Two Boy Gold Miners; Or, Lost in the Mountains Part 8

"No, she's a good girl, and my boys are good boys. If they don't have all 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 I can't afford to pay him. He works for less than a younger man would, and he does almost as much. But the boys and I will have to get along as best 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 "s.m.u.t," and part of that crop was worthless. The potatoes too began to rot in the ground, and things looked very gloomy indeed. Mr. Harrison took 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 the work it was possible to do had been attended to, and it was only necessary to wait for the maturing of the various crops before harvesting them.

There was one spot of brightness in all this gloom. A big field of barley, which Mr. Crosby had not thought would amount to much, turned out a much larger crop than he expected. Then there happened to be a short 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 hearing this news. "I was to the city to-day, and I had an offer from a big dealer for my barley. I was about to take it when another man offered me much more. This shows there is going to be a big demand for it, and I'm going to hold on to mine. If I can get a little more per bushel than the last offer, it will see me through the winter nicely, and leave a bit over."

"Well, that certainly is good news," said Mr. Harrison. "I'm glad I heard it before I left, for I'll be thinking of you people often this winter."

"Oh, I almost forgot about it," spoke Mr. Crosby. "I stopped at the post-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 be writing to me?"

"The best way is to open it and then you can tell," said Jed, with a smile.

"Oh, I know now. It's from Ted Jordan. I know his writing. It's like a hen that stepped in an ink bottle and then tried to do a dance. Wonder what 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. I done 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 what he says I'll read you the letter. Guess there's nothing very private in it, and Ted is a jolly chap.

"'Dear Gabe,'" read the old miner. "'Sorry to hear you got so down on your luck you had to turn farmer. Your picture don't look a bit like you, but I suppose the crows have been picking at you. Say, I have great news for you. Old Sim b.u.t.terfield, the fellow that had one ear bit off in a fight, got into trouble with a gambler out here the other day, and now 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 earnestly reading it.

"Listen to this!" he exclaimed. "'There has been a big strike made near Dizzy Gulch. I'm going there, and so are a lot of the boys. Better chuck up your farming and join us. The new diggings are as rich as b.u.t.ter.

Shall I stake out a claim for you?'"

No one said anything for a few seconds. This unexpected news from the West, coming into that quiet farmhouse, was like a glimpse into another world. Jed was staring curiously at Gabe. Will's eyes were big with wonder 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 a serious subject as prospecting for gold. This settles it. I'm going out there as fast as I can make tracks for the West. I'm glad I saved my old pick 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 thinking of it. Times are dull on the farm, and now that fall is coming on, there won'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 to Gabe.

"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 we find a good claim we'll send for you. Let 'em go. It'll pay better than farming, take my word for it. We can start in a couple of days."

"Hurrah for the gold mines of Dizzy Gulch!" exclaimed Jed, grabbing Will by the hand, and jumping around the room. "That's the stuff! Let the crops fail, we'll dig a new one--a yellow one of gold nuggets!"

CHAPTER VII

OFF FOR THE WEST

Never before, save, perhaps, when the lightning struck, had there been such excitement in the Crosby home. The farmer and his wife stared in amazement at the sight of their two sons doing a good imitation of a Highland fling, for Will had caught Jed's enthusiasm, and the two boys were singing and leaping about, "as if they were circus performers," as their mother said afterward.

"Come on, Nettie, have a waltz!" exclaimed Jed. "We'll send you back enough gold for a pair of earrings and a bracelet!"

"Jed! Jed!" exclaimed his mother. "Do behave yourself. You're not going to let them undertake that crazy plan, are you?" she asked of her husband.

Mr. Crosby did not answer. He, too, was thinking of the golden West, and his poor farm that hardly supported him.

"Of course we can go. Can't we, dad?" asked Jed. "Why, it will be the best thing that ever happened!"

"It will--if we get the gold," added his brother, more soberly, for his first enthusiasm had begun to cool.

"Find the gold? Of course we'll find the gold. Won't we, Mr. Harrison?"

"Well, I always have been pretty lucky," replied the miner. "I always got gold when I went after it, but I didn't always keep it. If I had the money the gambler swindled me out of I'd be in good shape now."

"Maybe that gambler your friend wrote about is the same one who swindled you," suggested Jed.

"No. I guess Con Morton knows enough to keep away from Ted Jordan. He's looking for him, too. But I'll come across Con some day, and then I'll wager I'll make him sh.e.l.l out what he stole from me. But, Mr. Crosby, seriously speaking, why can't these two boys go with me? It will do them good. As Jed says, you won't need them on the farm now, and they may strike it rich. Stranger things have happened."

"I don't know that I would object to having them go, in your company,"

said the farmer, "for I know they are good boys, and can take care of themselves. But I'm afraid I couldn't spare the money for railroad fares, and for the outfits."

"Don't let that worry you," advised Gabe.