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ROOM [18] in which we have introduced Vance Gilder to the reader, in
the home overlooking Central Park, had been his from childhood, and
furnished by his father in its present luxurious style, as a reward for
his devotion to the profession of journalism.
His father had invested his income in real estate, and in the lapse of
years found himself possessed of a fortune many times greater than he
had ever anticipated. He traveled a great deal over the west, and at
Gold Bluff, Idaho, he found in Ben Bonifield, the owner of Gray Rocks, a
playmate of his youth.
Ben Bonifield had staked out a claim which he called “Gray Rocks,”
and had worked away for several years with pick and shovel, believing
that some day he would “strike it rich”—and from the output
of other mining properties in that vicinity, it seemed as if his
expectations might be realized some day.
He deeded a half interest in his mine to the elder Gilder, in
consideration of certain moneys advanced him to develop the property.
This one investment was the only one that Mr. Gilder ever made outside
of New York [19] City, and it is quite probable that in making this one
it was not so much an investment as a desire to assist his boyhood’s
friend. The deed which Ben Bonifield gave had been duly recorded, but in
his travels on the Pacific coast he had in some way mislaid it, and on
his return to New York City he had died without ever having mentioned
the matter to his son. When his father died, Vance was bowed down with
grief, while the old Scotch house-keeper and her husband could not have
mourned more sincerely had the elder Gilder been related by the nearest
ties of blood.
Vance found his father had not only left a fortune, but also a will. The
date of this instrument showed that it was executed during the months
of their estrangement, and had never been changed. The important part of
the will, for this narrative, was a clause limiting Vance to an annuity
of $5,000, provided he remained at the old homestead and gave employment
and a home to the Scotch house-keeper and her husband; but the title to
the vast property which he owned was not to pass into his custody until
he was forty years of age.
To the credit of the son, it can be said that he entertained no enmity
towards his father because of this provision, but regarded it as simple
justice. In the meantime, he devoted himself with more energy than ever
to his profession, was economical in his habits, and had the consolation
of knowing that he was being advanced from time to time on the Banner,
until he was now regarded as one of the most trusted men on that great
journal.
To be a member of the Banner staff of newsgatherers was a position to
be envied by those similarly employed on less imposing journals. His
associates—the city [20] editor, the religious editor, the
dramatic critic, the police reporter, and the heads of several other
departments—were in the habit of discussing the topics of the times
from a strictly democratic standpoint, with the regularity with which
day follows night.
The “old man,” or managing editor, could not take a deeper
interest in the columns of the Banner than did his faithful coterie
of assistants. The managing editor prided himself on his ability to
recognize and command intellectual forces.
With the breaking of the dawn anew paper, filled with news deftly
gathered from the four corners of the earth, was ushered into life,
teeming with the world’s history of a day, to be discussed by the
banker, the politician, and the professional and non-professional
classes over the breakfast-table. Each issue was a daily history
possessing a soul and character distinctly its own, which collectively
made up the policy of one of the greatest journals of New York City.
Before high noon of each day a newspaper has generally served its
purpose—dies; is a thing of the past, and the record of events found
in its columns becomes ancient history.
The following morning at ten o’clock, agreeable to his promise,
Vance Gilder was at the Murray Hill Hotel, and sent up his card to Ben
Bonifield. Instead of receiving in his room, the old gentleman joined
Vance in the lobby. He was a typical character—once seen, never
forgotten. An old Virginian by birth and education, he still retained
the courtly polish of one of the southern aristocracy, which many years
of mining life had not been able to wholly destroy. In stature he was
fully six feet, and rather portly; his oval face was smooth-shaven, save
an [21] iron-gray moustache. He wore his hair rather long, and the rim
of his black felt hat was broad as a sombrero. His Prince Albert coat
of broad-cloth was of old-time date, and suggested a revival of ancient
gentility.
“Glad to see yo’, suh; am delighted to meet a son of my old friend,
Colonel Gilder.”
0029
He clasped Vance’s hand warmly, and his face was full of sympathy as
he referred to the recent information he had received concerning Mr.
Gilder’s death. They [22] soon found seats in a retired corner of the
lobby, and after assuring Vance that he had entirely recovered from his
recent illness, the old gentleman plunged into business.
“Yo’ know, of cou’se, that yo’r father owned a one-half interest
in Gray Rocks?”
“No, I was not aware of the fact until your daughter named it to me
yesterday,” replied Vance.
“Yo’ su’prise me, suh, yo’ really do,” said the old miner,
“but it is true, nevertheless, and the deed is on record; and what is
mo’, suh, Gray Rocks is destined to be the richest gold mine in
Idaho. Yo’ see, I have been workin’ away on Gray Rocks for seven
years—kep’ right at it, winter an’ summer, and while I have not
‘struck it’ yet, I am positive, suh, that if I had a little mo’
money to push the work, my most sanguine expectations would be mo’
than re’lized. We are now on the 200 foot level, but it seems, suh, it
is not deep enough. A most wonderful showin’, in my opinion, suh, will
be made when the 300 foot level is reached, and we have cross-cut into
the vein.”
“I am not very well versed in regard to mining, in fact know next to
nothing about it, but of course, as I am a half owner in a gold mine, I
am naturally interested in having it developed.”
“Well, suh,” said the old gentleman, “yo’ see I am. I know all
about mines. Yes, suh, I assure yo, on my honor, that I can tell ‘pay
dirt’ as far as I can see it, suh, if I am sixty-five years old, Yo’
see, suh,” continued the old miner, “let us suppose this table is
the top of the mountain. Now, where I place this ink-stand, is Gray
Rocks; just beyond, here where I lay this pen-stalk, is the Peacock
mine. It joins us directly on the nawth. The [23] Excelsior is at this
point, where I lay my eye-glasses, directly south of Gray Rocks. Both
of them, suh, are payin’ immense dividends, and befo’ a year, with
proper management, Gray Rocks will be doin’ the same. When he learned,
suh, that I only had a half interest, he refused to talk with me any
mo’ about it. He said he wanted all or none. Confidentially, Mr.
Gilder, I consider old Grim the most ill-mannered man in the Fish River
minin’ district, and us miners, suh, usually form a pretty correct
idea of mankind in gene’l. I have been minin’ it now fo’ over
thirty years, and while I have never ‘struck it’ yet, I assure yo’
on my word, suh, that I have mo’ confidence in Gray Rocks to-day than
ever befo’.”
“Of course, Col. Bonifield,” said Vance, “I know nothing about
your technical expressions of ‘sinking-shafts,’ ‘cross-cutting,’
and all that sort of thing, but I remember now of my father speaking of
you on several occasions, and I doubt not, if he were living, he would
gladly assist you in any way in his power. Personally, my means are
limited, but if your wants are not too great, I will gladly give you my
assistance.”
“Give me yo’re hand, suh! Why, Mr. Gilder, yo’re a gentleman that
I’m proud to meet, suh.
“What we must do, suh, is to sink the shaft on Gray Rocks to a 300
foot level, and we will cross-cut into a vein of wealth, suh, that
will make yo’ rich as a Vanterbilt. Yes, suh; take my word fo’ it.
Now,” he continued, “there is old Grim; he owns a majority of the
stock in the Peacock, and he wanted to buy out Gray Rocks, but [24] of
the old school, belonging to one of the oldest and proudest families of
Virginia—yes, suh. Now, you have a half interest in Gray Rocks, and
if yo’ can furnish the money, Mr. Gilder, to sink the shaft to the 300
foot level, I will go back to Gold Bluff and immediately commence the
work—and mind, Mr. Gilder, I give yo’ my word that yo’ will
never lose a dollar; no, suh, Gray Rocks is a sure winner. The claim is
patented and our title is perfect; but we must do mo’, suh; we must
sink our shaft, and it costs money to sink shafts, and a pow’ful sight
of hard work into the bargain, suh. I came to New York especially to see
yo’re father and have him help me by advancin’ a little mo’ money.
He paid me $1,000, suh, fo’ a half interest in Gray Rocks. I told him,
and I tell yo’ now, it will bring yo’ a million. Yes, suh, I pledge
yo’ my word it will.”
The old gentleman’s words, his enthusiasm, his southern courtliness,
and his unmistakable belief in Gray Rocks, carried Vance quite away, in
anticipation of his half-ownership in a gold mine. He mentally computed
the amount of money he had in the bank, and felt that he would willingly
check out his last half-dollar to sink the shaft on Gray Rocks to a 300
foot level.
He had to his credit in the Chemical National Bank some fifteen thousand
dollars, and finally ventured to ask about how much it would take to do
the work.
“Why, yo’ see, suh,” replied the old miner, “the mo’ a fellow
has, the quicker he can sink a shaft. Now, I could get along at present
with, say $1,500, but $2,000 would be betteh, and $2,500 would be a
great plenty.”
“Very well,” replied Vance, “I’ll advance you $2,500, and can
bring it to you within a couple of hours.”
[25] The old gentleman was highly delighted with Vance’s ready
acquiescence in the matter, and shook his hand warmly, assuring him that
he was a very true Virginian. Taking his leave, he quitted the hotel,
and in less than two hours paid to Col. Bonifield $2,500.
The old gentleman was very urgent for Vance to remain and lunch with
him.
“My Louise, suh,” he said, “will be delighted to see yo’.
8033
Now, suh, there’s one girl in a thousand. I call her a diamond in the
rough, suh. She stays by the old man, and has just as much faith in the
ultimate outcome of Gray Rocks as I have, I sometimes think, suh, that
I ought not to keep her away so far from civil’zation, so to speak,
among the mountains; but she says, ‘We will wait until we strike
it.’ I assure yo’, suh, she is a wonderful comfort to me.”
Vance endeavored to persuade the old gentleman to bring his daughter and
stop at his house for a few days, but the old miner explained that his
stay could not be prolonged; that he was impatient to begin work on
the mine, sinking the shaft to the 300 foot level, and then commence
cross-cutting. He insisted that he must start for Gold Bluff by the
evening train.
Ascending to the ladies’ parlor, Vance waited until the old miner
brought his daughter to bid him good-bye. As she came into the room on
the arm of her stately father, Vance had hard work to convince himself
that such a queenly girl as stood before him could have grown to such
loveliness among the mountains of the northwest.