Part 33 (2/2)

”It isn't a matter of trust, it's business,” answered the Doctor. ”But on purely business principles we shall be able to arrange for your mother to put in the property and my friends to put in the money capital. I shall not ask your mother for a cent, for she has been like a mother to me ever since I came down here for my health and began boarding with her. My own people will allow me out of their share, a sufficient interest to compensate me. Now, I undertake also that they or I shall allow to Ed and Jim, half a share each in the mine, supposing it to be capitalized at a hundred thousand dollars, in return for their services while we have to stay here.”

”No, Doctor,” said Jack, ”I will not hear of that. If you'll furnish one-half share, I engage that my mother shall furnish the other. That will divide the thing equally.”

The Doctor, seeing the entire justice of this arrangement, a.s.sented to it, and the two called Jim and Ed into the conference. When they laid the proposition before the pair, it was joyfully accepted. Ed said:

”Even without that, we shouldn't have left the camp. We fellows have had so good a time together that I, for one, would have stayed and done my share of the work, with or without a financial interest in it.”

”So should I,” said Jim, enthusiastically. ”Now that we are to be capitalists and stockholders and all that sort of thing, it will require all our self restraint not to grow c.o.c.ky and refuse to work. Still there are a lot of poles to cut for the new shelter, and if you two fellows are going to stay here all day and talk, the rest of us must work all the harder.”

”We're going to work at once, Jim,” said the Doctor. ”But I want you to understand that in my judgment this mine is going to be a great property, and that your share in it will go far to make you prosperous men.”

Then Ed broke down. He had lived a hard life, trying to aid his widowed mother by such work as he could do, and this prospect opened to him, of a little income independent of his work, overcame him with emotion as he thought of the good mother released perhaps from the necessity of hard toil for the rest of her life. The simple fact is that as Ed turned away to hide his emotion, the tears rolled down his cheeks. But if he sobbed, it was not until he had gone down the hill well beyond the ledge of broken stones that marked the boundary of the camp.

When night came, the eager boys began again to question the Doctor about coal and coal mines. To every question, he replied by singing ”Old King Coal,” and declaring anew his resolute purpose not to talk at all on that subject till little Tom's return. But the Doctor was jubilant all the same, and he said presently, ”His Majesty King Coal is a very generous monarch and he is going to make all of us well to do if not actually rich.” Then he broke out again into the song:

”Old King Coal Was a jolly old soul, And a jolly old soul was he; He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl, And he called for his fiddlers three.”

CHAPTER XL

_Tom's Journey_

Tom had not gone far on his journey before he discovered that the new Camp Venture was in fact situated very nearly at the base of the mountain. The headquarters of the railroad people lay a mile or so to the west, and perhaps two hundred feet or so lower. But along the foot of the hill was acc.u.mulated all the debris that had come tumbling down the steep for ages--great and small fragments of rock split off the cliffs above by the frosts of a mult.i.tude of winters and now piled haphazard wherever they could find a resting place.

In the midst of such a ma.s.s of rocky debris, now thickly overgrown with forest trees, Tom at first despaired of finding a practicable wagon path. But he toiled diligently at the task, retracing his steps many times and little by little tracing out a way, which he marked as he went by cutting branches of trees and setting them up as landmarks to show him the way when he should return with a wagon load of supplies.

All this occupied so much time that Tom did not reach his destination that night, but slept by a little fire on the mountain side.

In the morning there was a drenching, discouraging spring rain falling with pitiless persistence, and Tom's clothing and blanket were soaked through, and his limbs were stiff with cold. Fortunately his fire had not been entirely extinguished by the rain, and when he had replenished it with seasoned branches, and steamed himself in its glow for a time, his energy returned, and he cooked and ate a scant but refres.h.i.+ng breakfast which included the two drumsticks of the Doctor's turkey.

These had been roasted the night before, but Tom threw them on the coals to broil a little. ”I prefer a hot breakfast,” he said, ”particularly on a morning like this. How I wish I had a cup of coffee!”

Then gathering up the few things that he carried, he left his camp fire and continued his task of picking out a way by which a wagon might be dragged up and along the rocky hill. It was high noon when he reached the little railroad station where Dr. Latrobe's father had established his headquarters as a contractor. Tom was enthusiastically received by that gentleman, who was naturally pleased to hear news of his son's thoroughly restored health. There was a little tavern already established near the station and there Tom was made to dry and warm himself. Having a.s.sured Mr. Latrobe that he could conduct a loaded wagon up the hill to the new Camp Venture, Tom speedily left his occupation of warming himself and joined the older gentleman in choosing the materials that were to const.i.tute the load. Mr. Latrobe had a.s.signed for the purpose a heavy, stoutly built wagon, capable of enduring rough road service, and to Tom he said: ”I've sent a little way down the line for four of the stoutest mules we have, to draw it, and for a driver who is used to mountain work. They will be here this evening and in the meantime we'll get the wagon loaded, so that you can make an early start in the morning.” This suited Tom's plans exactly, and he set himself at work at once selecting from the contractor's stores, the things most desirable for his purpose.

There were ten large sides of bacon; half a barrel of sugar; half a barrel of mola.s.ses; half a barrel of corned beef; several hundred pounds of corn meal and a like quant.i.ty of flour in bags; a bushel or two of salt, and a good supply of potatoes, turnips, cabbages, canned vegetables and fruits with which to break the long monotony of the camp diet. Mr. Latrobe insisted upon adding some prunes, dried peaches, dried apples, and some other things that he thought the boys would enjoy.

Finally a large box of coffee already ground and put up in damp-proof packages, was placed in the wagon, together with ten pounds of tea.

”You see I've done a great deal of camping, my boy,” said the genial gentleman, ”and I know how much of comfort there is in tea and coffee when you're rain soaked.”

All these things were packed into the wagon by some of Mr. Latrobe's men, and securely lashed into immovability with stout hemp ropes. Over them a tarpaulin was spread to protect them from the rain and on top of that the picks and shovels were lashed into place.

The wagon was ready and that night Tom slept in a real bed for the first time in nearly half a year. But he was up at daybreak and off on his journey before the sun's appointed time for rising. Whether or not that luminary left his couch when he should, Tom had no means of finding out, for it was still heavily raining.

It was a toilsome journey that lay before him and Tom foresaw that it could not be accomplished much before nightfall, even should no delaying mishap occur, and therefore he disregarded the rain and insisted upon the earliest possible start.

It was Tom's function to walk ahead of the wagon, look out for the landmarks he had set up, and point the way to the driver who, armed with a long black snake whip, rode upon the ”near,” or left hand, wheel mule.

<script>