CHAPTER VI
THE GOLD STRIKE
"You can't save that cow, Mr. Crosby!" cried Gabe Harrison. "Come on,boys, get pails and we'll see if we can't put out the fire! Where'sthere a well or a cistern?"
"Right over this way," replied Jed.
"More trouble!" exclaimed Mr. Crosby bitterly, as he saw his propertybeing consumed by the flames, and thought of the dead cow.
Soon the two boys and the old miner had secured buckets and were dashingwater on the flames. They might have saved themselves the trouble,however, for there came such a deluge of rain a few minutes later thatthe fire was extinguished.
"Well, I guess we can't do any more good out here," observed Mr.Harrison.
"No, nothing more can burn in this storm," added Will. "Lucky it didn'tstrike the barn."
"That's so," agreed Jed. "This is as close as I want lightning to cometo me."
"It's too bad about your cow, friend Crosby," spoke the miner, as thefour splashed through the water and mud back to the house.
"Indeed it is," admitted the farmer. "She was a valuable animal, andsupplied us with all our milk and butter. Now I'll have to buy a newone, and I don't see where I'm going to get the money these hard times."
The boys felt their father's loss keenly, and they wished they could dosomething to aid him. When they reached the house they found Mrs. Crosbyon the verge of hysterics, with her daughter vainly trying to quiet her.
"Some one is killed! I know there is!" exclaimed the nervous woman. "I'msure some one is killed!"
"Only the cow, mother," replied Jed. "It might have been worse. We stillhave the pigs left. They seemed to like this rain, for they're out inthe open part of their pen, getting a good soaking."
"Oh, Jed! How can you joke at such a serious time as this?" askedNettie, reproachfully.
"Might as well joke as cry," answered her brother.
"That's the right view to take of it," put in old Gabe. "Always look onthe bright side of things. Of course, it's too bad to lose a valuablecow, but it might have been worse. I had a partner prospecting with meonce. He got careless with some dynamite, and it blowed our shanty topieces. We had narrow escapes. But do you think my partner worried overit? Not a bit. He said he was thinking of building a new shanty, anyhow,and the dynamite blast saved him the trouble of tearing the old onedown."
"That must be a dreadful country, out in the mining region," remarkedMrs. Crosby, who had somewhat recovered her composure.
"Oh, it's no worse than lots of other places, ma'am. If a man, or a boyeither, for that matter, behaves himself and minds his own business,he'll get along all right. I wish I was back there, that's what I do.But listen to that rain! It's a regular cloudburst. I guess you'll getall you want, Mr. Crosby."
"Yes, the rain will do all sorts of good."
"That'll make up for the cow, dad," put in Jed, determined to look onthe less gloomy side. "Then we can sell the hide to the butcher, so itwon't be a total loss."
But when, a day or so later, the dead cow was sold for the hide, only asmall sum was realized. As Mr. Crosby could not afford money for anotheranimal, the family had to buy milk and butter of a neighbor.
Gabe Harrison remained at the farm, for there was plenty of work to do,as, following the rain, a big crop of weeds sprang up, and had to behoed down. This labor the old miner could do very well, and for a weekMr. Crosby, his two sons, and Mr. Harrison were kept very busy.
But even the rain could not make up for the long dry spell, and it didnot need a very expert farmer to see that only about three-quarters ofthe usual crop could be harvested from the Crosby place.
"I'm afraid we're going to have a hard time this winter," remarked thefarmer to his wife one night, after the others had gone to bed. "Pork isgoing to be high, and so is feed, as there was a short crop of hay, andthe horses eat an awful lot."
"It's too bad. What can we do?"
"I don't know, Debby. Sometimes I'm tempted to sell out and go to someother place."
"Where do you mean?"
"Well, down South or farther West. I've been struggling along forseveral years now, working hard, and barely making a living. I can't geta dollar ahead, try with all my might."
"Yes, you do work terribly hard, Enos. I wish you didn't have to."
"Oh, I don't mind the work. It's the lack of returns that I'mdissatisfied with. You work hard for that matter, and so do the boys."
"And Nettie does her share. Poor girl, she wants a new dress very muchto wear to the Sunday-school picnic next week."
"I wish I could get it for her, but I don't see how I can. Money isdreadfully scarce, and I can't borrow any more. I suppose I could sellone of the pigs----"
"No, I wouldn't think of that," objected his wife. "We'll need them forpork this winter. Nothing like pork to see you through a hard winter.Nettie will have to wear the old dress. Maybe I can turn it again,though the land knows I've done that twice already. But she'll notcomplain."
"No, she's a good girl, and my boys are good boys. If they don't haveall that lads of their age should, they don't make long faces over it.Maybe times will be better soon."
"Are you going to keep Mr. Harrison much longer?"
"No. I think I'll have to let him go next week. I need his help, but Ican't afford to pay him. He works for less than a younger man would, andhe does almost as much. But the boys and I will have to get along asbest we can."
Though the dry spell was broken there came other troubles for Mr.Crosby. Some of the corn became affected with a fungous disease called"smut," and part of that crop was worthless. The potatoes too began torot in the ground, and things looked very gloomy indeed. Mr. Harrisontook his dismissal good-naturedly. He said he expected to travel on,anyhow, and he was not particular where he stayed.
The week he was to leave, things were rather dull on the farm. All thework it was possible to do had been attended to, and it was onlynecessary to wait for the maturing of the various crops beforeharvesting them.
There was one spot of brightness in all this gloom. A big field ofbarley, which Mr. Crosby had not thought would amount to much, turnedout a much larger crop than he expected. Then there happened to be ashort supply of that particular grain in that section of the country,and the price went up, unexpectedly.
"Maybe things won't be so bad, after all," said the farmer, on hearingthis news. "I was to the city to-day, and I had an offer from a bigdealer for my barley. I was about to take it when another man offered memuch more. This shows there is going to be a big demand for it, and I'mgoing to hold on to mine. If I can get a little more per bushel than thelast offer, it will see me through the winter nicely, and leave a bitover."
"Well, that certainly is good news," said Mr. Harrison. "I'm glad Iheard it before I left, for I'll be thinking of you people often thiswinter."
"Oh, I almost forgot about it," spoke Mr. Crosby. "I stopped at thepost-office on my way home, and here's a letter for you."
"For me?" inquired the old miner in some surprise. "I wonder who can bewriting to me?"
"The best way is to open it and then you can tell," said Jed, with asmile.
"Oh, I know now. It's from Ted Jordan. I know his writing. It's like ahen that stepped in an ink bottle and then tried to do a dance. Wonderwhat he's writing to me for from away out in Montana?"
He tore open the envelope.
"How did he know your address?" asked Will.
"Oh, I sent him one of them souvenir postcards as soon as I got here. Idone it more for a joke. Sent him one with a picture of a farmer on it,and told him I'd gone to tilling land for a living. But let's see whathe says I'll read you the letter. Guess there's nothing very private init, and Ted is a jolly chap.
"'Dear Gabe,'" read the old miner. "'Sorry to hear you got so down onyour luck you had to turn farmer. Your picture don't look a bit likeyou, but I suppose the crows have been picking at you. Say, I have greatnews for you. Old Sim Butterfield, the fellow that had one ear bit offin a fight, got into trouble with a
gambler out here the other day, andnow the other ear is gone.'"
"How terrible!" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby.
"Oh, jest as like as not 'tain't true, ma'am. Ted is a terrible joker.But what's this?"
Mr. Harrison had turned to the last page of the letter and was earnestlyreading it.
"Listen to this!" he exclaimed. "'There has been a big strike made nearDizzy Gulch. I'm going there, and so are a lot of the boys. Better chuckup your farming and join us. The new diggings are as rich as butter.Shall I stake out a claim for you?'"
No one said anything for a few seconds. This unexpected news from theWest, coming into that quiet farmhouse, was like a glimpse into anotherworld. Jed was staring curiously at Gabe. Will's eyes were big withwonder at hearing of men who were about to set off in a quest for gold.
"Do you suppose that's a joke?" asked Mr. Crosby.
"No, sir!" exclaimed Gabe, firmly. "Ted Jordan don't joke about such aserious subject as prospecting for gold. This settles it. I'm going outthere as fast as I can make tracks for the West. I'm glad I saved my oldpick now. It'll come in handy. Yes, sir, I'm off for Dizzy Gulch!"
Jed had risen to his feet. He was strangely excited.
"Do you suppose there'd be gold enough out there for any other persons,Mr. Harrison?" he asked.
"Enough? Of course there'll be! If it's any kind of a strike at all,it's a good one, or Ted Jordan wouldn't be going. But why do you ask?"
"Because I want to go!" exclaimed the lad quickly. "I've been thinkingof it. Times are dull on the farm, and now that fall is coming on, therewon't be work enough for us boys. Dad, can't Will and I go gold mining?"
"Gold mining?"
"Yes. With Mr. Harrison. Will you take us?" and the youth turned toGabe.
"Take you? Why, of course I will, and welcome. That's a fine idea, Mr.Crosby. The two boys and I will go prospecting for gold, and when wefind a good claim we'll send for you. Let 'em go. It'll pay better thanfarming, take my word for it. We can start in a couple of days."
"Hurrah for the gold mines of Dizzy Gulch!" exclaimed Jed, grabbing Willby the hand, and jumping around the room. "That's the stuff! Let thecrops fail, we'll dig a new one--a yellow one of gold nuggets!"
Two Boy Gold Miners; Or, Lost in the Mountains Page 6
