CHAPTER XI.
The very day that had witnessed the departure of John and Muriel with their helpless burden and Dopey, who was grumbling constantly at the unwonted hardships he was undergoing, a new party came to the shack. The ashes were scarcely cold on the rude hearth when Bennie and Loney came climbing painfully to the door. Loney was nearly dead from the fatigue and half-sobbed, as he said:
“Oh, Bennie! let us rest a little. That was an awful climb coming that way! It would have been easier to come right over the biggest mountain all at once. Can you see the rest?”
“No,” said Bennie, cheerfully, “how could I see them when they must be back of the bend in the trail? They are coming, all right.”
“Do you think they could get lost on the way?” asked the child, fearfully.
“No; now don’t you worry over them. That lady, the Angel, as they call her here, knows every inch of the ground in this place. She told us how to come, and if she is behind it is becauseshe is helping Mr. Goldberg with his tent and things.”
Bennie here lifted his own burden again, to see if he could not have carried a few pounds’ weight, to relieve the older man.
“It is too bad we had to sell Jake to Shoshone. He was such a help,” sighed the boy, regretfully.
“Yes, it was too bad, as you say, but we could not feed him, and a horse dies if he is not fed regularly.”
“Isn’t she a nice lady to come with us, Bennie?”
“She is that,” said Bennie, with convincing emphasis. “She told Mr. Goldberg that she knew every foot of the way and all the mountains, like you know the streets in the city. She can show him just where his claim is located, because he showed her the paper that the dead man had given him in New York. It is like magic to me. However anyone ever knows how to cross the road in this place, I don’t see. Ah, if we could only get a trace of Dora!”
Here Bennie again grew so melancholy that Loney crept to his side and slipped his bony little hand into that of the man, who closed his own over it, and somehow felt comforted for the unspoken sympathy.
“But, Bennie, if we have to stop to dig for gold, how can we be looking for Dora, too?”
“You don’t seem to understand, Loney. We have no more money, any of us. We cannot continue our search without money. Mr. Goldberg hopes that he will find gold in the claim and in that way have money enough to search for Dora. It needs money to telegraph to every town on the map of Wyoming, to see if such a party has reached there, and where they went, and to follow them if they have gone, and to bring them to justice if they are caught. Oh, I hope he will find gold there, and then have enough to travel the wide world over, if need be, to find Dora!”
“Does it cost money to go on a train? And do we have to pay when we eat in a hotel?”
“You bet!” said Bennie, wishing that he was at any kind of a hotel where he could get a good meal.
“Then what am I going to do? I had dinner and breakfast at the hotel, and did not know it had to be paid for. Mr. Goldberg gives every one a dinner, and just ask him if ever he is paid for it. He gives it, but I don’t know what to do.”
“How did you happen to go into the dining-room alone?”
“I didn’t. Shoshone—I mean Mr. Shoshone—took me in both times.”
“Oh, then, you are all right, and he is responsible for both meals, and I guess he is responsible, all right. He seems to be a man of some consequence out here, and I think he is a good fellow. He seems to like you, too.”
Just then the two, who were sitting down to rest, saw the bent form of Morris Goldberg coming around the bend in the trail, and Bennie sprang forward to help him, forgetting that he had carried the heaviest pack all along. Morris was heard complaining:
“Are ve nefer going to reach der place, laty? It’s a vonder dey don’t put in elevators in a place like dis. It is now von mont’ dot ve haf tramped like dis und nefer seem to get nearer, und I am nearly voret out. I vish ve hat not sold Jake, but den—ve haf to eat. But he vos a goot horse, und he vos petter as nodings to carry t’ings.”
“Have courage. We have now only about four miles further to go, and then we can camp upon your claim and settle down to work while others look for your daughter. All the boys will do that. I know that Shoshone intends to telegraph all over, to head them off.”
“Ah, he is a goot fellow, dot Shoshone is. Novonder golt is so dear, ven you haf to climb to vere it is. How long you t’ink it vill take to fint it, laty?”
“No one can tell as to that. Sometimes it takes weeks and months, and sometimes it is found right on the surface. I knew one man and he worked at his claim four years, finding just barely enough to live on in the poorest way, and everyone thought he had lost his reason, being alone so long and being always disappointed. Then, one day, when he had about given up hope, he stepped on a loose stone, and as he fell he found his mine. And it is one of the richest in the State. Others seem to stumble into good luck at once, and in a week will be rich. So be of good cheer. These mountains, dark and forbidding as they look, are full of gold that will be found some day. We will get there in time.”
“May de goot Gott put dis one on de top, for den I can haf de money to hunt for mein poor Dora! Laty, I vonder if you know vot it is to lose your chilt? Oxcuse me, I know you do. I forgot, but dis is eating my heart out all de time. I cannot bear it much more!”
“Ah, here is little Loney”—and as he caressed the curly hair, Helen continued: “Only Heaven knows what I would give to see my childagain! But it has been more than ten times as long as that since your child was stolen. I fear he is dead! my poor little boy, my baby.”
“Well, you know I promised you that I would be your little boy now; anyhow, till you find your own little boy. Then—I suppose—you won’t want me any more?”
“Ah, yes I would; yes I would, for you are a comfort to me in my sorrow.”
The child nestled close to Helen, who passed her arm around him and drew him close to her yearning heart. Nothing told this mother, bereft of her only one, that she held him to her heart, nor did the numbed intellect of the boy tell him that this was his mother. And yet they were mother and son, and destiny was planning to again divide their ways.
Morris sat down weakly, in almost the same place where John had watched the previous night, but his unused eyes failed to show him the cigar-butt that lay almost at his feet. He said, gloomily:
“How shall ve do apout somedings to eat, laty? Dere is not much left. Oh, de Bennie! nefer mindt, nefer mindt, I can get along mit very little—yust so dot ve fint dot mine.”
“Hooray!” shouted Bennie, who had been exploring in the shack. “I have found bacon, coffee,flour and sugar. Now, what do you think of that?”
“I dink dot ve haf no right to touch vot belongs to oders.”
“But you don’t know the rules, Mr. Goldberg. Whatever is in this shack is for the benefit of the person who comes here for shelter. We have a perfect right to use what is here. I will cook some, and then we will go on. We will have plenty, for the mountains are full of game. I have tramped for weeks and found all I wanted, and there must be as much now. We can get some flour and coffee occasionally and live off the game for the rest.”
“Dot’s all right, so long vot you are mit us, but ven you be gone ve shall go hungry, for I could not shoot a pirt if mein life tependet upon it. Yah, you are right. Ve vill be petter to eat somedings.”
As Helen went to cut the bacon, to fry, she was astonished to see that it showed that a piece had been cut from it, and that the hearth showed evidence of a recent fire. But she said nothing, and proceeded to prepare a thick cake of the flour, to bake in the pan, after which she would fry the bacon. The coffee would cook at the same time. She went outside, to gather some dry wood, and as she stooped down to pick upone piece she found the stump of the cigar; and, in some inscrutable way, she associated this fragment with her recreant husband. It was just this way that the ends were always chewed, and smoked just so far. And it was fresh. It had not lain long in this place, for it showed neither dust nor was it dry. John Pierson had passed by this place, Helen felt sure, but why?
With the habit of silence induced by the solitary life in the mountains, Helen kept her discovery to herself, and in a short time they were all eating their repast thus miraculously provided. And neither Morris nor Bennie thought about the forbidden flesh until it was all eaten, so sharp had been their hunger and so many had been the events crowded into their lives recently. When they did realize it, they were contrite, but they recognized the virtue of necessity. In this place, as in all mines, bacon is the mainstay, without which nothing could be done.
After the meagre but satisfying dinner was finished, Helen put the remains of the bacon and flour back into the hanging-box and they prepared to continue their journey. Even Bennie was silent and somber, and Loney was so tired that his legs trembled, even when Helen held her sustaining arm around him. She began to wonder how this strange trio could manage tolive the life of hardship before them, and said as much to Morris, who replied:
“Ah, I must do it; and, since I do it for Dora, it is not going to pe too hart for me. I vill vork so hart as nefer vos to fint de golt, und mit dot I can soon fint her. Come, childrens, ve must go on along. De sooner ve start, de sooner ve get dere. Und den ve rest to-night und get busy to-morrow. I vish ve hat Jake vonce more.”
“Do you think you will surely be able to stand the work, Mr. Goldberg—alone?”
“Hafen’t I got Bennie and Loney? Vot more do I vant, oxcept a putcher-shop und a crocery close py. De question of vere de meals is to come from is vot bodders me in my mind.”
“I wanted to say that I will stay up here a short time until you learn how to manage. I am a good hunter and think we can keep enough food on hand to keep us from starvation.”
Bennie plodded on gloomily ahead, saying nothing, but bending his strong young back under the burden of impedimenta, among them a complete shoemaker’s outfit—all save the bench.
“Able to stant it,” mused the father; “yes, I vill stant it, and vork mein fingers to de pone, to find de golt, so I can find mein Dora!”