TOM RECEIVES NEWS FROM HOME.
Meanwhile Tom, happily unconscious that the money entrusted to John
Miles had been lost, continued to work diligently at his claim. His
success varied from day to day; but, on the whole, he was gaining. He
spent nothing except for absolute necessities, and in spite of all
temptations he gave a wide berth to Missouri Jack's saloon. In this way
he gained the ill-will of the saloon-keeper, who felt a certain portion
of every miner's gains ought to find its way into his till.
One evening Tom met the saloon-keeper when out walking. The latter had
not at that time given up securing Tom's patronage.
"Good-evening, young feller," said Jack.
Tom answered the greeting politely.
"Why don't you come round to the saloon evenings? We always have a jolly
crowd there. After a hard day's work it'll do you good to take a social
glass."
"I would rather not drink, thank you," said Tom.
"You ain't afraid of a little drink, I hope, are you?"
"Yes, I would rather let it alone."
"Oh, you're too good to live," said Jack, in deep disgust.
"I hope not," answered Tom, smiling; "for I hope to live a good many
years."
That was the last attempt Missouri Jack made to secure Tom as a patron.
Our hero spoke in so decided a tone that he understood the uselessness
of the attempt.
Two months passed, and Tom heard nothing from John Miles. He was not
surprised or disquieted, for he knew that mails to the interior were
very irregular, and, besides, Miles might not be fond of letter-writing.
He took it for granted that the seventy-five dollars had been forwarded
home, and were now in his father's hands. He had saved as much more, and
would like to have sent that too, for its possession gave him anxiety;
but there seemed to be no opportunity.
About this time he received two letters. The first was from John Miles,
written from San Francisco. After acquainting Tom with his loss of the
bag of gold-dust, he proceeded:--
"I should not have cared so much, Tom, had the loss been mine only; but
it was hard to think that I had lost your money too, and was unable to
pay it back. I know, from what you said, that your father needed the
money, and that the delay would put him to a good deal of inconvenience.
You shall have it all back, Tom, every cent; but you will have to wait
awhile. On reaching Frisco I got work, and soon saved up enough to pay
the debt, when, as bad luck would have it, I fell sick, and before I got
well all my money had been used up. Now I am well again, and at work,
and if I have good luck will be able soon to send on the money to your
father. I know you will understand the circumstances, and will excuse
the delay.
"The very day I discovered my loss I had a chance to marry a fortune.
You will stare at that, and wonder how it happened. At a lonely cabin I
made the acquaintance of a widow, who was looking out for a second
husband. She was left with a comfortable property, which, with her hand,
she was willing to bestow upon your friend; but she didn't tempt me
much. I believe her fortune amounted to five thousand dollars and a
claim. It would be a good chance for you, if you were old enough, Tom.
"I don't know when this letter will reach you, for the country mails--at
least to such out-of-the-way places as River Bend--go quite irregularly.
However, I hope you will get it after a while, and won't be too much
troubled about the money; if I live it shall be repaid."
Tom showed this letter to Ferguson.
"It's a pity, my lad, that the money was stolen," said the Scotchman;
"but you'll get it again. John Miles is an honest man."
"I am sure of that, Mr. Ferguson. I don't know that I ought to make him
pay it back, though. It isn't his fault that it was lost."
"That's true, my lad, and you might offer to share the loss with him,
but I doubt if he would accept your offer. He will feel better to pay it
all back."
"At any rate I will write him, and make him the offer."
"That's fair, Tom; but you'll see what he'll say."
It may be stated here that Miles utterly declined to accept any
abatement of the debt.
"I ought to have taken better care of the money," he said. "It's my
fault, and I shall pay it in full."
The next letter was from home. Tom opened and read it eagerly. It was
mainly from his father, but there was a note from each member of the
family.
His father wrote:--
MY DEAR TOM,--We are glad to hear that you have reached
California after a wearisome journey, and are now at work. We
have travelled so little that we can hardly realize that you are
more than three thousand miles away from us, with so many
mountains, plains, and valleys between. Of course you cannot tell
us much in your letters of your various experiences. I wish we
could have you with us this evening, and hear some of them from
your own lips.
I am anxious to hear that you are succeeding in the object of
your journey, and that you will not find the stories of the rich
gold fields greatly exaggerated. I do not myself believe all I
hear, yet I think there must be gold enough to pay those who
search for it diligently. You must remember, my dear boy, that
hard work is better than luck, and more to be relied upon. Don't
expect to make your fortune all at once by finding a big nugget,
but work steadily, and you will meet with more or less success.
If you succeed moderately, I shall be glad you went away, for
here prospects are not very good. Our little farm seems to be
less productive every year. The soil is not very good, as you
know, and I cannot afford fertilizers. This year the crops were
not as good as usual, and we have felt the decrease sensibly. If
there were not a mortgage on the farm, I could get along very
well, but the interest now amounts to one hundred and thirty-two
dollars annually, and it is hard to get that amount together.
Next month sixty-six dollars come due, and I don't know how I am
to find the money. Squire Hudson could afford to wait; but I am
afraid he won't. The older and richer he gets, the more grasping
he becomes, I sometimes think. However, I don't want to borrow
trouble. If it is absolutely necessary I can sell off one of the
cows to raise the money, and before the year comes round I think
you will be able to help me.
Walter, though only twelve years old,--his thirteenth birthday
comes next month,--helps me about the farm, and is very useful in
doing chores. He likes farm-work, and will be ready to succeed me
in time. As for Sarah, she is a good, sensible girl, and helps
her mother in a good many ways. Though I am a poor man, and
always expect to remain so, I feel that I am blessed in having
good, industrious children, who promise to grow up and do me
credit. I should not be willing to exchange one of my boys for
Squire Hudson's son Sinclair. He is, to my mind, a very
disagreeable boy, who makes himself ridiculous by the airs he
puts on. I have seen him once or twice lately when he appeared to
have been drinking; but I hope I am mistaken in this. He is an
only son, and it would be a pity that he should go astray.
Tom looked thoughtful after reading this letter.
"Is it bad news, Tom, lad?" asked Ferguson.
"Times are hard at home, Mr. Ferguson," answered Tom. "Father is very
much in need of money. It would have been a great help to him if he had
received that seventy-five dollars."
"You have as much as that on hand now, Tom. If it isn't enough, I will
lend you some."
"Thank you, Mr. Ferguson. You are a good friend, and I wouldn't mind
accepting your offer, if I needed it. But father won't need any more
than I can send him. Only I don't know how to get it to him."
"If you were in San Francisco, you would have no difficulty in sending
the money."
"No."
"I've been thinking, Tom," said Ferguson, after a while, "that it might
be a good plan for us to take a little vacation, and visit the city. We
have been working steadily here over three months, and the change would
do us good. Besides, we might on the way come across some better place.
This isn't as good now as when we began to work it."
"That is true," said Tom.
"Suppose, then, we stay a week longer, sell out our claim if we can,
and start in the direction of the city."
"You and I?"
"Yes; we shall be better off without company."
"We had better not let Peabody know we are going, or he will want to
accompany us."
"I could almost be willing to take him, poor creature, to get him away
from that Missouri Jack; but, as you say, he would not be a help to us."
So it was decided that, in a few days, as soon as they were ready, Tom
and Ferguson should leave River Bend.