CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.
Having made all necessary preparations, Ferguson and Tom set out ontheir way. They took a course differing somewhat from that chosen byJohn Miles, one object being to survey the country, and find, ifpossible, a suitable place for continuing their search for gold. Aftertheir three months' steady work both of our travellers were prepared toenjoy the journey. Their road was difficult at times, from itssteepness, and more than once they found it necessary, out ofconsideration for the horse, to get out and walk. But this only added tothe romantic charm of the trip.
"It's like a constant picnic," said Tom. "I should like to travel thisway for a year, if I did not feel the need of working."
"We might tire of it after a while," suggested Ferguson,--"in the rainyseason, for example."
"That would not be so pleasant, to be sure," Tom admitted. "Do you havesuch fine scenery in Scotland, Mr. Ferguson?"
"Our mountains are not so high, my lad, nor our trees so gigantic; butit's the associations that make them interesting. Every hill has alegend connected with it, and our great novelist, Walter Scott, hasinvested them with a charm that draws pilgrims from all parts of theworld to see them. Now this is a new country--beautiful, I grant, butwithout a history. Look around you, and you will see nothing to remindyou of man. It is nature on a grand scale, I admit, but the soul iswanting."
"I like mountains," said Tom, thoughtfully. "There is something grandabout them."
"There are some famous mountains in your native State, New Hampshire,are there not, Tom?"
"Yes; but I have only seen them from a distance. They are not abovethirty miles away from where I was born; but poor people don't travel insearch of scenery, Mr. Ferguson."
"No, my lad, and there's another thing I have noticed. We don't caremuch for the curiosities that are near us. The people about here, ifthere are any settled inhabitants, care nothing about the mountains, Idoubt."
"That is true. In our village at home there is an old man nearly eightyyears old who has never visited the mountains, though he has lived nearthem all his life."
"I can well believe it, my lad. But what is that?"
The sound which elicited this exclamation was a loud "Hollo!" evidentlyproceeding from some one in their rear.
Both Tom and the Scotchman turned, and their eyes rested on a horsemanevidently spurring forward to overtake them. Tom, who was driving,reined in the horse, and brought him to a stop. The horseman was sooneven with them.
He was evidently a Yankee. All Yankees do not carry about with them anunmistakable certificate of their origin, but Ebenezer Onthank was atypical New Englander. His face was long and thin, his expression shrewdand good-natured, his limbs were long and ungainly. In later life, withthe addition of forty or fifty pounds of flesh, he would be muchimproved in appearance.
"Good-morning, gentlemen," said he. "It seems kinder good to see a humanface again. It ain't very populous round here, is it?"
"We haven't seen any large towns," said Tom, smiling.
"Where are you steerin'?" inquired the Yankee. "I'm expectin' to fetchup at San Francisco some time, if I don't get lost in the woods."
"That is our destination, my friend," returned Ferguson.
"Would you mind my joining your party?" asked Onthank. "It's lonesometravelin' by one's self without a soul to speak to."
"We shall be glad of your company," said the Scotchman, sincerely, for,though naturally cautious, he could not suspect the new-comer ofanything which would make him an undesirable companion.
"Perhaps you'd like to know who I am," said the new acquaintance. "Myname is Ebenezer Onthank, from Green Mountain Mills, in Vermont. Myfather is deacon of the Baptist Church at home."
"I suppose you will take his place when you get older," said Tom,gravely.
"No, I guess not. I wonder what Susan Jones would say to my bein' adeacon!" and Ebenezer burst into a loud laugh.
"Is Miss Jones a particular friend of yours?" asked Tom, slyly.
"I should say she was. Why, I expect to marry her when I get home."
"I congratulate you."
"Don't be too fast. We ain't hitched yet. Say, boy, where do you comefrom?"
"From Vernon, in New Hampshire."
"You don't say! Why, that ain't more'n fifty miles from Green MountainMills; cu'rus we should meet so fur away from hum, ain't it? When didyou start?"
"Seven or eight months ago."
"I've been in California six months. Does that gentleman come from yourtown?"
"My friend," answered the Scotchman, not without a touch of pride, "I amnot an American; I am from the Highlands of Scotland."
"You be? Sho! Well, of course you can't help that."
"Help it, sir? I am proud of hailing from the land of Scott and Burns."
"Well, I guess it's a pretty nice sort of country," said Mr. Onthank,patronizingly. "I guess you'll like America best, though."
"I am by no means sure of that, my friend," said Ferguson, a littlenettled. "America's all very well, but--"
"Why, you could put Scotland into its waist-coat pocket, and there'd beplenty of room left," said Ebenezer, energetically.
"I admit that, as regards size, Scotland cannot compare with thiscountry."
"Say, have you got mountains as high as them, or trees as high as that?"pointing to a gigantic redwood.
"No; but size is not everything."
"That's so. Vermont is a little State, but she's smart, I tell you. Butyou haven't told me your names yet."
"I am called Donald Ferguson, Mr. Onthank. My young friend here answersto the name of Thomas Nelson."
"Commonly called Tom," added our hero, smiling.
"Why, I've got a brother Tom," said Mr. Onthank. "Cu'rus, isn't it?"
Considering that Tom is by no means an uncommon name, it could hardly becalled very remarkable, but Tom politely assented.
"Is he older than I am?" he inquired.
"Yes, my brother Tom is twenty-one years old. I expect he voted at thelast town-meeting. I'm four years older than Tom."
"Have you been fortunate so far in California, Mr. Onthank?"
"Can't say I have. I guess I've wandered round too much. Been a sort ofrollin' stone; and my granny used to say that a rollin' stone gathers nomoss. I've got about enough money to get me to San Francisco, and I ownthis animal; but I haven't made a fortune yet. What luck have you twohad?"
"Pretty fair, but it will take a good while to make our fortunes. We ownthis team, and that's about all we do own."
"A sort of an express wagon, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Ain't goin' into the express business, be you?"
"Probably not. We bought it on speculation."
"That reminds me of old Sam Bailey in our town. He was always tradin'horses. Sometimes he made money, and then again he didn't. How much didyou give?"
Tom told him.
"That was a pretty stiff price, wasn't it?"
"It would be considered so at home, but we hope to get a good deal more,when we come to sell it."
Their new friend kept on with them, amusing them with his homelysayings, and original views of things. His conversation beguiled thetedium of the journey, so that all were surprised when the shadowsdeepened, and supper-time came. Selecting a favorable place theyencamped for the night.
The Young Miner; Or, Tom Nelson in California Page 14
