"Maybe it's Gabe," spoke Jed hopefully. "Shall I give a yell?"
"Wait a minute. Perhaps it isn't him. If it is, he has some one with him."
"Probably he's brought some of his friends to help look for us. I suppose we are to blame for all this. Never mind, when he hears what we have to tell him, he'll not scold us. I guess we'd better——"
But the sentence was never finished. At that moment there appeared, coming around the trail, three horsemen. And it needed but a glance to show that they were the same bad men who, early the day before, had retreated after Jed had given his warning whistle.
"Here they are!" cried Con Morton. "We've got 'em now!"
"Not yet!" cried Jed. "Come on, Will! Jump on your horse! The animals are rested and can carry us and the packs!"
With a quick motion he was in the saddle. Will followed his brother's example.
"Now, Pete!" cried Jed to the horse. "Let's see what sort of stuff you're made of!"
"Hold on there!" cried Con Morton, as he saw the two lads were about to escape him.
"Haven't time!" shouted back Jed.
"I want to speak to you!" went on the gambler.
"No, you don't!" said Will to himself. "I know what that means!"
He kicked his heels on his horse's sides, and the good old plow horse increased its pace. Owing to the fact that the steeds of the boys were fresh, and to the circumstance that the animals of the gamblers had quite a slope to climb, the boys secured a good lead. They did not ride back up the valley, but down it, though they turned into another trail, as it divided just where they had halted for their meal. To get on this trail Morton and his cronies would have to breast a slope, and then swing over to the left. The boys lost sight of them for a moment.
"I wonder why he came back after us?" asked Will.
"Probably they were hanging around. They saw that no one came to join us, and they imagined it was safe to tackle us. But I'm not going to give up."
"Me either. I'll fight first!"
With set faces the brothers urged their horses on. But now their pursuers had gained the turn, and were thundering down the second valley after them.
"Stop! stop!" yelled Morton.
Jed and Will returned no answer.
"If you don't halt we'll shoot!" added Haverhill.
"Do you suppose they will?" asked Jed's brother anxiously. "One of them has a revolver out," he added, as he gave a hasty backward glance.
"I don't believe so. They can't shoot very straight anyhow, with the way their horses and ours are going."
"Are you going to stop?" yelled Morton again.
"No!" cried Jed, as he urged his horse on down the mountain slope, while the pursuers came galloping on behind them.
When Gabe Harrison started up the mountain, with the intention of prospecting around a bit, seeking for indications of gold, he fully expected to be back within two hours. It was his idea that he might see signs of a lead which would be better than the one he and the boys were on.
Now if Gabe had had a horse that was used to mountain climbing several things in this story would not have happened. For a steed accustomed to scrambling over loose rocks, up steep slopes and down others still steeper, would have kept its footing, and not stumbled, as did Gabe's animal.
The old miner had ridden a few miles, and was convinced that no gold could be found in that direction. He was on the point of returning when something happened.
The horse stepped on a loose rock, on the edge of a gully, tried to recover its balance, in obedience to the frantic calls of Gabe, and his yankings on the bridle, and then pitched forward, throwing the old man off its back.
When Gabe recovered his senses, after many hours of unconsciousness, he found himself lying on the cold ground. He was quite wet with the dew, and lame and stiff. It was dark, and when he tried to move such a pain shot through his left leg that he had to lie quietly.
"Well, I wonder what in the world happened to me," said Gabe, speaking aloud. Then it came back to him, how his horse had stumbled with him, and how he had fallen into the gully, the last thing he remembered being when his head hit a stone.
"And I reckon I didn't hurt that rock as much as it hurt me," mused the old man, feeling of a large lump on the back of his head. "This is tough luck. My leg must be broken by the way it feels. Here I am, all alone in these mountains, and nobody knows where I am. Even the boys can't find me in this place."
He managed to get to a sitting position, moving cautiously because of his leg. Then he felt in his pocket and got a match, which he struck. By the glare of it he looked around. He saw nothing but a bowlder-strewn expanse. Then something moving, about a hundred feet away from him, attracted his attention.
"It's my horse!" he exclaimed. "If I can only get the animal over here, maybe I can crawl on his back and he'll take me to camp."
He called to the steed, but the animal gave no sign that it heard him. It continued to crop what scanty herbage there was.
"I've got to crawl over to it," mused poor Gabe, "and how I'm going to do it with a busted leg is more than I know. But it's got to be done. Something may happen to the boys. Here goes."
He started to crawl, but such an intense pain shot through his leg that it made him sick and faint. He leaned back against a big rock with a groan.
"No use!" he murmured. "I'm done for, I guess. Old Gabe Harrison has done his last prospecting. I'll die here—all alone. If I only knew the boys were safe!"
Then the pain and exhaustion brought a merciful insensibility. When Gabe opened his eyes again it was morning, and the sun was shining brightly. The horse he had ridden, and which had been the innocent cause of his misfortune, was now farther off, having gone to a little stream to drink.
"Oh, how I wish I had some of that water," thought poor Gabe. "My throat is parched. I wonder if the horse won't come to me now?"
He called, but the animal only raised its head, looked at him, and went on feeding.
"I'm going to crawl and get a drink of water if it kills me!" exclaimed the miner. "Might as well die in comfort if I've got to go."
He moved his leg cautiously. To his surprise the pain was not so great as it had been. Then he felt of it. Though the limb was sore and tender no bones seemed to be broken.
"Guess it's only a bad strain," he said. "There's some chance for me, after all. I'll try to catch the horse."
It was hard work, crawling along a few feet at a time, stopping to rest every now and then, to ease the pain, but Gabe accomplished it. He reached the little mountain stream, and drank the cold water. That made him feel better, and a little later he managed to catch the horse, and pull himself up into the saddle. Fortunately the animal seemed to know that the man was wounded, and kept still until the miner was mounted.
"Now it isn't so bad," said Gabe, "though my leg does hurt like all possessed. But I guess I can get to camp, and the boys will take care of me for a while. I'll be as good as ever in a few days, as long as nothing's broken."
Cautiously guiding his horse, Gabe made his way down the mountain trail. It took him twice as long to reach the camp as it had to make the journey the night before, but finally he came to where he had left the boys and their horses.
To his surprise neither of the lads were there, nor were their horses. There was only some of the camp stuff, and the pack which Gabe had removed from his steed's back before setting off into the mountains.
"Well, this gets me!" he exclaimed. "Where can they have gone? I told them to stay here until I came back, and I'm sure they would, for they don't know the trail. Their horses are gone too. I wonder——"
A sudden idea coming to him, he slowly dismounted from his horse, and crawled to the stakes to which had been fastened the steeds of the two lads. The short ends of the ropes that remained showed they had been broken.
"Something's happened!" exclaimed Gabe. "Those horses have got loose while the boys were away. But why did Jed and Will go away? Could it have been to look for me? If so, why aren't they here now? It's too much for me. Lucky my pack is left. I'm half starved."
By slowly crawling about he managed to get himself a meal. He felt better after that, and, having made a closer examination of his injured leg, and finding there was only a strain, which was rapidly getting better, he prepared to make himself as comfortable as possible in camp.
But he was sorely puzzled at the absence of the boys, and he made up his mind, as soon as he could travel with more safety, that he would set off after them, if they did not return that night, which he hoped they would do. But night came, and Jed and Will did not come back. Much worried, Gabe prepared to spend the lonely dark hours in the deserted camp.
Meanwhile, Jed and Will were flying from the pursuing gamblers. As they went on along the valley, they found that the trail turned and went up the mountain.
"Shall we take it?" asked Will.
"Nothing else to do," replied Jed. "We can't stand and fight those scoundrels. The only thing to do is to keep on."
"But we may get lost in the mountains."
"That's happened already. We can't be much worse off that way. Neither of us know where we are, nor how to get back to camp. The only thing to do is to keep on. We may distance them, and we may strike a mining camp, where we can get help."
Still behind them came the desperate men who half guessed at the truth—that the boys had gold—and this gold the gamblers were determined to obtain.
"I think we're leaving them behind," remarked Will, after a pause, during which they rode hard.
"Seems as if we couldn't hear them quite so plainly," agreed Jed. "But don't stop. It'll soon be dark, and maybe we can give them the slip."
Whether this happened, or whether the pursuers knew the boys could not escape them, the lads did not know. Certainly when it got too dark to travel any more in safety on the uncertain mountain trail, there was no longer the echo of hoofbeats behind them.
"Let's stop and make a sort of camp," proposed Jed. "We can't go on like this all night. We'll eat a bit, rest, and start the first thing in the morning."
But in the morning they had hardly made a hurried breakfast, and started along the trail again, ere from behind came the sounds of pursuit.
"They're after us!" said Jed grimly.
"They want that gold," added Will, "but they're not going to get it!"
Once more the pursuit was on, but the boys were determined never to give up as long as their horses could go. On their part the bad men were equally relentless. Urged on by the greed of Con Morton, the three kept up the chase.
"What's the good of it?" asked Haverhill, when after the second day the boys were still in the lead. "They'll get away from us."
"No, they'll not," said Morton fiercely. "I'll catch 'em if it takes a week!"
"What makes you think they have gold?"
"I'm sure of it. The way they acted convinces me of that. And I'm going to make 'em tell where they got it."
On they kept. The steeds of the boys were getting weary, for though they kept up a good lead they could only stop at short intervals for feed and water. This could not last, and Jed knew it. But with grim determination he and Will kept on.
It was toward the close of the fourth day of the pursuit amid the mountains. Only the fact that there were a number of trails, which wound in and out, had, up to this, prevented the capture of the boys. They doubled on their track several times, and thus fooled the gamblers, who knew as little of the mountains as did Will and Jed. And, in darkness, it was equally impossible for either party to advance, so uncertain was the travel.
But the bad men had this advantage—their horses were used to the mountains, and those of the boys were not. The pace was too rough and was being kept up too long for the farm steeds. They began to go slower.
"They're getting closer," announced Will, as they trotted along a ledge which skirted a dizzy canyon. "I can hear them more plainly."
"Guess you're right," admitted Jed. "Suppose we hide the gold somewhere, and let them catch us?"
"No, there's no telling what such desperate men would do to us. Let's keep on."
They urged their tired horses to a gallop. As they turned into a broader part of the trail, they could hear the rattle of stones dislodged by the horses of their pursuers.
"They're closing in," spoke Jed, "and I can't get any more speed out of Pete. I guess it's all up with us."
"Better give up!" called a voice behind them. "We've got you, and the longer we have to chase you, the worse it will be. Hold on now, or I'll shoot!"
They had a glimpse of Morton, with a revolver in his hand.
"Think he'll shoot?" asked Will.
Before Jed had a chance to answer there came the sharp crack of the weapon, and a bullet sang through the air over the boys' heads. Morton had purposely fired high, as he only wanted to scare the lads, but the shot had an unexpected effect. It so startled the horses of Jed and Will that they galloped forward as no urging by voice or whip could have made them.
"Shoot again!" cried Jed softly. "That's what we need. We'll leave 'em behind again!"
They were coming out on a shoulder of the mountain now, and could look down into the valley below them. There seemed to be something familiar about it. Both lads noted that at once.
"Isn't that where we were encamped?" asked Jed.
"It certainly looks like it," added Will.
"And there's a horse there, and a man who looks like Gabe!"
"It is Gabe!" cried Jed. "Hurrah! We're back at our old camp! Now let Morton and his gang come after us if they dare!"
The trail led downward, and the horses of the lads, finding going easier, or, perhaps, recognizing the place where they had strayed from, and desiring to get back to it, did not drop back into the slow pace that had characterized their gait before the shot was fired.
"Hello, Gabe!" yelled Jed, waving his hat at the old man.
Mr. Harrison looked up. He recognized Jed and Will. He swung his hat in answer and shouted a welcome.
At that moment the pursuers came in sight around the bend in the trail. They, too, saw the camp, and noted Gabe. But they also saw that he walked with a limp. Instead of turning back, as the boys expected the gamblers would, they kept on.
"Are you going up against Gabe?" asked Haverhill of Morton. "He's a good fighter."
"I'm not afraid. He's been hurt. See him limp. I've come too far to back out now. I'm going to get that gold!"
"I'm with you," said the third gambler, whose name was Sim Sanders. "We three are more than a match for them."
On they galloped toward the camp, where Gabe in wonder awaited the arrival of the boys. He saw the men in pursuit, and knew who they were. Hobbling to where he had left his rifle, he secured the weapon.
Into the camp rushed Jed and Will, their tired horses barely able to carry them. After them came the three gamblers.
"What do you want here?" demanded Gabe.
"We want the gold those tenderfeet found, and we're going to have it even if we have to fight!" answered Morton savagely.
"Then you'll have to fight," replied Gabe grimly. "I don't know anything about any gold they have, for we haven't struck any luck yet, but if they have any they're going to keep it, and you know what kind of a man I am, when it comes to a fight."
"Ride 'em down!" exclaimed Haverhill.
Gabe was about to raise his rifle, when an unexpected diversion occurred.
There was heard a sound of galloping. Every one turned to see what it was, and then into the camp rode five horsemen, each one with a pack on the saddle before him, and a rifle in his hand. At the sight of the foremost rider Gabe cried:
"Ted! Ted Jordan! You're just in time! I'm hurt and these scoundrels are trying to rob us!"
"Whoop!" yelled Ted. "If it ain't my old partner, Gabe Harrison! Who's trying to rob you? Those chaps? Go for 'em, boys! Show 'em how the lads from Dizzy Gulch can handle a crowd of gamblers and thieves!"
But Morton and his cronies did not wait for this. Wheeling their horses, they rode back the way they had come, while to hasten their speed the members of Ted Jordan's party fired several shots over the heads of the scoundrels.
"Well! well!" exclaimed Ted, when quietness had been restored. "How in the world did you get here, Gabe?"
"Prospecting with these two lads," indicating Jed and Will. "But what takes you away from Dizzy Gulch?"
"Dizzy Gulch has petered out. It's no good. There was only outcropping gold, and that's all gone. So I made up a party, left the place, and we're prospecting. Have you had any luck?"
"Not much."
"But we have!" exclaimed Jed, as he pulled some of the nuggets from their hiding place, and showed them to the astonished miners.
"What! Where did you get those?" asked Gabe.
Jed and Will quickly explained, telling where their wonderful find was located. They also gave an account of the pursuit, and how they had, by great luck, managed to get on the trail that led back to camp. Gabe explained what had happened to him, and said that his leg was getting better every hour.
"I'm all right to travel now, if you go slow," he said.
"Travel? Travel where?" asked Ted Jordan.
"To where the boys made the lucky strike, of course. We'll all go there and stake out claims. If Dizzy Gulch is no good we've found something better."
They started off, not making especially fast progress on account of Gabe. They calculated to take two days in getting to the place, and they had no fear now that Con Morton's gang would interfere with them.
It was toward the evening of the first day, when as they were looking for a good place to camp, that Gabe Harrison remarked, as he looked up toward the sky:
"I think we're in for a bad storm."
"What makes you think so?" asked Ted Jordan.
"The way my leg hurts. It always hurts when there's a storm coming."
"It doesn't look so," remarked one of the men. "The sky's as pretty as a picture."
"You wait," said old Gabe, slowly shaking his head.
In spite of the fact that no one else took much stock in Gabe's prophecy, it was noticed that the camp was made more snug than usual, and the men looked well to the fastenings of their horses.
After supper, when they were all seated about the campfire, the men smoking and telling stories, to which the two boy gold miners listened eagerly, one of the men remarked:
"I believe it is going to blow up a little rain."
The evening sky was beginning to be overcast with clouds, and there was a moaning and sighing to the wind, as if it bemoaned the fact that the pleasant scene was so soon to be spoiled by a storm.
"Better look to our tent-ropes, boys," suggested Gabe, for he and the two lads from the farm bunked together in a small tent that had been brought along. "I don't want it blown away in the night, and have us all get soaking wet."
The darkness increased more rapidly, now that the sky was becoming thickly covered with clouds, and the wind grew stronger.
"Say, do you notice anything queer?" asked Jed of Will, as they stood together on a little jutting point of rock and looked over the valley spread out below them, a valley now shrouded in gloom.
"Something queer? How do you mean?"
"I mean like when your foot goes to sleep, and you try to walk on it."
"As if pins and needles were all over you?" asked Will.
"Yes, that's it."
"I did notice something like that," admitted his brother, "but I didn't think it was anything. It's growing worse, though."
"You're right, it is. Let's ask the men and old Gabe if they feel it. Why, it's just like an electric battery now."
The boys looked at each other curiously and in some alarm. They were both now conscious of a very peculiar sensation. Their flesh all over was tingling as if tiny needles were being brushed against them.
"Do you notice anything queer, Gabe?" asked Will.
"Queer!" exclaimed the miner. "I should say I did. It feels like ginger ale tastes."
"That's it," remarked one of the men. "I was wondering what was the matter with me."
The miners and the boys were ill at ease. There seemed to be something strange in the air about them—some unseen influence at work. They looked all around. The storm was evidently coming closer. The wind was now blowing quite a gale, and there were occasional mutterings of thunder.
"The horses feel it, too," observed Ted. "I don't like it here. I wish we'd kept on, or else stopped down below."
Hardly had he spoken than there came a vivid flash of lightning, followed an instant later by a startling clap of thunder. But it was not the lightning which caused every one in the camp to jump sharply. Nor was it the thunder.
"Did you feel that?" cried Jed.
"I should say I did," answered Will. "A regular electric shock, that's what it was. Felt as if I had hold of the business-end of a battery."
There came another flash of lightning, a far-off one, for the forked tongues of it shot down behind a distant, towering peak, but the effect on the little party of gold-seekers was even more pronounced than before. Gabe fairly leaped into the air, in spite of his injured leg.
"Tarantulas and centipedes!" he cried. "Something's the matter!"
"We're on top of a natural electric battery!" shouted Ted Jordan.
"No, we're not, but it's almost as bad," spoke one of the men. "I know what it is."
"What then?" cried several.
"We're on a part of the mountain that's filled with iron ore. The electricity is attracted to it, and we're getting shocks from it. I was in a place like this once before, out in Australia, and a lot of natives were killed during a storm. The iron ore acts just like a live wire."
"Then we'd better get off," said Will. "I don't want to be electrified any more."
"Move's the word, and we can't be any too quick," spoke Gabe.
There came another flash, and once more the gold-hunters felt the sensation of pins and needles. They noted, too, that the storm seemed coming more rapidly toward them.
"Up stakes and vamoose!" shouted one of the men, who had been living on a ranch. "Let's get away from here before it's too late."
"It'll be worse when the rain comes," stated the man who had explained about the iron ore causing the trouble. That his theory was right was admitted by all the miners, when they had examined the character of the ground on which they stood. They lost no time in breaking camp, and they had only gotten the tents down and re-arranged the packs on the horses, when the storm broke in a fury of wind and rain.
Fortunately, this outburst seemed to take the edge off the electrical outburst, and they were hoping they would escape without any more shocks. But it was a vain hope. When the ground was thoroughly wet there came such a sudden glare of lightning that it nearly blinded every one. The crash of thunder was not an instant in following, and such an electrical shock resulted that one of the men was knocked down. As for the horses, they were so frightened that it was with difficulty that they could be controlled.
"Hurry up!" cried Ted Jordan. "We're likely to be killed if we stay here. Hurry, every one!"
The man who had been knocked down arose with a curious look on his face. He ran at top speed until he came to a spot about five hundred yards from where the others were.
"It's all right here," he cried. "No iron ore here. You'll be safe when you get here."
They made all haste to join him, slipping, stumbling and leaping over the rough way. The rain was falling in torrents, and even the slight discharges of electricity that followed the one big flash set their flesh to tingling, and made them fear that worse was to follow.
But they got safely across that patch of ore, and were soon on neutral ground. There they tried to establish a camp, but it was hard work in the storm. The boys helped as best they could, and so did Gabe, but his leg pained him too much to allow him to do a great deal.
At length, however, something like order was brought out of chaos. It was out of the question to get tents up, so strong did the wind blow, but the men used the canvas to shelter them somewhat from the downpour. The horses were tethered to trees in the open.
"Look there!" cried Jed suddenly, pointing to the spot of ore which they had left. They all looked and beheld a curious sight. Right on the place where they had first camped the ground seemed covered with tiny blue and green spots. They leaped about here and there, and some seemed like tiny flames.
"It's the electricity," called the man who had explained about the effect of the lightning on the iron ore. "A connection has been made because of the rain, and that place is now charged like a battery. It's a good thing we got away from there."
They all congratulated themselves on this score, and watched with curiosity, not unmixed with fear, the curious play of the lightning and the tiny flames seeming to come up from the earth.
The rain kept up for an hour more, and then ceased. By that time it was impossible to light a fire, so they had to eat cold victuals; but they did manage to get up the tents, though it was as bad inside them as it was out, for they were soaking wet.
But they all accepted it as part of the game they were playing, and as part of the price they had to pay for gold. The night seemed as if it would never end, but morning came at last, and with the advent of daylight every one felt better. The old miners knew how to get dry wood from the inside of hollow logs, and soon, over cups of steaming coffee, the terrors and discomforts of the night were forgotten.
"Forward!" cried Gabe when breakfast was over and the packs adjusted. "Now for the place of the nuggets. You boys will have to show us the way soon."
"We can do that, all right," declared Jed. "We'll show you where we hid the nuggets."
They traveled on all the rest of that day. Jed and Will were able to direct the men along the same trail they had taken in retreating from Con Morton and his gang. As they advanced the various landmarks were pointed out by the lads.
"We're 'most there now," said Will as they turned around a shoulder of the mountain and set off at right angles to the way they had been going. "We'll be there in half an hour now."
"Just in time to dig out about a thousand dollars' worth of the yellow boys and have grub," remarked Ted Jordan. "Well, it can't happen any too soon for me, boys. I've been down on my luck lately, and I need a change."
They pressed on more eagerly, the two boys in the lead, as they alone knew where the secret spot was.
"Here's the place!" cried Will at length.
"No, it isn't," declared Jed. "It's farther on."
"It's here," insisted Will. "Don't you remember this big rock? I said at the time that the nuggets were about five hundred feet from it."
"Which way?" asked Gabe quickly. "That's important to know."
"Right in line with that dead tree," answered Will. "I'll show you."
He walked confidently to the spot.
"Yes, that's it," spoke Jed, convinced that his brother was right.
Will began to dig, while the men gathered about him, with eager eyes watching him. It meant a lot to them, for some of them were down to their last dollar, and a rich strike would prove a fortune to them.
"Did we put 'em as deep as that?" asked Jed, when Will had removed considerable dirt and had not come upon any of the precious yellow nuggets.
"Must have, but I don't remember that we went very deep."
"Let me have a try," suggested Ted. "I'll soon turn 'em out."
He took the pick from Will and began to dig. He went quite deeply into the ground, and turned it up for some distance in a circle. But there were no nuggets.
"They're—they're gone!" gasped Will at length.
"Somebody's taken them! Morton and his gang!" came from Jed. "He saw where we hid them!"
"He couldn't," insisted Will.
"Are you sure this is the place?" asked Gabe anxiously. "Take a good look, boys."
Much depended on the two young gold-hunters. The men gazed at them anxiously.
"I'm sure that's the rock," said Will. "Aren't you, Jed?"
"It certainly looks like it."
"Is that the only mark you went by when you uncovered and then hid the nuggets?" went on the old miner. "Now, think carefully."
"No, there was another stone near the big rock," said Jed suddenly. "I remember now. It looked like a man's face. I thought at the time that it looked like Con Morton. There were two rocks close together, a big one and a little one."
"Where's the little one?" asked Gabe.
"It's gone."
"Maybe it's the big one that's gone," suggested the old miner.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean maybe the big stone got displaced by reason of the storm last night. It might have rolled several hundred feet out of the way. In that case you'd be all out of your calculations. Suppose you look for the little rock?"
"That's it!" cried Jed. "I thought this place didn't look just right. It's farther up."
They ran up the trail a little way, and Jed gave a shout of delight.
"There's the little rock!" he cried. "Now for the nuggets!"
They knew just where to dig now, and five minutes later Jed and Will had uncovered their store of gold. Such a shout as went up from the men, old Gabe joining in!
"We've struck a bonanza!" cried Ted.
And so they had; for when they came to stake out their claims, they found the indications were of such richness that the mines bid fair to be regular bonanzas. At Gabe's suggestion they formed a sort of company, taking in the men who had come with Ted at such an opportune time. Because they were the discoverers of the gold mine, Jed and Will were given larger shares than any of the others, though there was enough for all.
"Now we must write and tell dad of our good luck," proposed Jed one night, in the new camp that had been formed near the place where the nuggets were found.
"And I'll mail the letter," promised Ted. "I've got to ride to the town to-morrow."
While Jed and his brother were having such exciting times in the West, matters at the Crosby farm were going along in their usual slow fashion.
The first few days after Jed and Will, in company with Gabe Harrison, had departed, Mrs. Crosby and her daughter Nettie were very lonesome.
"It does seem just as if I'd never see my boys again," said the mother, wiping away some tears gathered in her eyes.
"You mustn't think that way, ma," said Nettie. "First thing you know they'll come back as rich—well, rich enough to have an automobile, maybe."
"I'm afraid not. I haven't much faith in this gold-mining scheme, though I believe Mr. Harrison meant all right. I wish the boys had stuck to farming."
"But, mother, they could hardly make a living at it. Look at father, how hard he has to work, and how little we can save."
"I know it, but it's sure. We have our hens, and we get some eggs. We can go out in the garden and dig potatoes, and we have fruit."
"Yes, but we can't live on eggs, potatoes and fruit," objected Nettie with a laugh. "Now, don't worry, mother. I'm sure the boys will make out all right, though it may take some time. It will be a month before they are in the gold region. I hope they send me some souvenir postals."
"Do they have souvenir postals out in the mines?"
"I guess so, mother. They have 'em most every place, and I've got quite a collection."
Mrs. Crosby eagerly watched the mails for the next few days, and she was rewarded by receiving brief notes from the boys, written on their route, telling of the incidents of the way.
As for Mr. Crosby, he was so busy preparing for winter and arranging to pay the interest on the mortgage, that he gave little thought, at first, to the two young gold miners. Of course, he was interested in them, and he hoped for their success, but he was worried about how he would get along without their help on the farm, though most of the fall work was done.
The money received from the barley crop, together with some from the sale of other farm products, was, after part had been taken out for the boys' outfits, placed in the bank at Rossmore, which was the nearest large town to Lockport. Mr. Crosby wanted to keep the cash there until he had enough to meet the payment of interest on the mortgage, which would be due in a few weeks.
He had not quite enough, and he did not see how he was going to complete the sum in time, but he trusted the man who held the mortgage would wait for the balance. He determined, however, to make it up if he could, and, for that reason, he was busier than usual, gathering in all the products he could afford to sell off.
"You look worried, Enos," remarked Mrs. Crosby one evening, when her husband came in from the village. "Has anything happened?"
"Nothing special. I saw Jimson this afternoon."
"The man who holds the mortgage on this place?"
"Yes. I told him I was afraid I'd be a few dollars short in the interest, and I asked him if he'd wait a few weeks."
"What did he say?"
"He said he wouldn't. Told me I had to have it all or he'd foreclose."
"And take the farm away from us?"
"That's what it would mean. He's been wanting it ever since he heard what a fine barley crop I raised."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know. I've tried my best to get the whole sum together, but I don't see how I can rake up another dollar. We have to live, and I can't touch the money I have put away for winter."
"Maybe we could get along on less than usual," suggested Mrs. Crosby.
"No, it's little enough as it is. I've calculated very closely, and the sum I have saved for winter is barely enough as it is. If anything happens, or one of us gets sick, there'll not be enough. I was thinking I might get something to do in the village, or over in Rossmore, but I can't leave you and Nettie here alone to look after the farm. I might sell the horse, but it would not bring much now. Nobody wants to keep a horse through the winter. I declare, I don't know what to do. Prospects are pretty dismal."
"If we had the boys home now, maybe they could get work somewhere, and help out."
"No, on the whole I'm glad the boys have gone out West. Their gold hunting may not amount to much—likely it won't—but it will be a good thing for them. They needed a little change from the drudgery of always working on a farm. Of course, if they were here they'd help, but they're not, and I'll not wish them back before they've had a fair chance, though I'd like to see them, for I miss them considerably."
"So do I," added his wife.
"And I wish they were home," added Nettie. "I haven't had a good game of checkers since Will went away."
"I reckon they've got other things besides checkers to think about now," said her father.
Two or three weeks passed. Mr. Crosby did his best to raise the additional money needed toward the interest on the mortgage, and as a last resort he had to sell his mowing machine. How he would get along the following summer, without it, he did not know, but he hoped better times would come. At any rate it was imperative that he have the interest, or he might lose his farm.
It was coming on cool weather. The last of the crops had been gathered in, though in this work the farmer sadly missed the help of his two sturdy boys.
One frosty morning, he got up early to go out and feed the pigs, on which he depended for his own pork, and which he hoped he would have enough of to sell at a profit. There was a curious silence in the pen, for, usually, the porkers were squealing from the first show of daylight until they received their breakfast.
"That's rather queer," said Mr. Crosby to himself, as he neared the pig-pen, with a pail of warm sour milk, which the porkers usually got first. "I wonder why they aren't squealing their heads off as they always are?"
When he got to the pen he saw the cause for the silence. Stretched out on the ground were six fine pigs, all dead.
"Well, if this isn't hard luck!" exclaimed the farmer, setting down the pail he had carried out. "And I counted on them to help us through the winter!"
He got over into the pen. There was no doubt about it. The pigs were dead, and valueless, as far as any use he could make of them was concerned.
He called in a neighbor, who knew something of animals, and this man said the pigs had probably eaten something that had not agreed with them, as there were no signs that they had been hurt. This view was generally accepted, when it became known what misfortune had visited Mr. Crosby, though no one could tell what had caused the death of the animals.
"Another heavy loss," mused Mr. Crosby that afternoon, as he got up from the dinner table. "I declare, I don't know what's going to happen! I've got the interest money, but I'm afraid I'll have to use part of that to live on, now that we won't have any pork to put away for the winter."
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby, "troubles never come singly! We certainly are in hard luck, Enos."
"That's right," he admitted gloomily. "I don't know what to do. But there, Debby," he added, as he saw how badly his wife felt. "We'll make out somehow. We always have. I can let the interest go, and we can sell out the farm."
"No, don't do that," exclaimed his wife quickly. "We must hold on to that. It's the only way we can make a living. I don't know anything except farming, and you don't either."
"That's right, unless I could learn gold mining," admitted Mr. Crosby with a sad smile. "But we'll get along somehow."
How he didn't know, but he knew he must not let his wife worry, as she was not strong, and had only recently gotten over a severe illness.
"Maybe I could help you, papa," spoke Nettie, who had listened with some worriment to the talk of her parents.
"You, my dear girl? How could you help us?"
"Why, I hear they want girls to work at the machines in the mill over at Rossmore."
"I'll never consent to let you go there," said her father. "We'll sell the farm first. Not that there's anything wrong about a girl working in a mill, but I want you to get a good education. No, Nettie, I'll find a way, somehow."
"Whoa!" exclaimed a voice out in the driveway, and, looking out, the farmer saw a man in a carriage.
"Are you there, Mr. Crosby?" the man called.
"Oh, yes! How d'ye do, Mr. Jimson?" replied the farmer, as he recognized the man who held the mortgage on the farm. "I see you've come for the interest."
"Yes. I hope you have it ready."
"Yes, it's all together. But I guess I'll have to ask you to drive me over to the bank in Rossmore. My pigs all died this morning, and I was so put out I didn't get a chance to go over. The money's there in the bank."
"Is your interest money in the bank at Rossmore?" asked Mr. Jimson, in a curious voice.
"Yes. Why?"
"That bank failed yesterday," was the startling answer. "The depositors won't get a cent!"
Hardly able to believe what he heard, Mr. Crosby stared at his informant.
"Wha—what's that you said?" he asked.
"I said the bank at Rossmore failed yesterday, and that none of the depositors will get a cent. If you had your money there it's all gone."
"Gone! Failed! I—I don't understand."
"Well, it's just as I'm telling you. The cashier skipped off with the money."
"With my money?"
"With everybody's money. But I got ahead of them. I heard the bank was shaky and I drew out every cent I had there a couple of days ago. You see, the cashier took the cash about a week back, but he concealed his theft. Then, when the bank officials discovered it, they kept it quiet for a time, hoping to make it up. But, it seems, one of the vice-presidents was in with the cashier, and what the fellow didn't steal the vice-president had used in bad speculations, so the bank's wrecked."
"And my money's gone," repeated Mr. Crosby, in a dazed voice.
"I'm afraid so."
"What's happened? What's the matter, Enos?" asked Mrs. Crosby, who came out on the porch where Mr. Jimson was. She had not heard all he said, but she gathered that there was some trouble.
"We're ruined, Debby!" exclaimed the farmer. "All our money in the bank is gone!"
"Gone?"
"Yes, the bank has failed. I'm sorry, Mr. Jimson, but I can't pay you the interest," went on Mr. Crosby. "I intended going to Rossmore to-day to get it for you. Now I can't."
"I don't know about that," replied the holder of the mortgage on the Crosby farm. "I don't see what the failure of the bank has to do with you not paying me my interest."
"Why, I can't pay it if there isn't any money in the bank."
"I have nothing to do with that. I loaned you a certain sum on this farm. You signed a paper agreeing to pay me my interest at a certain time. That time has come and I want my money."
"But I can't pay you if the bank has failed."
"I tell you that has nothing to do with me!" exclaimed Mr. Jimson angrily. "I want my money—that's all. How am I to know you had the interest in the bank?"
"But I tell you I did!"
"Humph! A man's word isn't good for much nowadays. I want my interest, and I intend to have it."
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Jimson," said Mr. Crosby in a strained voice, "but I haven't got it."
"Then you'll have to get it. Take it from some other bank."
"Do I look like a man who had money in two banks?" demanded the poor farmer. "I guess not! It takes all I can rake and scrape to make a living and pay the interest. I put the money for the mortgage in the bank where it would be safe. I didn't know the bank would fail."
"Well, you'll have to get it somewhere," went on the mortgage holder. "Sell some of your things, or—or something."
"I haven't much left to sell—unless I sell myself, and I'm pretty much of a slave the way it is."
"Huh! Any man who can afford to send his sons out West on a pleasure trip ought to have the money to pay his interest," retorted Mr. Jimson.
"My sons did not go on a pleasure trip," answered Mr. Crosby. "They went to hunt for gold."
"And a mighty foolish excursion it was, too. Why didn't you send them to hunt for the fairy bag of gold at the foot of the rainbow? There would have been about as much sense in it."
"They went with an experienced miner, Mr. Jimson. Besides, my boys had earned a vacation."
"Oh, they had, eh? Then why don't they send back some gold nuggets? Why don't they pay the interest?"
"They would if they could. Can't you wait a few weeks? I may be able to get it together again. Or the officers may catch that cashier and get some of the money back."
"I'll not wait one day. As for catching that cashier, I don't believe they'll do it. The money is gone. You know what the agreement is in the mortgage. Either you pay up my interest the day it is due, or take the consequences."
"And what are the consequences?" asked Mrs. Crosby, who had been an anxious listener to this conversation.
"The farm will be sold," replied Mr. Jimson. "That is my right and privilege. All I get above the amount of the mortgage and the sheriff's fee will go to you, of course, but I don't imagine it will be much. Now I haven't any time to stand here talking to you. Have you my interest? Yes or no. To-day is the day it's due."
"I'm sorry, but I haven't got it," replied Mr. Crosby.
"All right; then I'll instruct the sheriff to sell the farm."
"Oh, you wouldn't do that, would you?" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby.
"Of course I will. Why not? That's business. I don't lend money for fun. You'd better get ready to move. Maybe you can go out West and dig gold." And with that mean reminder Mr. Jimson drove off.
The misfortune was such a terrible one that at first the Crosby family could hardly realize it. They were stunned. But it was not long before they awoke to a realization of what it meant.
Mr. Crosby tried in vain to raise the money, so unexpectedly lost, to pay the interest. He could borrow from no one, as he had nothing he could offer as security. He had a small sum put away for the needs of the winter, but this he knew it would be unsafe to touch.
So a few days after the visit of Mr. Jimson, notices were put up on the house, barn and other buildings of the farm, stating that they would be sold at public auction, under foreclosure proceedings, because the interest on the mortgage was unpaid.
And some time later that sad event happened. Quite a crowd of farmers gathered at the Crosby farm to bid on it. It was a good piece of land, but times were dull, and when all expenses had been met, including the mortgage, interest and sheriff's fees, there was only a few hundred dollars left for Mr. Crosby, his wife and daughter. Most of their possessions had been sold, as a chattel mortgage had been given as a last resort to raise the cash for the interest.
"And this is what I have left after twenty years of hard work," said Mr. Crosby sadly when the auction was over and he had received the few hundred dollars.
"Well, what are we going to do now?" asked Mrs. Crosby as a little later she, with her husband and daughter, sat in their desolate home.
"We've got to do something," replied Mr. Crosby. "I've got to make a new start, I suppose, and it comes hard at my time of life."
"Let me help, daddy," said Nettie, putting her arm around her father's neck. "I heard of a good place in the woolen mill. I can earn four dollars a week."
"Not while I have health and strength," replied Mr. Crosby. "We'll manage to make out somehow," he added more cheerfully, for now that the worst had happened, he was ready to face anything.
"The boys ought to know about this," said Mrs. Crosby. "Maybe they have found a gold mine and can help us."
"Not much chance of that," responded her husband. "But I would like to hear from them. We haven't had a letter since they got to the mountains, and the last time they wrote they were about to start for Dizzy Gulch. We can't expect any help from them, but perhaps they will want to come back, now that we have lost our farm. Probably we three can get work on some place—enough to earn a living, anyhow."
"It will seem strange to be working for some one else, when you have had your own farm so many years," said Mrs. Crosby.
"A man's farm isn't very much his when there's a mortgage on it. Never again will I try to live under such conditions. Why, I feel almost happy, now that I know there is no interest to meet. We will go somewhere else and begin life over again."
"Yes, and we've got to go somewhere to-night," added Nettie with a laugh, the first real one since their misfortune. "We have no beds here—nearly everything was sold. What are we going to do, daddy—sleep in the barn, in the hay? Do you suppose the sheriff would let us?"
"No need for that," replied her father. "We'll go to the hotel to-night. In the morning I will consider matters, and decide what is best to do. But I think I'll write a letter to the boys and tell them the bad news as gently as possible. Have you their address, Nettie?"
"Yes, father, but I imagine they must be in the mountains now."
"Well, mail will probably be forwarded. I'll ask them if they made out any worse with their gold hunting than I did with my farming."
But though he made light of it, Mr. Crosby was a man broken in spirit. Through no fault of his own he found himself, in the decline of life, with hardly enough to live on half a year, and no prospects of anything better. Still he did not despair.
The little family went to the village hotel that evening. Many of their neighbors, who sympathized with them, invited them to share their homes, but Mr. Crosby thought it would be less embarrassing for his wife and daughter if they went to the hotel.
It was on the way there that Mr. Hayson, the village postmaster, stopped Mr. Crosby on the street.
"Sorry to hear of your bad luck," he said.
"It might have been worse," replied Mr. Crosby.
"Yes, but not much. I was on my way over to your place. I got a special-delivery letter for you, but as I didn't have anybody I could send with it, and as you didn't call, I had to keep it until I closed the office up. Here it is," and he drew from his pocket a rather soiled envelope with a blue stamp thereon.
"Must have come a good way," remarked the postmaster. "I couldn't make out where, the marks were so blurred."
"Why, it's Jed's writing!" exclaimed Mr. Crosby.
"Jed? Your son?"
"Yes. He and his brother are in the West looking for gold, but I don't suppose they'll find any."
Mr. Crosby opened the letter and rapidly read it. As he did so the expression on his face changed. The look of care seemed to disappear, and his eyes brightened.
"Looks as if it was good news," observed Mr. Hayson, who was an old acquaintance.
"It is. Read that."
Mr. Hayson rapidly glanced down the page. Some of the news which Jed wrote was unimportant, but this much seemed to stand out in bold relief:
"We have struck a bonanza! One of the richest mines in the West! Will and I are rich! Sell out and come on. We have staked claims for the whole family!"Jed."
"We have struck a bonanza! One of the richest mines in the West! Will and I are rich! Sell out and come on. We have staked claims for the whole family!
"Jed."
"Well, of all things! Who'd have believed it! A bonanza! Gold mines! Them boys rich!" exclaimed Mr. Hayson. "What are you going to do, neighbor Crosby?"
"Do? Why, I'm going out there as fast as a train can take me. Sell out! I don't have to wait to sell out. I'm sold out already. But I must hurry and tell my wife and daughter. This is the best news I've had in many a year. The boys have struck it rich. Things looked pretty black a little while ago, but this welcome letter has changed everything. God bless Gabe Harrison! I guess he must have had a hand in this."
Three weeks later, when Mr. Crosby, his wife and daughter reached the new diggings where Jed, Will and the old miner were, they learned all the details of the wonderful strike.
For the mine, or rather mines, as there were several of them, were indeed bonanzas. The good luck of Jed and Will, which began when they found the nuggets, continued, and every claim staked out was a rich one.
A regular gold-mining company was formed, taking over the temporary one started by Jed and the other miners, and the Crosby family were the principal holders of the stock. Machinery was installed, and at last accounts the concern was paying better than ever.
One day Gabe, who made his home with the Crosby family, came in looking quite pleased over something.
"What's the matter?" asked Jed. "Have you found some more nuggets?"
"No, but almost as good. That gambler, Con Morton, has been arrested, and I understand I am likely to get back most of the property out of which he swindled me."
A few weeks later this occurred, and though Gabe did not regain all of his fortune, he had enough to live on in comfort. Morton was sentenced to a long term in prison. His two cronies disappeared, and were never heard of in that region again.
As for Jed and Will, those plucky lads who graduated from a farm to a gold claim, they are now among the most prosperous and best known miners of the West, and if you are ever out that way I advise you to call on them. Perhaps they will show you where to pick up a small nugget or two as a souvenir of your visit.
Mr. Webster's style is very much like that of the boys' favorite author, the late lamented Horatio Alger, Jr., but his tales are thoroughly up-to-date.
Mr. Webster's style is very much like that of the boys' favorite author, the late lamented Horatio Alger, Jr., but his tales are thoroughly up-to-date.
Only A Farm Boyor Dan Hardy's Rise in Life
The Boy From The Ranchor Roy Bradner's City Experiences
The Young Treasure Hunteror Fred Stanley's Trip to Alaska
The Boy Pilot of the Lakesor Nat Morton's Perils
Tom The Telephone Boyor The Mystery of a Message
Bob The Castawayor The Wreck of the Eagle
The Newsboy Partnersor Who Was Dick Box?
Two Boy Gold Minersor Lost in the Mountains
The Young Firemen of Lakevillaor Herbert Dare's Pluck
The Boys of Bellwood Schoolor Frank Jordan's Triumph
Jack the Runawayor On the Road with a Circus
Bob Chester's Gritor From Ranch to Riches
Airship Andyor The Luck of a Brave Boy
High School Rivalsor Fred Markham's Struggles
Darry The Life Saveror The Heroes of the Coast
Dick The Bank Boyor A Missing Fortune
Ben Hardy's Flying Machineor Making a Record for Himself
Harry Watson's High School Daysor The Rivals of Rivertown
Comrades of the Saddleor The Young Rough Riders of the Plains
Tom Taylor at West Pointor The Old Army Officer's Secret
The Boy Scouts of Lennoxor Hiking Over Big Bear Mountain
The Boys of the Wirelessor a Stirring Rescue from the Deep
Cowboy Daveor The Round-up at Rolling River
Jack of the Pony Expressor The Young Rider of the Mountain Trail
The Boys of the Battleshipor For the Honor of Uncle Sam
Mr. Chadwick has played on the diamond and on the gridiron himself.
Mr. Chadwick has played on the diamond and on the gridiron himself.
A Story of College Baseball
Tom Parsons, a "hayseed," makes good on the scrub team of Randall College.
A Story of College Football
A football story, told in Mr. Chadwick's best style, that is bound to grip the reader from the start.
A Story of College Baseball
Tom Parsons and his friends Phil and Sid are the leading players on Randall College team. There is a great game.
A Story of College Football
After having to reorganize their team at the last moment, Randall makes a touchdown that won a big game.
A Story of College Athletics
The winning of the hurdle race and long-distance run is extremely exciting.
A Story of College Water Sports
Tom, Phil and Sid prove as good at aquatic sports as they are on track, gridiron and diamond.