Part 35 (1/2)

”Our errand will plead our excuses,” said Ashley; ”besides they will be too much absorbed with something else to pay much attention to us.

Moreover they will know that our lives of late have been pa.s.sed mostly under ground, and they will not expect us to reflect much light.”

”What are your plans, Ashley, for the near future, after this business which we have in hand shall be over?” asked Harding.

”A home in old Pennsylvania is to be purchased,” said Ashley, ”and then a trial with my fellow men for a fortune and for such honors as may be fairly won. And you Harding, what have you marked out?”

Said Harding: ”My father's estate is to be redeemed; after that, whatever a strong right arm backing an honest purpose, can win. But one thing we must not forget. We must be the semi-guardians of those children of Brewster, until they shall pa.s.s beyond our care.”

”You are very right, my boy,” said Ashley. ”Brewster was altogether grand and his children must ever be our concernment.”

In the early night the Hudson was crossed and the train plunged on through the hills beyond. At Walpole early next morning the train was boarded by three gentlemen who searched out Harding and Ashley and introduced themselves as old friends of Brewster and his family. They had come out to escort the body of Brewster to Taunton, now only a few miles off. The names of these men were respectively Hartwell, Hill and Burroughs.

Hartwell explained that the remains would be taken to an undertaker, and examined to see if it would be possible for the children and Mrs.

Wolcott, the sister of Brewster, to look upon their father's and brother's face. He also said the funeral would be on the succeeding day.

Then the particulars of the accident were asked.

A full and graphic account of the whole affair had been published in the Virginia City papers.

Copies of these were produced and handed over as giving a full idea of the calamity.

The statement made by the superintendent of the Bullion including the smaller certificate of deposit, also the other effects of Brewster, all but the money obtained from Miller, were transferred to Mr. Hartwell.

On reaching Taunton a great number of sympathizing friends were in waiting, for Brewster had lived there all his life until he went West three years before, and he was much esteemed. The manner of his death added to the general sympathy.

A hea.r.s.e in waiting, at once took the body away. The young men were taken to his home by Mr. Hartwell. They begged to be permitted to go to a hotel, but the request would not be listened to.

On examination it was found that the work of the embalmer had been most thorough. The face of Brewster was quite natural and placid, as though in sleep.

Breakfast was in waiting for the young men, and when it was disposed of they were shown again to the parlors and introduced to a score of people who had gathered in to hear the story of Brewster's death from the lips of the men who had taken his body from the deep pit and brought it home for burial.

In the conversation which followed two or three hours were consumed.

When the callers had gone, Hartwell said:

”Gentlemen, I advise you to go to your rooms and try and get some rest.

In two or three hours I shall want you to go and make a call with me, if the poor family of my friend can bear it.”

Late that afternoon Hartwell knocked on the door of the sitting room, which, with sleeping apartments on either side, had been given Harding and Ashley, and when the door was opened, he said:

”Gentlemen, please come with me, the children of James Brewster desire to see you!”

The young men arose and followed their host. Brewster had always referred to his daughters as his ”little girls;” the man who had the young men to go and meet them, spoke of them as ”the children of James Brewster.” Both Harding and Ashley, as they followed Hartwell, were mentally framing words of comfort to speak to school misses just entering their teens, who were in sorrow.

When then, they were ushered into the presence of two thoroughly accomplished young women, and when these ladies, with tears streaming down their faces, came forward, shook their hands, and, in broken words of warmest grat.i.tude, thanked them for all they had done and were doing, and for all they had been to their father in life and in death, the men from the desert were lost in surprise and astonishment.

As Harding said later: ”I felt as though I was in a drift on the 2,800-foot level, into which no air pipe had been carried.”

This apparition was all the more startling to them, because during the two or three years that they had been at work on the Comstock, the very nature of their occupation forbade their mingling in the society of refined women to any but a most limited extent.