door for the picking up, he built a fire so bright that it lit up the laughing little stream through the open door.
He went out, washed his hands and face in the cool water, took a refreshing drink, returned to his cabin, closed the door, and dined heartily on cookies and cheese which the gruff but kind old captain had made him put in his pocket on leaving the boat.
Our young gold-hunter slept soundly. He was now “an honest miner,” with cabin, bunk, tools, claim,—all things, indeed, but gold. Was the gold there in the ground, down on the bedrock, deep under the big mossy boulders? He would soon see.
With sleeves rolled above his elbows, and with bare feet, he wrought and he wrestled till nearly sundown. Not a “color,” although he struck the hard, blue bed-rock in many places, that first day.
He climbed out of his claim, very tired and hungry, but not disheartened. The water had sung pleasantly to him all day. Beautiful wild flowers had leaned out from the bank, as if to comfort him in his solitude. The great solemn pines sang their mighty monotone in the warm winds of the sierras high over his head, and it made him think pleasantly of the pine woods of home.
He had passed by a small grocery-store the evening before, a mile or so down the stream. Thither he now returned, after arranging his tattered raiment as best he might, and laid his case before the bearded Missourian who kept the “store.” As the Missourian was both kind and anxious to see work resumed at the deserted diggings, he readily let Larison have “on tick? what he timidly asked for—a cod-fish and two pounds of crackers.
Next day the same song of the pines, the same sweet flowers leaning from the banks of the tumbling little stream, the same strenuous toil, too,— but not a color of gold!
The lad was growing dizzy as he leaned over to strike a few last blows in the depths of a crevice of the bed-rock which he had been following all day without even a color to encourage him. His pick sank deep,—deeper than ever before,—and the clear water took on a dirty clay hue. He leaned over, took a handful of this dirty yellow stuff from the point of his pick, and was about to throw it behind him and strike again, when he saw something glitter in his hand. He stooped to the water, and saw—“ Gold! gold! gold!”
It did not take long to let the water wash the clay away as it ran gurgling down the crevice. Before it was yet fairly night the hungry man had nearly filled with gold dust a little pint cup which he found in the cabin.
But it was clear that this was only a “pocket.” If he had had half a day still before him, he would have been able to scoop it out and turn his back on it all; in which case this story would not have been written.
The resolute boy had those dependent on him far away who were very dear. They would need all the gold. And then it was only one more day at furthest. He would remain to get all. With this resolution and a light heart, although a heavy step, he tottered down to the store. He would not—he could not—leave his gold behind him. He went his way, thinking all the time what he would have to eat on his return.
Ham! Ham and onions! Fried ham and onions! That was what he would have. He almost ran as he neared the store.
Four men were playing cards at a table as he came in. Two others lay on benches, asleep. The return tide of the stampede had set in, and men were not nearly so scarce in the camp as before. Larison let bis gold sink deep down in his pocket.
He found the bearded Missourian behind his counter, and asked to pay his bill. The store-keeper seemed to have forgotten him. But after looking him in the face for a while, he said: “Oh, yes, yes! I remember you now. Let me see what it was you got.”
Turning around to the wall he put bis finger on a number of little dots and spots. These were for Larison’s name; for the storekeeper could not read. Under the spots and dots were the tail of a fish and the outline of a cracker, with four little marks below.
“I also want a ham and a pound of crackers—a whole ham. I'm hungry, And I want onions—a pound of onions!”
The storekeeper handed over the ham, tied up the crackers, and took the gold and weighed