends were unwilling to pay. Finally they found a decent, though small room, with rather a narrow bed, which could be had for three fifths of that sum, and they engaged it.
"We will have to go back to the mines soon," said Tom. "San Francisco is too expensive for us to live in."
"You can afford it better than I, Tom," said his friend.
"Why?"
"Because you have a business that brings you in an income."
"Oh, I forgot that," said our hero, smiling. "Things happen so fast here that I haven't got used to my new position. Do you think I invested my money wisely, Mr. Ferguson?"
"Yes, my lad, since your agent is a trustworthy, honest man."
"I am sure I can trust John Miles."
"If I were not confident of it, also, I would not have encouraged you to take so important a step."
"I think I won't write to father about it," said Tom, after a pause. "He might think I had acted foolishly, and become anxious. If I succeed, then I shall be glad to surprise him. I think I shall make money; but I don't want to count on it too much. I shall be ready to go back with you to the mines whenever you say the word."
As they sauntered about, gazing curiously at the motley sights around them, they heard strains of music. It appeared to proceed from a large wooden building, with a jutting roof, under which, on benches, lounged a number of persons, some of them Mexicans, in their native costumes, smoking cigarettes. A large American flag was displayed over the door, and a crowd was constantly passing in and out.
"Let us go in," said Tom.
His companion making no objection, theyentered. The first sight of the interior made clear the character of the place. There were numerous tables, spread with games,—faro, monte, and roulette,—each surrounded by an absorbed and interested group. "Easy come, easy go," was the rule with the early California pioneers, and the gaming-table enlisted in its service many men who would not have dreamed at home that they could ever be brought to tolerate such an instrument of evil.
Tom was a country boy, and unsophisticated, but he could not help understanding the nature of the business which brought so many to the place.
"I suppose they are gambling," he said.
"Yes, poor, deluded creatures!" said the Scotchman, who had been brought up to an abhorrence of games of chance. "They are wasting their time and their substance, and foolishly laying up for themselves future misery."
Had this remark been heard it would have excited indignation, and perhaps subjected the speaker to insult; but the players were too intentupon their varying chances to pay any attention to the remarks of by-standers.
"I hope, Tom, you will never yield to the seductive lures of the gaming-table," continued Ferguson.
"I don't think there is much danger," said Tom. "I have always been taught that gambling is wicked."
"May you long feel so, my lad!"
Tom did, however, watch the players with interest. He saw money lost and won, without understanding exactly how it was decided. From the game his attention was drawn to the gamesters. He was led to notice, particularly, a young man of prepossessing countenance, who was evidently profoundly excited. From time to time he drew out a roll of gold pieces, which he placed on a card, and invariably lost. He must have had a considerable sum; but, small or large, he was in ill-luck, and constantly lost. As he neared the end of his resources the feverish blush upon his handsome features was succeeded by a deep pallor, and there was no mistaking the expression ofdeep anguish and despair which announced that he had reached the end.
Tom became painfully interested in the young man, and silently drew the attention of his companion to him. When the end came, and the victim, thoroughly "cleaned out," turned to go out, Tom said, in a low voice, "Let us follow him."
Ferguson acquiesced. He, too, had become interested, and the young man's expression as he passed our two friends was so despairing that Ferguson felt some alarm as to the effect of his disappointment upon his mind.
Once in the street, Ferguson and Tom followed the unfortunate young man into an obscure street, keeping up with difficulty, for his pace was rapid and excited. It proved to be a fortunate thing, for when he supposed himself free from observation the young man drew a pistol, and, with an incoherent exclamation, placed it in contact with his temple.
Tom sprang forward, and so did the Scotchman; but the boy was the quicker and moreagile, and dashed the pistol aside just in time to prevent a suicide.
"Why did you do that?" asked the baffled would-be-suicide, gloomily, turning his gaze upon Tom.
"I was afraid you were going to kill yourself."
"So I was."
"What could induce you to take such a rash step?" asked Ferguson.
"I have been a reckless fool. I have lost all my money at the accursed gambling-table, and my life is not worth retaining."
"It appears to me," said the Scotchman, quietly, "that you set too high a value upon money. You have certainly been very foolish to risk it at the gaming-table, and the loss will no doubt inconvenience you; but was your money all you had to live for?"
The young man regarded Ferguson with some surprise; but his excitement was evidently abated. The quiet tone of the speaker had a favorable effect upon him.
"I didn't think of it in that light," he admitted.
"Have you no relatives to whom your life is of value?"
"Yes," answered the young man. "I have a mother and sister."
"Would not your death affect them more than the loss of money?"
"Yes."
"It seems to me that to take your life would be to treat them cruelly."
The young man was evidently agitated by contending thoughts.
"I suppose you are right," he said, slowly; "but let me tell you all, and you can judge me better: I arrived in California six months since. My home is in Ohio, not far from Cincinnati. I was fortunate enough to commence mining at a point on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountains where I was almost alone. I 'struck it rich,' and two days since arrived in San Francisco with over two thousand dollars in gold-dust."
"You were certainly in luck," said Ferguson, surprised.
"I turned it into money, and, in strolling about the city, was lured into that accursed den. I looked on and was fascinated. I thought I would try my luck. I began with a small stake, and kept on till I had lost every dollar. In one hour the fruits of six months' labor are gone. Do you wonder that I am reduced to despair?"
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"I see no cause for despair," replied Ferguson, in the same calm tone.
"I have not a penny left out of the two thousand dollars I had only an hour since."
"I understand all that."
"I am a ruined man," said the young man, despondently.
"I don't admit that. How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"You are well and strong, are you not?"
"Oh, yes, I have nothing to complain of on that score."
"Then it appears to me that your loss is not serious. Your capital still remains."
"My capital?" repeated the young man.
"Yes; your strong arms, your education, your capacity to labor."
"But I shall have to begin over again."
"Beginning over again at your age, when, possibly, fifty years of life lie before you, is not such a serious matter. Were I in your situation,—and I am twice as old as you,—I should not thing of despairing. Don't you think it would be rather foolish for two thousand dollars, which you have been only six months in accumulating, to throw away fifty years, and all that you can make in that time, thereby bringing a life-long grief to your mother and sister?"
The calm, logical tone of the Scotchman had its effect.
"I see that I was about to add to one piece of folly another far greater," said the young man. "I don't know who you are, sir, but I heartily thank you and your son for saving my life."
"This is not my son, but my young friend, Thomas Nelson," said Ferguson. "I am not so fortunate as to have a son."
"Well, God bless you both, and good-night!"
"Excuse my persistency, but may I ask where you are going?"
"I am not going to repeat my folly of just now, if that is what you mean."
"I did not suspect you of that; but are you sure of a bed anywhere?"
"No; I have no money to pay for one. I shall walk the streets, or possibly lie down in some quiet place. I was accustomed to roughing it at the mines, and can do it again if necessary."
"Tom and I have a room in which you are welcome to find a shelter. I am sorry that our bed is too narrow to hold another."
"Thank you. That will be better than to sleep in the streets. But are you not afraid to make me this offer?"
"Why should I be?"
"I might rob you during the night."
"You might, but you don't look like one who would so reward confidence."
"You are right. If you had fifty thousand dollars I would not touch a dollar of it. I will accept your offer. How can I repay you for your kindness?"
"There may be a way. We will talk of that this evening."
Nine o'clock found the three collected in the small room which had been hired by Ferguson for himself and Tom.
"My friend," said Ferguson, "you told us that you found a favorable place for mining up in the Sierras."
"Yes, I 'struck it rich.'"
"I take it for granted that you did not exhaust the wealth of the place?"
"Far from it. I only dipped into it. There is abundance left."
"Is this place known to many?"
"To only one, so far as I know. He and I worked independently, but were company for each other."
"But what induced you to leave so rich a claim?"
"I was tired of working, and wanted to come to the city for a change. You know what a change I have experienced here."
"Why don't you go back and start anew inthe place where you met with your former good fortune?" asked Ferguson.
"Because I am penniless. I must find something to do here for a while. When I have got together a little fund, sufficient for the purpose, I will go back."
"Would you go back now, if you had the chance?"
"Would I? Certainly I would, for I could make money faster there than here."
"Would you have any objection to let Tom and myself accompany you?"
"Not the least. I should be glad of your company. There is gold enough for us all."
"Then we will start to-morrow, that is, if you and Tom are willing."
"I am ready," said Tom, promptly.
"But I have nothing. I don't like to be an expense to you," objected the young man.
"We will pay your expenses. We shall be more than recompensed by the richness of the mines. We might find something to do here, but both Tom and myself prefer the freedom of themining camp, and, if the spot is as rich as you have led us to suspect, we shall make more money there."
"Agreed!" said the young man, promptly. "Name the hour of starting, and rely upon me to be ready."
Ferguson was evidently well pleased with this response. He felt that his new acquaintance would be so far away from the city, and would sooner retrieve his fortunes at the mines. He hoped, too, to find opportunity to strengthen his principles, and guard him against the temptations of the city when he should again visit it. Again, he had reason to think that the arrangement would benefit Tom and himself in a pecuniary way, and the Scotchman was by no means indifferent to that consideration; though, as we have seen, he did not unduly exalt the power or value of money.
Tom, too, was pleased with the prospect. He was grateful and attached to Ferguson, whom he felt to be a true friend, but he was glad to have another companion nearer his own age. The young man was of a prepossessing exterior, andwhen he had shaken off his present disquietude looked as if he might be a cheerful and agreeable companion.
"Since we are to live together, for a time at least, and become fellow-workers," said Ferguson, "we ought to know each other better. I will introduce myself first."
Hereupon Ferguson gave a brief account of himself, which need not be repeated, and then called upon Tom, who followed his example.
"Now it is my turn," said their new acquaintance. "You don't even know my name yet, though you have done me such an important service. I have already told you that I am from Ohio. My name is Richard Russell, though my friends generally call me Dick. My father, whom I had the misfortune to lose several years since, was at one time a member of Congress. He left a small property, the income of which is barely sufficient to provide my mother and sister with the comforts of life. I had a fair education, including enough Latin and Greek to fit me for entering college. My mother desired me to enter; but I knewthat she could not keep me there without practicing pinching economy, and I secured a place with a small salary in a business house in Cincinnati. A year since, when the papers were full of the gold discoveries on this coast, I was seized, like so many others, with the golden fever, and arranged to start overland. It would have proved a wise step had I not been so rash a fool as to squander my earnings; for two thousand dollars in six months compare very favorably with twelve dollars a week, which I was earning at home. I might have gone home by the next steamer, and had money enough to carry me through a course of legal study, had I desired. I am out of patience with myself when I think of how I have thrown away my good fortune."
"Don't think too much of the past, which cannot be recalled. Resolve not to repeat your folly, and all may yet be well."
"I have fully resolved upon that," said Russell, earnestly.
"Do you think you shall study law, if you are again fortunate, Mr. Russell?" asked Tom.
"If you please don't call me Mr. Russell, unless you want me to call you Mr. Nelson. Call me Dick."
"I will," said Tom, smiling, "for I am not ready to be called Mr. Nelson yet."
"Now, to answer your question: if I can get two thousand dollars together again, I shall probably study law. Of course I don't mean to be a miner all my life any more than you. Now, Tom, what are your plans?"
"I think I should like to be a lawyer, too, but I must earn more than two thousand dollars first."
"Two thousand ought to be sufficient to educate you if you are economical."
"It would be, but I want to pay off a mortgage on my father's farm before I begin to lay up money for myself."
"You are a good fellow, Tom, and I wish you success."
"Thank you, Dick. I will succeed if hard work can bring success."
"Good-night to you both," said Ferguson. "Iwant to sleep well to prepare myself for starting to-morrow."
In half an hour all three were sleeping soundly.