Nelly's Silver Mine: A Story of Colorado Life

by Helen Hunt Jackson

  CHAPTER VII

  A HUNT FOR A SILVER MINE

  One morning, early in June, Nelly was sitting out by the old mill,with her lap full of blue anemones and white daisies: the anemoneswere hardly out of their gray cloaks. The anemones in Colorado comeup out of the ground like crocuses; the buds are rolled up tight inthe loveliest little furry coverings almost like chinchilla fur. Ithink this is to keep them warm, because they come very early in thespring, and often there are cold storms after they arrive, and thepoor little anemones are all covered up in snow.

  Nelly heard steps and voices and the trampling of hoofs. She sprangup, and saw that a large blue wagon, drawn by eight mules, had justturned in from the road, towards the brook, and the driver wasmaking ready to camp. He came towards Nelly, and said, verypleasantly:--

  "Little girl, do your folks live in yonder?" pointing to the house.

  "Yes, sir," said Nelly.

  "Do they ever keep folks?"

  "What, sir?" said Nelly.

  "Do they ever keep folks,--keep 'em to board?"

  "Oh, no! never," replied Nelly.

  The man looked disappointed. "Well," he said, "I've got to lie byhere a day or two, anyhow. I was in hopes I could get took in. I'mclean beat out; but I can sleep in the wagon."

  "My mamma will be glad to do all she can for you if you're sick,I'm sure," said Nelly; "but we haven't any spare room in our house."

  The driver looked at Nelly again. He had once been a coachman in agentleman's family at the East, and he knew by Nelly's voice andpolite manner that she was not the child of any of the commonfarmers of the country.

  "Have you lived here long?" he said.

  "Oh, no!" replied Nelly: "only since last spring. We came because mypapa was sick. He has the asthma."

  "Oh!" said the man: "I thought so."

  Nelly wondered why the man should have thought her papa had theasthma; but she did not ask him what he meant. In a few minutes, theman lay down in his wagon and fell fast asleep, and Nelly went intothe house. After dinner, she told Rob about the man, and they wentout together to see him. They peeped into the wagon. It was loadedfull of small bits of gray rock: the man was rolled up in a buffalorobe, lying on top of the stones, still fast asleep. His face wasvery red, and he breathed loud.

  "Oh, dear!" said Nelly, "how uncomfortable he must be! He looks realsick."

  "I bet he's drunk!" said Rob, who had unluckily seen a good deal ofthat sort of sickness since he had lived on a thoroughfare formule-wagons.

  "Is he?" said Nelly, horror-stricken. "No, Rob, he can't be, becausehe talked with me real nice this morning. Let's go and tell mamma."

  Mr. March went out, looked at the man, and woke him up. He foundthat he was indeed ill, and not drunk. The poor fellow had been fivedays on the road, with a very heavy cold; and had taken more coldevery night, sleeping in the open air. Walking all day long in thehot sun had also made him worse, and he was suffering severely.

  "Come right into the house with me, my man," said Mr. March; "mywife'll make you a cup of hot tea."

  "Oh, thank you!" said the man. "I've been thinkin' I'd give all theore in this 'ere wagon for a first-rate cup of tea. I don't nevercarry tea: only coffee; but I've turned against coffee these lasttwo days;" and he followed Mr. March into the house.

  "What'd you say you had in your wagon?" asked Rob, who had beenstanding by.

  "Ore," said the man.

  The only word Rob knew which had that sound was "oar."

  "Oar!" he said. "Why, I didn't see any thing but rocks."

  Mr. March and the man both laughed.

  "Not 'oar,' to row with, Rob," said Mr. March; "but 'ore,' to makemoney out of."

  "Silver ore, I suppose," he added, turning to the man.

  "Yes," he said; "from the Moose mine, up on Mount Lincoln."

  Rob's eyes grew big. "Oh! tell me about it," he said. And Nelly,coming up closer, exclaimed, in a tone unusually eager for her, "Andme too. Is the mountain made of silver, like the mountains in fairystories?"

  The man was drinking his tea, and did not answer. He drank it ingreat mouthfuls, though it was scalding hot.

  "Oh, ma'am," he said, "I haven't tasted any thing that went right tothe spot's that does, for months; if it wouldn't trouble ye toomuch, I'd like one more cup." He drank the second cup as quickly ashe had the first; then he leaned his head back in the chair, andsaid: "I feel like a new man now. I guess that was the medicine Ineeded. I reckon I can go on this afternoon."

  "No," said Mr. March: "you ought to stay here till to-morrow. Thereis an old leather-covered settee in the barn you're welcome to sleepon. It will be better than the ground; and we'll doctor you with hottea, night and morning."

  "You're very kind," said the man: "I don't know but I'd betterstay."

  "Oh, do! do!" said Rob; and "do do!" said Nelly. "Stay and tell usall about the mountain of silver and the Moose; does the Moose drawout the silver?"

  You see Rob and Nelly couldn't get it out of their heads that it wasall like a fairy tale. And so it is when you think of it, morewonderful than almost any fairy tale, to think how great mountainsare full of silver and of gold, and men can burrow deep down intothem, and get out all the silver and gold they need.

  "Oh, there isn't any real Moose," said the man. "That's only thename of the mine. I don't know why they called the mine the Moosemine. They give mines the queerest kind o' names."

  "What is a mine, anyhow?" asked Rob.

  "Oh," said the man, "I forgot you didn't know that. A mine's a holein the ground, or in the side of a mountain, where they dig out goldor silver. There's mines that's miles and miles big, underground,with passages running every way like streets."

  "How do they see down there?" said Rob.

  "They carry lanterns, and there are lanterns fastened up in thewalls."

  "Is your wagon all full of silver?" asked Nelly, in a low tone.

  "Not exactly all silver yet," the man said, laughing; "there's agood deal of silver in it: it's very good ore."

  "It looked just like gray rock," said Rob.

  "Well, that's what it is," replied the man; "it's gray rock. It'sgot to be all pounded up fine in a mill, and then it's got to beroasted with salt in a great oven, and then it's got to be mixedwith chemicals and things. I don't rightly know just what it is theydo to it; it's a heap of work I know, before it ever gets to be thepure silver."

  "Some day I will take you, Rob," said his father, "where you can seeall this done: I want to see it myself. Run out, now, you and Nelly,and play, and let the driver rest. He is too tired to talk anymore."

  Rob and Nelly went back to the wagon. All Nelly's anemones anddaisies were lying on the ground, withered. Even this one short hourof hot sun had been enough to kill them.

  "Oh, my poor, dear flowers!" said Nelly, picking them up. "How couldI forget you!" and she looked at them as sorrowfully as if they werelittle babies she had neglected.

  "Pooh, Nell," cried Rob. "They're no good now. Throw them in thebrook, and come look at the silver."

  They both climbed up on the tongue of the wagon and looked in at thefront.

  "I can't see any silver about it," said Nelly; "it don't look likeany thing but little gray stones, all broken up into bits."

  "No," said Rob: "it don't shine much;" and he picked up a bit andheld it out in the sun.

  "Oh, take care! take care, Rob!" cried Nelly. "Don't lose it; itmight be as much as a quarter of a dollar, that bit."

  "Nell," said Rob, earnestly, "don't you wish papa had a mine, and wecould dig up all the money we wanted? oh, my!" and Rob drew in hisbreath in a long whistle.

  "Yes," said Nelly: "I mean to look for one. Do you find the holesalready dug, do you suppose? Perhaps that place where old Mollytumbled in was a mine."

  Old Molly was one of their cows, who had tumbled one day into a holemade by a slide of earth; and Zeb had had to go down and tie ropesaround her to pull her up.

  "Yes," said Rob: "I bet you any thing it is. Let's g
o right up therenow, and see if we can find some rock like this. I'll carry thispiece in my pocket to tell by. I'll only borrow it: I'll put itback."

  "Let me carry it then," said Nelly. "I'm so afraid you'll lose it."

  So Nelly tied the little bit of gray rock in a corner of herpocket-handkerchief, and then crammed her handkerchief down tight inher pocket, and they set off at a swift pace, towards the ravinewhere Molly had had her unlucky fall.

  When dinner-time came, the children were nowhere to be found. Zebwent up and down the brook for a mile, looking and calling aloud.Watch and Trotter had both disappeared also.

  "Ye needn't worry so long's the dogs is along, ma'am," said Zeb,when he returned from his bootless search. "If they get into anytrouble, Watch'll come home and let us know. He's got more sense'nmost men, that dog has."

  But Mrs. March could not help worrying. Never since they had livedin the Pass had Nelly and Rob gone away for any long walk withoutcoming and bidding her good-by, and telling her where they weregoing. The truth was, that this time they had entirely forgotten it:they were so excited by the hopes of finding a mine. They had walkednearly a mile when Nelly suddenly exclaimed: "Oh, Rob! we didn't saygood-by to mamma! She won't know where we are."

  "So we didn't!" said Rob. "What a shame! But we can't go back now,Nell: it's too late; we've come miles and miles; we'd better keepon; she'll know we're all right; we always are. We're most therenow."

  It was the middle of the afternoon before Rob and Nelly got home.Mrs. March had been walking up and down the road anxiously for anhour, when she saw the two little figures coming down the verysteepest of the hills. They walked very slowly; so slowly that shefelt sure one of them must be hurt. The dogs were bounding alongbefore them. As soon as the children saw their mother, Rob took offhis hat, and Nelly her sun-bonnet, and waved them in the air. Thisrelieved Mrs. March's fears, and the tears came into her eyes, shewas so glad. "Oh, Robert, there they are!" she exclaimed to Mr.March, who had just joined her. "See! there they are, way up on thatsteep hill. Thank God, they are safe!"

  Mr. and Mrs. March both stood in the road, shading their eyes withtheir hands, and looking up at the children.

  As they drew nearer, Mrs. March exclaimed: "Why, what are theycarrying?" Mr. March burst out laughing, and said: "They look likelittle pack mules." In a few minutes, the hot, tired, dusty littlewanderers reached the road, and ran breathlessly up to their fatherand mother:

  "Oh, mamma!" cried Rob; and "Oh, papa!" cried Nelly. "We've found amine; we've got lots of ore; now we can get all the money we want.You see if this isn't almost exactly like the stuff in the man'swagon!" and Nelly emptied her apron on the ground, and Rob emptiedhis jacket; he had taken it off and carried it by the sleeves so asto make a big sack of it. Mr. and Mrs. March could hardly keep fromlaughing at the sight: there were the two piles of little bits ofstone, and the children with red and dirty faces and theperspiration rolling down their cheeks, getting down on their kneesto pick out the choicest specimens. Nelly was fumbling deep down inher pocket; presently she drew out her handkerchief all knotted in awisp, and out of the last knot she took the little bit of ore whichthey had borrowed from the wagon for a sample. This she laid in herfather's hand: "There, papa," she said, "that's the man's: weborrowed it to carry along to tell by."

  "They don't look so much like it as they did," she added, turningsorrowfully back to the poor little pile of stones. Rob was gazingat them too, with a crest-fallen face.

  "Why, they don't shine a bit now," he said; "up there they shonelike every thing."

  Mr. March picked up a bit of the stone and looked closely at it.

  "Ah, Rob," he said, "the reason it doesn't shine now, is because thesun has gone under a cloud. There are little points of mica in thesestones, and mica shines in the sun; but there isn't any silver here,dear. Did you really think you had made all our fortunes?"

  Rob did not speak. He had hard work to keep from crying. He stoodstill, slowly kicking the pile of stones with one foot. His fatherpitied him very much.

  "Never mind, Rob," he said; "you're not the first fellow that hasthought he had found a mine, and been mistaken."

  Rob stooped down and picked up two big handfuls of the stones andthrew them as far as he could throw them.

  "Old cheats!" he said.

  "Yes, real old cheats!" said Nelly; and she began to scatter thestones with her foot. "And they were awful heavy. Oh, mamma, I'm sohungry!"

  "So'm I," said Rob. "Isn't it dinner-time?"

  "Dinner-time!" exclaimed their mother. "Did you really not have anymore idea of the time than that! Why, it is three o'clock! Wherehave you been?"

  "Not very far, mamma," answered Nelly; "only up where old Mollytumbled in. Rob thought perhaps that hole was a mine. It's all fullof these shining stones. Isn't it too bad, mamma?"

  "Isn't what too bad, Nell?" said Mrs. March.

  "Why, too bad that they ain't silver," replied Nelly. "We thought wecould all have every thing we wanted."

  Mrs. March laughed.

  "What do you want most of all this minute?" she said.

  "Something to eat, mamma," said Nelly.

  "Well, that you can have; and that I hope we can always have withoutany silver mine: and to-day we have something very good to eat."

  "Oh! what, mamma, what? say, quick!" said Rob.

  "Chicken pie," said Mrs. March, in a very comical, earnest tone.

  "Chicken pie!" shouted Rob. "Hurrah! hurrah!" and both he and Nellyran toward the house as hard as they could go.

  "There is a wish-bone drying for you on the mantelpiece," called outMr. March.

  "They'll both wish for a silver mine, I expect," laughed Mrs. March,as she and her husband walked slowly along. "What a queer notionthat was to come into such children's heads!"

  "I don't know," said Mr. March, reflectively; "I think it's a verynatural notion to come into anybody's head. I'd like a silver minemyself, very much."

  "We mightn't be any happier if we had one, nor half so happy,"replied Mrs. March. "I'd rather have you well, and the childrenwell, than have all the silver mines in Colorado."

  "If you had to choose between the two things, I dare say," answeredMr. March; "but I suppose a person might have good health and asilver mine besides. How would that do?"

  "Well, I'll make sure of the health first," said Mrs. March,laughing. "I'm not in so much hurry for the silver mine."

  After Rob and Nelly had eaten up all the chicken pie which had beensaved for them, they took down the wish-bone from the mantelpiece,and prepared to "wish."

  "It's so dry, it'll break splendidly," said Rob. "I know what I'mgoing to wish for."

  "So do I," said Nelly, resolutely; "I'm going to wish hard."

  They both pulled with all their might. Crack went the wish-bone,--nodifference in the length of the two pieces.

  "Pshaw!" cried Rob; "how mean! one or the other of us might have hadit."

  Nelly drew a long sigh. "Rob," said she, "What did you wish for?"

  "A silver mine," said he, "both times."

  "So did I," said Nell. "I thought you did, too. I guess we sha'n'teither of us ever have one."

  "I don't care," said Rob; "there's plenty of money besides in mines.I'm going to have a bank when I'm a man."

  "Are you, Rob?" said Nell. "What's that?"

  "Oh, just a house where you can go and get money," replied Rob,confidently. "I used to go with papa often at home. They gave himall he wanted."

  Nelly looked somewhat perplexed. She did not know any thing aboutbanks: still she thought there was a loose screw somewhere in Rob'scalculations; but she did not ask him any more questions.

  After tea, Mr. March walked away with the driver of the mule team.They did not come back until it was dark. Mr. March opened the doorof the sitting-room, and said, "Sarah, I wish you'd come out here afew minutes." When she had stepped out and closed the door, he said,"I want you to come up where the wagon is: there's a nice bonfire upthere, and it isn't cold; I want
this man to tell you all he's beentelling me about a place down south,--a hundred miles below this. Ifit's all's he says, that's the place we ought to go to. But I wantedyou to hear all about it before I said any thing to the Deacon."

  The driver's name, by the way, was Billy; he was called "Long Billy"on the roads where he drove, because his legs were so long, and hisbody so short. He had made a splendid bonfire on the edge of thebrook, and Mr. March and he had been sitting there for an hour, on abuffalo robe spread on the ground. Mrs. March sat down with them,and Long Billy began his story over again. It seemed that he hadformerly been a driver of a mule team on another route, much farthersouth than this one. He had "hauled ore," as he called it, from alittle town called Rosita, to another town called Canyon City. Therethe ore was packed on cars and sent over the little narrow-gaugerailroad up to Central City, where the silver was extracted from therock, and moulded into little solid bricks of silver ready to besent to the mint at Philadelphia to be made into half dollars andquarters.

  This town of Rosita lay among mountains: was built on the sides oftwo or three narrow gulches, in the Wet Mountain range; at the footof these mountains was the beautiful Wet Mountain Valley,--a valleythirty miles long, and only from five to eight miles wide; on theside farthest from Rosita this valley was walled by another highmountain range, the Sangre di Christo range. This means "The bloodof Christ." The Spaniards gave this name to the mountains when theyfirst came to the country. All the mountains in the Sangre diChristo range are over eight thousand feet high, and many of themare over twelve thousand; their points are sharp like the teeth of asaw, and they are white with snow the greater part of the year. Thebeautiful valley lying between these two long lines of mountains wasthe place about which Long Billy had been telling Mr. March, and nowbegan to tell Mrs. March.

  "Why, ma'am," he said, "I tell ye, after coming over these plains,it is jest like lookin' into Heaven, to get a look down into thatvalley; it's as green as any medder land ye ever laid your eyes on;I've seen the grass there higher'n my knee, in July."

  "Oh!" said Mrs. March, with a sigh of satisfaction at the verythought of it, "I would like to see tall grass once more."

  "Yes, indeed wife," said Mr. March; "but think what a place thatwould be for cattle, and for hay. Farming would be something worthtalking about; and Billy says that the farmers in the valley canhave a good market in Rosita for all they can raise. There arenearly a thousand miners there; and it is also only a day's journeyfrom Pueblo, which is quite a city. It really looks to me like themost promising place I've heard any thing about here."

  "It's the nicest bit of country there is anywhere in Colorado," saidBilly, "'s fur's I've seen it. Them mountains's jest a picture tolook at all the time; 'n' there's a creek,--Grape Creek, they callit, because it's just lined with wild grape-vines, for miles,--runsthrough the valley; 'n' lots o' little creeks coming down out o' themountains, 'n' empties into't. I wouldn't ask nothin' more o' theLord than that He'd give me a little farm down in Wet MountainValley for the rest o' my life. I know that."

  "Do you think there are any farms there that could be bought?"asked Mr. March, anxiously. "I should think such desirable landswould be all taken up."

  "Well, they're changin' round there a good deal," said Billy. "Yewouldn't think it; but men they git discontented a hearing so muchtalk about silver. They're always a hoping to get hold on a mine 'n'make a big fortin all in a minnit; but I hain't seen so many ofthese big fortins made off minin' 'n this country. For one manthet's made his fortin, I've known twenty that's lost it. Now Ithink on't I did hear, last spring, that Wilson he wanted to sellout; 'n' if you could get his farm, you'd jest be fixed first rate.There's the best spring o' water on his place there is in all thevalley; and it ain't more'n four miles 'n' a half from his place upinto Rosita: ye'd walk it easy."

  Mr. March looked at his wife. Her face was full of excitement andpleasure.

  "It sounds perfectly delightful, Robert," she said; "but you know wethought just so about this Pass. The pictures were so beautiful, andall they told us sounded attractive."

  Billy made a scornful sound almost like a snort.

  "H'm!" he said, "anybody that recommended ye to settle this low downin the Ute Pass for stock-raisin' or farmin' must ha' been either aknave or a fool: that's certain."

  "A knave, I think," said Mrs. March. "He tried very hard to sell usthe whole place."

  "I'll be bound he did," sneered Billy; "cheap enough he'll sell it,too, afore ever he gets anybody to buy."

  "Say, mister," he continued, "you jest come along with me to-morrow:I'd like to take a run down to Rosita, first rate; 'n' I've got tolay by a few days anyhow. I'll get this load o' ore board the carsat the Springs, 'n' then I'll jest quit work for a week; 'n' I'll godown with yer to Rosita. There's somebody there I'm wantin' to seeputty bad." And Billy's burnt face grew a shade or two deeper red.

  "Ah, Billy, is that it?" said Mr. March.

  "Well, yes, sir. We're a calculatin' to be married one o' these dayssoon's I get a little ahead. It's slow work, though, layin' up moneyteamin', 'n' I won't take her out of a good home till I can give herone o' her own's good. Her father he's foreman 'n one o' the minesthere; 'n' he's always been a real forehanded man. She's well off:she's got no occasion to marry anybody to be took care of." AndBilly smiled complacently at the thought that it must have been forpure love that the Rosita young lady had promised to marry him.

  "Sarah, what do you think of my going?" said Mr. March.

  "Go, by all means!" said Mrs. March. "The little journey will do yougood, even if nothing comes of it. We need not say any thing aboutthe reason for your going, till you get back. If you decide to movedown there, that will be time enough to explain."

  "And Mrs. Plummer will say that it was all 'providential,'" laughedMr. March.

  "And so shall I, Robert," said Mrs. March, very earnestly.

  The next morning Mr. March and Long Billy set off together at seveno'clock. It was the first time Mrs. March had been separated fromher husband in this new country, and she dreaded it.

  "Good-by! good-by!" called the children, in their night-gowns, atthe bedroom window; "good-by, papa."

  "Good-by!" said the Deacon; "reckon your bones'll ache some, beforeye get to the Springs, a ridin' that wheeler." Mr. March was ridingthe rear wheeler, and Long Billy was walking by his side.

  "Not if he don't walk any faster than this," said Mr. March. "And Ishall walk half of the time."

  "Ye needn't walk a step if ye'd rather ride," said Billy. "I'm allright this mornin'. 'Tain't only about ten miles down to ColoradoSprings. I don't think nothin' o' walkin' that fur, especially whenI've got company to talk to. Mules is dreadful tiresome critters.Now a hoss's real good company; but a mule ain't no company, 'tall."