Part 13 (2/2)

And how they did work! And how pleasant it was here under the broad boughs of the oak, with the water rippling through the sluice on the soft, loose soil which they shoveled into the long sluice-box. They could see the mule-trains going and coming, and the clouds of dust far below which told them the stage was whirling up the valley. But Jim kept steadily on at his work day after day. Even though jack-rabbits and squirrels appeared on the very scene, he would not leave till, like the rest of the honest miners, he could shoulder his pick and pan and go down home with the setting sun.

Sometimes the men who had tried to keep the children at school, would come that way, and with a sly smile, talk very wisely about whether or not the new miners would ”strike it” under the cool oak among the flowers on the hill. But Jim never stopped to talk much. He dug and wrestled away, day after day, now up to his waist in the pit.

One Sat.u.r.day evening the old man limped up the hillside to help the young miners ”clean up.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”COLOR! TWO COLORS! THREE, FOUR, FIVE--A DOZEN!”]

He sat down at the head of the sluice-box and gave directions how they should turn off the most of the water, wash down the ”toilings” very low, lift up the ”riffle,” brush down the ”ap.r.o.n,” and finally set the pan in the lower end of the ”sluice-toil” and pour in the quicksilver to gather up and hold the gold.

”What for you put your hand in de water for, papa?” queried Little Stumps, who had left off his work, which consisted mainly of pulling flowers and putting them in the sluice-box to see them float away. He was sitting by his father's side, and he looked up in his face as he spoke.

”Hush, child,” said the old man softly, as he again dipped his thumb and finger in his vest pocket as if about to take snuff. But he did not take snuff. Again his hand was reached down to the rippling water at the head of the sluice-box. And this time curious but obedient Little Stumps was silent.

Suddenly there was a shout, such a shout from Jim as the hills had not heard since he was a schoolboy.

He had found the ”color.” ”Two colors! three, four, five--a dozen!”

The boy shouted like a Modoc, threw down the brush and sc.r.a.per, and kissed his little sister over and over, and cried as he did so; then he whispered softly to her as he again took up his brush and sc.r.a.per, that it was ”for papa; all for poor papa; that he did not care for himself, but he did want to help poor, tired, and crippled papa.” But papa did not seem to be excited so very much.

The little miners were now continually wild with excitement. They were up and at work Monday morning at dawn. The men who were in the father's tender secret, congratulated the children heartily and made them presents of several small nuggets to add to their little h.o.a.rd.

In this way they kept steadily at work for half the summer. All the gold was given to papa to keep. Papa weighed it each week, and I suppose secretly congratulated himself that he was getting back about as much as he put in.

Before quite the end of the third month, Jim struck a thin bed of blue gravel. The miners who had been happily chuckling and laughing among themselves to think how they had managed to keep Jim out of mischief, began to look at each other and wonder how in the world blue gravel ever got up there on the hill. And in a few days more there was a well-defined bed of blue gravel, too; and not one of the miners could make it out.

One Sat.u.r.day evening shortly after, as the old man weighed their gold he caught his breath, started, and stood up straight; straighter than he had stood since he crossed the Plains. Then he hastily left the cabin. He went up the hill to the children's claim almost without limping. Then he took a pencil and an old piece of a letter, and wrote out a notice and tacked it up on the big oak-tree, claiming those mining claims according to miners' law, for the three children. A couple of miners laughed as they went by in the twilight, to see what he was doing; and he laughed with them. But as he limped on down the hill he smiled.

That night as they sat at supper, he told the children that as they had been such faithful and industrious miners, he was going to give them each a present, besides a little gold to spend as they pleased.

So he went up to the store and bought Jim a red s.h.i.+rt, long black and bright gum boots, a broad-brimmed hat, and a belt. He also bought each of the other children some pretty trappings, and gave each a dollar's worth of gold dust. Madge and Stumps handed their gold back to ”poor papa.” But Jim was crazy with excitement. He put on his new clothes and went forth to spend his dollar. And what do you suppose he bought?

I hesitate to tell you. But what he bought was a pipe and a paper of tobacco!

That red s.h.i.+rt, that belt and broad-brimmed hat, together with the s.h.i.+ny top boots, had been too much for Jim's balance. How could a man--he spoke of himself as a man now--how could a man be an ”honest miner” and not smoke a pipe?

And now with his manly clothes and his manly pipe he was to be so happy! He had all that went to make up ”the honest miner.” True, he did not let his father know about the pipe. He hid it under his pillow at night. He meant to have his first smoke at the sluice-box, as a miner should.

Monday morning he was up with the sun and ready for his work. His father, who worked down the Gulch, had already gone before the children had finished their breakfast. So now Jim filled his bran-new pipe very leisurely; and with as much calm unconcern as if he had been smoking for forty years, he stopped to scratch a match on the door as he went out.

From under his broad hat he saw his little sister watching him, and he fairly swelled with importance as Stumps looked up at him with childish wonder. Leaving Madge to wash the few tin dishes and follow as she could with Little Stumps, he started on up the hill, pipe in mouth.

He met several miners, but he puffed away like a tug-boat against the tide, and went on. His bright new boots whetted and creaked together, the warm wind lifted the broad brim of his _sombrero_, and his bright new red s.h.i.+rt was really beautiful, with the green gra.s.s and oaks for a background--and so this brave young man climbed the hill to his mine. Ah, he was so happy!

Suddenly, as he approached the claim, his knees began to smite together, and he felt so weak he could hardly drag one foot after the other. He threw down his pick; he began to tremble and spin around.

The world seemed to be turning over and over, and he trying in vain to hold on to it. He jerked the pipe from his teeth, and throwing it down on the bank, he tumbled down too, and clutching at the gra.s.s with both hands tried hard, oh! so hard, to hold the world from slipping from under him.

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