Two Boy Gold Miners; Or, Lost in the Mountains Read online

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  Two Boy Gold Miners

  Or, Lost in the Mountains

  BY FRANK V. WEBSTER

  AUTHOR OF "THE BOY FROM THE RANCH," "BOB THE CASTAWAY," "THE NEWSBOYPARTNERS," "ONLY A FARM BOY," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED

  NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY PUBLISHERS

  Copyright, 1909, by CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  TWO BOY GOLD MINERS

  Printed in U. S. A.

  "It was burning fiercely, in spite of the drenchingrain"]

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. HARD TIMES 1

  II. AFTER THE RUNAWAY 10

  III. THE GOLD MINER 18

  IV. A CURIOUS STORY 26

  V. MORE HARD LUCK 34

  VI. THE GOLD STRIKE 42

  VII. OFF FOR THE WEST 51

  VIII. THE BUCKING BRONCO 58

  IX. AFTER BIG GAME 66

  X. IN THE RAPIDS 74

  XI. CAUGHT IN A STORM 83

  XII. AT THE GOLD FIELDS 90

  XIII. ON A NEW TRAIL 95

  XIV. THE MARSHAL INTERFERES 103

  XV. THEIR FIRST GOLD 110

  XVI. LOST 118

  XVII. CORNERED BY A BEAR 126

  XVIII. FINDING THE NUGGETS 133

  XIX. CON MORTON APPEARS 139

  XX. PURSUED 145

  XXI. WHAT HAPPENED TO GABE 162

  XXII. STAKING THEIR CLAIMS 169

  XXIII. CHEERLESS PROSPECTS 186

  XXIV. LOSING THE FARM 194

  XXV. THE WELCOME LETTER--CONCLUSION 200

  TWO BOY GOLD MINERS

  CHAPTER I

  HARD TIMES

  "What's the matter, Enos?" asked a rather elderly and careworn lookingwoman, as she stood in the kitchen door of a small farmhouse.

  The man to whom she had spoken was gazing up at the sky. His clotheswere patched in places, the trousers so much so that there seemed to bevery little of the original material left. He did not appear to hear hiswife's question, so she repeated it.

  "What's the matter, Enos? What are you looking up at the sky that wayfor?"

  "I was looking for a sign of rain, Debby. We need some terribly bad."

  "Do you see any?"

  "Nope. There isn't a cloud in sight, and the wind has hung in the eastfor nigh on to a week. Seems so it ought to bring a shower, but it don'tcome."

  "Things are pretty dry around here, aren't they, Enos?"

  "That's what they are, Debby, and if they don't get wet soon I don'tknow what we're going to do."

  "Is it as bad as that?"

  "It's liable to be. The potatoes won't amount to much, and the corn isjust shriveling up with the heat. There'll be a short crop of everythingbut weeds, I'm thinking."

  "I wouldn't worry, Enos, if I was you. Maybe things will come out allright."

  "How can they, Debby, if we don't get rain? Things can't grow unlessthey get some moisture, and we haven't had a drop going on four weeksnow. I declare, farming is the hardest kind of a life, I don't care whatthe books say!"

  "Well, we'll have to do the best we can, I suppose," said the woman,with a sigh, as she went back into the house.

  "What's the matter, mother?" asked a tall, pretty girl, who was washingthe breakfast dishes. "You look worried."

  "I am, Nettie."

  "What about?"

  "Everything; but your father in particular."

  "Is he sick, mother?"

  "No; but he's fretting himself to death because there isn't any rain,and he's afraid the crops will be ruined."

  "That would be too bad."

  "Yes; times are hard enough as it is, without having a short crop ofeverything. We depended on a good season this year to finish paying offthe mortgage, but the way it looks now we'll be deeper in debt thanever. I declare! it's too bad, just as your father was getting on hisfeet, after a lot of bad luck, to have this dry spell come."

  The girl did not reply, but there came a more serious look on her prettyface. She was a farmer's daughter, and she knew what it meant if therewas a long period without rain.

  Enos Crosby, with his wife, his daughter Nettie and his two sons, Jedand Will, had a small farm near the town of Lockport, in one of themiddle Western States. Jed was the elder son, a good-humored lad, alwaysinclined to look on the bright sides of things. Will, the youngerbrother, was somewhat prone to be melancholy. His mother said it wasbecause he grew so fast; that he was always looking ahead and seeing howthings came out before they really happened. Though he was two yearsyounger than Jed, he was half a head taller, though not so strong.

  Mr. Crosby had tried for many years to make a living off the farm forhimself and his family. He had barely succeeded. Some years he saved alittle money, but, as soon as he did so, it went to help pay off themortgage, with which nearly every farm in that locality was saddled.Some years he fell behind, and had to borrow money to carry him throughthe winter.

  As Mr. Crosby stood in the little garden, at the side of the house, andcontinued to gaze up at the sky, he murmured:

  "Well, if we don't get rain by to-morrow night I don't know what we'lldo. Have to borrow some more money to get along with, I guess, for thecrops are practically ruined now. Still, a good soaking shower would doa world of good. I wonder how the boys are making out with theircultivating? Guess I'll take a walk over and see."

  In dry spells it is a practice of farmers to cultivate, or frequentlydig up, the soil around their corn, potatoes or such other crops asadmit of it. This pulverizing of the earth, in a measure, makes up forthe lack of rain.

  That morning Jed and Will had been sent to the big corn patch, which wasin a distant field, to work over the ground, and let a little air get tothe roots, so that the lack of rain might be offset. As Mr. Crosbystrolled over to the corn patch his mind was filled with many thoughts.

  "I wish I could find something else to do besides farming," he murmuredto himself. "It's a very uncertain way of making a living. Still, Isuppose it's all I'm fitted for. I don't know much about business, andmy folks have been farmers all their lives. But I never saw such hardtimes as we're having now. I wouldn't mind so much if it was me alone,but there's Nettie. She does want a piano terribly bad, so she can learnto play. She's real quick to learn. And Debby"--as he called his wife,Deborah--"she needs some new clothes, though she never complains aboutthe old ones."

  "I need some new ones myself, by the looks of these," he went on,glancing down at his much-patched trousers. "I guess Debby will be hardput to find any of the original pattern left to fasten a patch on. But Idon't mind. I wish I could give my boys a better education, though. Whatlittle schooling they get here in the winter ain't never going to putthem ahead very far. Well, I suppose there's no
help for it."

  He trudged on despondently, now and again casting anxious glancesupward, to see if there was not in the sky some little cloud that bore apromise of the much-needed rain. But the sun shone down hotter thanever.

  Meanwhile, Jed and Will were proceeding with their cultivating. Each onewas driving a horse attached to a small machine, the sharp teeth ofwhich cut through the dry, caked soil. The horses moved slowly along therows of corn, a cloud of dust hovering over them and the young farmers.

  "Hey, Will!" called Jed to his brother, whose head was some distanceabove the stunted cornstalks, "don't you feel like having an ice-creamsoda?"

  "Don't I, though? Say, Jed, quit talking like that, will you! My throatis all dry down inside, and my tongue is getting twice as thick as itought to be. Whew! But this dust is fierce! I guess it's forgotten howto rain."

  "Looks like it. But I'm going to have a drink, anyhow. Whoa, TabascoSauce! Stand still!"

  "Who you talking to?" asked Will, looking through the corn to where hisbrother was.

  "My horse, of course."

  "That's a queer name for him."

  "Well, Tabasco Sauce is the hottest stuff I know about, and I reckon myhorse is about the hottest thing around here, unless it's me. But don'tyou want a drink?"

  "What of? I don't care for creek water, and it's too far to go back tothe house."

  "Here's where I stand treat, and surprise you," went on Jed. "Come on.Your horse will stand without hitching."

  "I don't know about that. He's been acting queer, lately. He was quitefrisky when I started off ahead of you this morning, and tried to runaway."

  "You don't say so? Fancy Pete running away! Maybe you'd better tie him."

  "I will. There's a big stone here. But what are you going to drink? Itell you I won't touch that creek water. I don't believe it's good, thecreek's so low."

  "That's all right. Come on with me."

  Jed, whose horse showed no signs of straying away, left his steedstanding in the middle of a row of corn, while Will fastened Pete to abig boulder, by wrapping the reins around the stone. The elder brotherthen led the way to the creek, which bordered the corn field, andstriding to a spot where some weeping willow trees cast a cool shade, heplunged his hand down in a little pool, and drew up an earthen jug.

  "What do you say to that?" he asked.

  "Switchel?" inquired Will

  "That's what. I made a jug of it this morning when I knew we were comingover to this hot place. That's what made me late, and you got here aheadof me."

  "Well, pass it over. I'm as dry as a powder horn."

  "I'll take it first, if you don't mind," remarked Jed, with a smile."You're so tall, Lanky, that if you got to drinking, all there is in thejug might run down to your feet, and I'd get left."

  He laughed and, tilting up the jug, drank from the uncorked opening.Switchel, I may explain to my young readers, is a drink much used byfarmers, and those who have to work in hot fields often take a jug of italong, especially if they are far from good drinking water. It iscomposed of molasses, water and ginger, and has a pleasant taste.

  "Um! I feel better," remarked Jed as he passed the jug to his brother."Now, Bean-pole, don't take it all. That's got to last until noon, andthe day has only begun."

  "Don't worry. I won't take any more than you did."

  After the refreshing draught the two brothers rested for a moment in theshade of the willow trees.

  "Do you know, Will, I'm not much stuck on farming," remarked Jed slowly.

  "Me either. I don't mind hard work, but there doesn't seem to be much ofa prospect here."

  "You're right. Dad and all of us work hard, but it does not seem toamount to anything. Times are getting harder all the while and even theweather is against us."

  "It does seem so. But I suppose it would be just as bad if we were insome other business."

  "Maybe. I wish I could get out of here. I'd like to do something elsethan farm."

  "What would be your choice?"

  "Well," remarked Jed, slowly, while a smile appeared on his face thathad grown a bit serious, "I read about a tramp once that was looking fora contract to gather the blossoms on a century plant, that bloomed oncein a hundred years. I don't care for anything quite as slow as that, butI would like a job where I could make a bit of money, instead of alwayspaying up back debts."

  "Yes, poor dad has had bad luck. But maybe better times are coming."

  "I'm afraid not. But this isn't cultivating the corn, and, if we don'tdo that, I know there won't be any crop coming this fall. Let's get backto work."

  "Suppose we give the horses a drink," suggested Will.

  "They can't take switchel out of the jug. Besides, I don't believethey'd care for it."

  "Oh, you know what I mean!" exclaimed Will, who was not as fond of ajoke as was his older brother. "Let's lead 'em to the creek."

  They unhitched the animals, putting halters on them, and led the eagersteeds toward the inviting water. Whether it was the heat, or whether hedecided he had done enough work for one day was not made clear, but, nosooner did Will's horse, Pete, take one sip of the water, than he jerkedthe halter rope from the boy's hand, kicked up his heels and, with ashrill whinny, dashed away through the corn.