Ben's Nugget; Or, A Boy's Search For Fortune

"You are quite mistaken. My agent—"

"Only followed your instructions," said an unexpected voice, as Jones, who was within hearing, now entered from the adjoining room. "Mr. Orton, I have confessed all, so you needn't try to humbug this gentleman."

"You are a scoundrel," said Campbell, wrathfully, excited by the appearance of the man who, in return for being cheated, had betrayed him.

"Then there's a pair of us, Mr. Campbell," said he, coolly. "I admit that I behaved like a rascal, but I've tried to set matters right."

"You can find your way back to New York as you can; I have done with you," said Campbell, hardly conscious that this very remark betrayed him.

"Mr. Dewey has kindly offered to take me back with him," said Jones, not at all disturbed by this notice.

"If you are going back by the next steamer, Mr. Campbell," said Richard Dewey, "I will thank you to apprise your father of his ward's marriage, and ask him to arrange for the surrender of her property at the proper time."

"You may attend to your own messages, sir," said Orton, irritably. "I will have nothing to do with them."

Without any further words he hurried out of the house, and drove at once to the office of the steamship company, where he secured passage by the earliest vessel eastward bound.

That same evening Mr. and Mrs. Richard Dewey held an informal reception at their boarding-house.

It was not largely attended, for Florence had made but few acquaintances during her stay in the city. Uncertain as her prospects were, she had thought it best to keep aloof from her friends, who might possibly make known her residence to her guardian. Among those present, however, were Richard Dewey's tried friends, Bradley and Ben Stanton.

Bradley tried to excuse himself, on the ground that he was only a rough miner and not accustomed to society, but his objection was overruled both by Florence and her husband.

"You are a true friend, Mr. Bradley," said Florence, gratefully, "and I should miss you more than any one else except my young friend and cousin, Ben."

"Ben's different from what I am," said Bradley. "He ain't such a rough specimen."

"I'm only a miner, like you," said Ben. "I am a country boy and not used to society, but I don't believe Cousin Ida will care for that."

"Cousin Ida" was the name by which Ben had been instructed to call Florence when she came out to California under his escort.

The upshot of it all was that both Bradley and Ben were present at the bride's reception, and were made so thoroughly at home by Mrs. Richard Dewey that neither felt in the least awkward.

Two weeks later Richard Dewey and his wife sailed for New York, but Ben and Bradley remained behind.

"Come with us, Ben," said Florence. "I don't like to leave you behind."

"Thank you, Miss Florence—I mean Mrs. Dewey," said the boy—"but I am not ready to go yet."

"Don't let the thought of money keep you here, Ben. I am rich, or I shall be in a few months, when my guardian surrenders his trust, and I will take care that you are well provided for."

"Thank you again," said Ben; "but I've promised to go back to the mines. I've got a claim reserved for me, and so has Bradley. We'll go back now and try to gather a little more gold-dust."

"But you'll let us see you in New York before long?"

"Yes, I shall go home in a few months, even if I come back again later. I want to see Uncle Job and Cousin Jennie, and all my old friends, not forgetting Sam Sturgis," added Ben, smiling.

"We must be content with that, I suppose," said the young lady. "I hope you will have good luck, but even if you don't, remember that you have two friends who will only be too glad to be of service to you.—Please consider, Mr. Bradley, that this is said to you also."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Jake Bradley, awkwardly, for with all his good traits he was not quite at ease in the society of ladies.

Ben and Bradley saw the young couple off on the steamer, and then prepared to go back to the mines.

"It's made me feel kind of lonesome to part with Dick Dewey," said Bradley, thoughtfully. "He's a whole-souled feller, and he's 'struck it rich' in a wife."

"That's so, Jake."

CHAPTER XXX.

THE NUGGET

Ben and Bradley made their way back to Golden Gulch by easy stages. They reached the Gulch about sunset, and were welcomed in such noisy style by the miners that it might almost be called an ovation.

"We reckoned you'd come," said one of the leaders. "You look like you'd keep your promise."

"I hope there ain't any hosses been stole since we went away," said Bradley, jocosely. "Ben and I ain't quite ready to hand in our checks."

"We wouldn't hold you responsible if there had been," was the reply.

"That makes me feel a little easier in mind," said Bradley. "It may be pleasant to hang from a branch with a noose round your neck, but I don't want to try it."

The miners were just preparing to take their evening meal, and Ben and his friend were invited to share their hospitality. After supper pipes were produced, and Bradley was called upon to bring forth his budget of news. In the little mining-settlement, far from the great world, a man who could give the latest news from the city or produce a late paper from any of the Eastern cities was hailed as a public benefactor.

So it was at an unusually late hour that our friends and the miners retired to rest.

The next morning the two new-comers were shown the claims which had been set aside for them. They were eligibly located, and already had a commercial value, but were bestowed out of good-will, without a cent of compensation.

Bradley and Ben got to work at once. They had had their vacation, and were ready to settle down to business. They were stimulated to effort by the success of some of their fellow miners. Ben's next neighbor had already gathered nearly three thousand dollars' worth of gold-dust, and it was quite within the limits of probability that our young hero might be as successful.

"If I fail it won't be for lack of trying," thought Ben.

Three thousand dollars, in addition to the thousand he already had, would make him feel rich. Some of my readers, who have been luxuriously reared, will be surprised to hear this. But Ben had always been used to small things. He had been brought up in a small country town, where a dollar counts for a good deal more than it does in the city, and where a man possessing ten thousand dollars is thought to be independently rich. His uncle Job, who was thrifty and industrious, and generally, through careful economy, had a little money in the savings bank, was probably worth, at the outside, fifteen hundred dollars.

No wonder, then, that the prospect of being worth four thousand dollars dazzled our young hero and stimulated him to unwonted effort.

Neither of our two friends got on fast. They averaged perhaps fifty dollars a week each, but out of this their expenses had to be paid, and these, on account of the high price of all articles of necessity, were rather heavy. Still, the end of each week found both richer, and they were contented.

It was the aim of every miner to "strike it rich." Each had a dream of some day cutting a rich vein or finding a nugget of extraordinary size which should compress into one day the profits of a year or two of ordinary success. But such lucky finds were not numerous. As in ordinary life, the large prizes are rare, and average success is the rule. But the general hope was kept up by occasional lucky strokes.

"Ben," said Bradley, one day in excitement, returning from a visit to the claims half a mile distant on the other side of a hilly ridge, "I've got great news."

"What is it, Jake?"

"Perkins has just found a nugget that must contain five hundred dollars' worth of gold."

"You don't say so, Jake?"

"Fact; I just saw it."

"I hope there's more of them 'round here."

"So do I. That's a find worth having."

The discovery made a sensation at Golden Gulch. It excited the hope of all, and stimulated labor. What had fallen to Perkins might chance to any one of his comrades.

So, as the miners sat round their roaring fire—for it was getting chilly in the evening—one and another discussed the interesting question, "What would I do if I could find a nugget?" Various, of course, were the answers. One would go home and start a dry-goods store (he had been a dry-goods clerk in Philadelphia); another would buy the old Stuart place and get married; another would pay off a mortgage on the old homestead, and so on.

"What would you do, Ben?" asked Bradley.

"I would go home by the next steamer, and buy Uncle Job the three-acre lot he has been wanting so long, and buy new dresses for aunt and Jennie. But it isn't much use forming plans till the nugget is found."

"That's so, Ben; but you are as likely to find it as the next man."

"I will hope for it, at any rate."

Though Ben's prospects were excellent, and he had met with unusual success, his thoughts often wandered back to the quiet village where the years of his boyhood had been chiefly passed. From time to time he was disturbed by the thought that something might have happened to his uncle's family, of whom he had heard little or nothing since he went away. He afterward learned that letters had been sent which he had not received. He was not exactly homesick, but he felt keenly the lack of news from home.

In spite of this, however, he worked on with energy and industry. He felt that every dollar he earned brought nearer the day when he would feel justified in turning his back upon the gold-fields of California and wending his homeward way to Hampton.

Meanwhile, Ben did not neglect to do what he could for the general entertainment. It has already been mentioned that he could sing very creditably, and his talent was very often called into requisition in the evening. Ben was obliging, and, finding he could give pleasure, he generally complied with the request of the miners and rehearsed such songs as he knew, so that he was considered a decided acquisition by the little company, and his popularity was unbounded.

"I've been thinkin', Ben," said Bradley, one Sunday when they were taking a walk together, "that if there was any offices to be filled you'd stand a good show of bein' elected."

"What makes you think so, Jake?"

"You're the most popular man in the camp—leastways, boy."

"I can easily believe that, Jake, as I am the only boy."

"Well, there's no one ahead of you, man or boy."

"I am glad if that is so," said Ben, modestly. "It is chiefly because I am a boy."

"Boys are not always popular. It depends a good deal on the kind of boy."

So the reader will get some idea of Ben's life at the mines and the estimation in which he was held by his comrades. It was not very exciting nor very eventful, but there was to be a change.

One day his pick struck something hard. It might be a rock which would need to be removed. He dug round it patiently, but when he wished to lift it after it was loosened, he found it necessary to summon Bradley to his assistance.

"Why, Ben!" exclaimed Bradley, in excitement, "this isn't a rock; it is a nugget, and a bouncer."

"'A nugget'!" repeated Ben, incredulously.

"Yes; look here!" and Bradley pointed out the indubitable signs of its value. "Yes, Ben, your fortune has come at last."

"How much is it worth?" demanded Ben, almost breathless with excitement and exhilaration.

"How much? Three thousand dollars at least."

"Then I can go home."

"Yes, Ben, you're got your pile."

It may as well be stated here that Bradley's guess was not far out of the way. The nugget, when it reached San Francisco, was found to amount to three thousand seven hundred dollars.

To the credit of the miners of Golden Gulch, it must be said that all rejoiced in Ben's success. No one's good luck would have excited so little envy or jealousy as that of the boy who had worked by their side for months, and done so much by his good-humor and musical gifts to cheer up and entertain them. When he was ready to start for the city on his homeward journey all joined in wishing him a pleasant journey and the best of luck in the years to come.

Ben was not obliged to travel alone. Bradley decided not only to accompany him to San Francisco, but to sail to New York in his company.

"I've never seen York," he said, "and I never shall see it if I don't go now. So, if you don't mind, Ben, I'll go along with you."

"Mind, Jake? There's nothing I shall like better."

While they are on the steamer homeward bound events have transpired in Ben's old home which require to be noted.

CHAPTER XXXI.

JOB STANTON'S MISTAKE

There had not been many changes in the little town of Hampton since Ben left it. It was one of those quiet New England villages where life moves slowly, and a death or a marriage is an event.

Uncle Job still lived in his plain little cottage with his wife and daughter, and still plied his humble task as the village cobbler, essaying sometimes to make shoes when there were none to be repaired. There was a plat of land belonging to his house rather more than an acre in extent, but land was cheap in Hampton, and it is doubtful whether both house and lot would have brought, if thrown into the market, over one thousand dollars. Uncle Job had at one time about a hundred dollars in the savings bank in a neighboring town—a fund to draw from in an emergency—and this money with his plain home constituted his entire wealth.

Eleven hundred dollars all told! It was not a very brilliant result for forty years' labor, beginning with the days of his boyhood; but Job Stanton was not ambitious, and he actually felt well-to-do. He earned enough to supply the simple wants of his family, and had something over, and this satisfied him.

But one day a strong temptation came to Job Stanton, and he yielded to it.

A trader came riding over from a neighboring town and called on Uncle Job. The good man thought he had come to order a new pair of shoes, and felt flattered that such a dashing man should have gone so far out of his way to patronize him.

"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Richmond," he said. "Won't you set down?"

He should have said sit, but Job Stanton's educational advantages had been very limited.

"I don't care if I do. Snug place you've got here, Mr. Stanton."

"It's very plain and humble, but it's home, and I set by it," answered Job, who was busily engaged in tapping a shoe belonging to Eliphalet Nourza, a farm-laborer.

"I've come over to see you on a little business, Mr. Stanton," said the trader, affably.

"Jest so!" returned Uncle Job cheerfully, glancing over his spectacles at the trader's shoes to see if they looked much worn. "Want a pair of new shoes, I reckon?"

"I shall need a new pair soon," said Richmond, "but that isn't exactly what I meant."

It flashed across Job Stanton's mind that his visitor might be going to make him an offer for the old place, but he felt that he could not bear to part with it. He had lived there ever since he was married, thirty-five years ago, and there Jennie, the child of his old age, had been born.

But the trader's next sentence relieved him of this thought.

"The fact is, Uncle Job," proceeded the trader, adopting the title by which the shoemaker was generally known in Hampton, "I've got a favor to ask of you."

"'A favor to ask of me'?" repeated Job, looking up with some surprise at the well-dressed merchant, who seemed by his presence to honor the homely little shop.

"Yes," continued Richmond, with gravity; "I want you to indorse my note for five hundred dollars."

"What made you come to me?" asked Job Stanton in surprise. "I am not a capitalist; I am a poor man."

"Oh, well, you're good for five hundred dollars."

"Yes," answered Job with some complacency; "my place here is worth twice that, let alone the money I've got in the savings bank."

"Of course it is."

"Still, I don't want to run no risk. You'd better go to some moneyed man—like Major Sturgis, for instance."

"Why, the fact is, Uncle Job, it's the major that lets me have the money on my note, but he stipulated that I should have an indorser, and he particularly mentioned you."

"That's cur'us!" said Job. "Why should he think of me?"

"Oh, he knew you were a reliable man."

"How does it happen that you need money?" asked Job, bluntly. "Isn't your business good?"

"That's just it," said Richmond, glibly. "It's so good that I've got to extend my stock, and that takes money. I'm turning money over all the time, and it won't be long before I am able to retire."

"I'm glad of that, but I don't quite understand, if that's so, why you're short of funds."

"It's clear you are not a business-man," said Richmond, laughing, "but I think I can explain to you how it is."

He did explain, and the explanation seemed very plausible, yet Job Stanton, who was a cautious man, hesitated.

This brought the trader to his closing argument: "You mustn't think, Uncle Job, that I expect this service for nothing. I am ready to pay you ten dollars for the accommodation, and to order a pair of shoes at your own price."

"That's handsome!" said Job; "and all I've got to do is to sign my name?"

"Just so. It's a mere formality. I shall have the money to pay the note twice over before it comes due."

"Then I wonder the major wants an indorser."

"Oh, it's his invariable custom. 'I know it isn't necessary, Mr. Richmond,' he told me, 'but it's my rule, and I won't break over it, even in your case. If you will get Job Stanton to indorse for you, it will be perfectly satisfactory. I know he is a poor man, but then it's only a form.'"

"Well, I don't know," said Job, doubtfully. "If Ben was here I would ask him."

"You mean your nephew, don't you?"

"Yes, the boy that went to California."

"I'm glad you mentioned him. As soon as he gets back send him to me and I'll give him a place in my store. I've heard he's very smart."

"So he is," said Job, "and I'd like to have him with you, so that he could come to see us once in a while. There ain't no openin' in Hampton."

"Of course not."

"And you'll give Ben a place when he gets home?"

"Certainly; that is, if you indorse my note. I am ready to pay you the ten dollars down."

He drew a crisp bank-note for ten dollars from his pocket, and Job Stanton yielded, for it was a great deal of money to him. I think, however, that he was more influenced by the prospect of obtaining a good place for Ben that would keep him from wandering farther away from home. If he had been shrewder, it would have occurred to him that a prosperous business-man, such as Richmond claimed to be, was unusually anxious for a small accommodation. However, to him five hundred dollars represented a large sum, and it didn't seem at all strange.

So Uncle Job took off his leather apron, ushered his visitor into the sitting-room, and sitting down at the table indorsed the note.

"Thank you," said Richmond. "Here is the ten."

"I don't know as I ought to ask you so much," said Job, with conscientious scruples.

"Oh, that's all right. Now, I'll go into the shop, and you may take my measure for a pair of shoes."

"This has been a lucky day for me," thought Job Stanton. "I've got ten dollars for writing my name, and it isn't often I earn as much as that in a week."

The trader seemed equally pleased, and the two parted in mutual good spirits.

The note was for three months, or ninety days, and Job Stanton thought no more about it. Why should he? Richmond had expressly told him that it was a mere form, and he supposed that this was the case. The ten dollars went to buy new dresses—not very expensive, of course—for his wife and Jennie, and that seemed to be the end of it.

But Job was destined to be undeceived, and that very rudely.

One day he was surprised by a call from his dignified fellow-townsman, Major Sturgis.

"Good-morning, Mr. Stanton," said the major, condescendingly.

"Good-morning, major. I hope your family are quite well."

"Quite well, I thank you."

"What's he come about?" thought Job, wonderingly.

"You indorsed a note for Richmond, the dry-goods man, three months since."

"So I did. Is it really three months?"

"Close upon it, Mr. Stanton. I regret to say that I shall be obliged to call upon you to pay it."

"Me! to pay it!" ejaculated Uncle Job, thunderstruck. "Why, I only indorsed it."

"Precisely. That means that you are to pay it if Richmond doesn't."

"But he will pay it," said the poor shoemaker, eagerly. "He said it was only a matter of form."

"Then he deceived you. I have just received a note from him telling me to look to you."

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE HOUSE IS MORTGAGED

Job Stanton would not have been more utterly overwhelmed if he had seen his treasured home reduced to ashes before his eyes. That he should be responsible for a debt of five hundred dollars seemed to him almost incredible. The trader's representation that indorsing the note was only a matter of form he had accepted as strictly true.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked the major, impatiently.

"'Goin' to do about it'?" ejaculated Job.

"Certainly. When a man indorses a note he knows that he may be called upon to pay, and of course has some plan for doing it."

"I don't know what to do," said the poor shoemaker, sadly. "I can't pay the note."

"Humph! There seems to be only one thing to do, then."

"What is it?"

"You must sell or mortgage your place."

"What! sell or mortgage my house? I can't do that, Major Sturgis."

"Very well. I won't insist on it if you can pay the note in any other way."

"Heaven knows I can't."

"Then, Mr. Stanton," said the major, sharply, "it's time to speak plainly. Unless you do as I suggest, I shall attach your property and compel you to raise the money in the way I indicate."

Job Stanton was mortally afraid of legal proceedings, and after a while he acceded to the major's proposal, which was himself to accept a mortgage for the sum of five hundred dollars secured upon the place. His wife, who had to be told, wept bitterly, for it seemed to her as if they were parting with their main reliance. But Major Sturgis carried his point, and walked off triumphant.

And now for the major's motive, for he had one, and he had artfully made use of Richmond to forward his plan: He was desirous of getting possession of the poor shoemaker's house and land, having in view the purchase of the lot adjoining. Then he would move the house off, throw down the fence between the two lots, build a nice dwelling, and rent it to a city friend who wished to spend his summers in Hampton. He knew very well that Job Stanton wouldn't listen to a proposition for selling his house, and he therefore tried to accomplish by stratagem what he could not fairly.

"Pa, you are looking in good spirits," said Sam Sturgis when his father came home.

"I don't feel so," said the major, hypocritically. "I have had to do a very disagreeable thing this morning."

"What was it?" Sam asked, his curiosity being excited.

"Mr. Richmond the trader owed me a note for five hundred dollars, indorsed by Job Stanton, and as he did not pay it, I had to call on Stanton."

"He couldn't pay—he's too poor," said Sam.

"Not in money, but he owns his place. I have accepted a mortgage for six months' time on his house and lot."

"Suppose he doesn't pay when the time comes?"

"I am afraid I shall have to foreclose the mortgage."

"And he'll have to leave, won't he?"

"Unless he can raise the money some other way."

"There isn't any other way, is there?"

"Richmond might hand over the money by that time."

"Do you think he will?"

"He ought to, but I don't think there is much chance of it."

"Ben will be rather astonished when he comes home and finds his uncle has lost his place."

"Yes, I suppose he will."

"I sha'n't be sorry for him. He puts on a good many airs, considering how poor he is. I wish I knew how he is getting along in California."

"He may get a living there, but that is about all," said the major. "I shouldn't be at all surprised if his uncle came to me for money to get him home."