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ROM [70] Gold Bluff Vance sent to the Banner one of his strongest
descriptive letters. The inspiration of the new west, with its gorges,
mountains, beautiful valleys and gurgling streams abounding with trout,
tinged its every sentence.
His vivacious style, which had won for him the place he occupied on
the Banner, was reinforced with the new and intoxicating sights of
the picturesque. For two weeks he did little else than tramp through
valleys, following up mountain streams on fishing jaunts, and felt that
he was “roughing it” in a most delightful fashion. One night, coming
in from a long tramp far up in the mountains, he found a large bundle
of mail awaiting him that had been forwarded from Butte Citv. Among his
letters was one from the chief, which read as follows:
Banner Office,
New York City, July
Dear Sir:
Your letters to the Banner, in one sense of the word, are all and even
more than I expected. They are giving excellent satisfaction. As yet
you have expressed no decided opinion in regard to the desirability of
Western investments.
My ideas are to educate our readers against unstable investments. Nine
out of every ten of the mining shafts in Montana, [71] in my judgment,
have had more money put into them than ever has or ever will be taken
out. You will also find many Western towns where they are selling lots
at from one to two hundred dollars each, which, in reality, would be
expensive property to own at the government price of $1.25 per acre. Of
course, there are, perhaps, a few honorable exceptions.
To Vance Gilder, Esq.
Respectfully,
J. R. S., Chief.
When one is seeking an excuse for his convictions, especially if they
are as strong as Vance’s had become in regard to Butte City and
Waterville, the one little sentence, “Of course, there are, perhaps,
a few honorable exceptions,” in the chief’s letter saves him a
great deal of worry. Vance was too light hearted to be cast down by the
half-criticism of the class of correspondence he was sending in.
He had an engagement that evening with Louise Bonifield and her father;
indeed, his was a standing invitation at the Bonifields’, and almost
every afternoon since his arrival at Gold Bluff found him at their
mountain home.
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As he started from the hotel he was accosted by a familiar voice:
“Hello, pard; how d’ ye do?” and Steve Gibbons thrust out his
long arm to shake Vance’s hand in western fashion. He still wore his
sombrero and high-topped boots.
Vance assured Gibbons that he was delighted to see him.
“I knew you would be,” said Gibbons, “You see, I have given up
the real estate t [72] business clown at Waterville, and am turned stage
driver. Of course, every man in this ‘ere country is lookin’ for
promotion. I don’t reckon I’m any smarter than other people, but
I’ve had my eye on this job for several months; but you can bet your
life them other real estate agents didn’t know nothin’ about it.
I tell you, pardner, it’s a mighty elevatin’ position to drive a
six-horse team through these deep mountain gorges in all kinds of wind
and weather. Had to give a mighty stout bond, too, for we handle all the
express matter, and there’s a good deal of gold dust hauled down from
this ‘ere camp.”
Vance was glad to meet anyone, however slight the acquaintance had been,
and in the course of their conversation Steve Gibbons confessed to him
that he was “givin’ it to him just a leetle” in regard to the town
lots which Vance had purchased of the Town Company.
“You see,” said he, “the facts are, the Town Company of Waterville
has made that ‘ere town, and are still makin’ it. It’s a mighty
pert place, and is growin’ perter all the time.”
Vance mentally wondered if all the “honest intentioned” fellows of
Waterville would talk in the same way about the Town Company if they
were occupying positions where their interests were no longer adverse to
the Company’s.
“Then you don’t think I paid too much for my lots?” asked Vance,
looking up with a quizzical expression.
“No,” said Steve Gibbons, “them lots are all right, pardner, and
will make you a barrel if you hold on to ‘em. They sold ‘em to you
cheap enough. That was just a leetle competition talk I was givin’ you
that night down at Waterville. Business is business, you know, [73] when
you are sellin’ town lots, and a man has got to talk for hisself.
I really did want to sell you some lots, that’s a fact, ‘cause I
wanted to rake in the commission; but it’s all over with now. I have
throwed up the whole darned business of sellin’ lots since I was
promoted. Old Dick Ballard,” said he, “is jest as prima facie as
ever, and says his company is the finest drilled militia in the state.
By the way,” he continued, “the Town Company has had a meetin’,
and the people are feelin’ mighty good jess now’.”
“How’s that?” asked Vance.
“Oh,” replied Gibbons, “about once a month the Town Company have a
meetin’, and pass resolutions, declar’ dividends and get up a new’
prospectus of different manufacturin’ enterprises that’s goin’
to be built thar; also, of colleges and state institutions that will
be located at Waterville this comin’ year, and that always makes the
people feel high-spirited for the next week or ten days, anyhow. Most
of the people go on a spree after one o’ them encouragin’
meetin’s.”
“I presume,” said Vance, “that Homer Winthrop is one of the
leading spirits of the Company.”
“He is one of the Company,” said Gibbons, as he filled his pipe
and lit it, “but he lacks a good deal, I can tell you, of bein’ the
biggest toad in the puddle. There’s old Colonel Alexander, he’s
the fellow that lays out the plans on a gigantic scale. Then there’s
General Ira House. I ‘spect he has the biggest reputation of any town
boomer on the western half of the continent—I allow as what he has.
And when you’re talkin’ about smart ones, you don’t want to forget
B. Webster Legal; he’s the corporation attorney, and you can bet your
last [74] half dollar the company will never run agin’ any shoals as
long as he stands at the wheel and writes up contracts. Oh, he’s a
hummer, and no mistake.”
“It’s reported down thar’ that half a dozen different railroad
companies are tryin’ mighty hard to get him for their attorney, but
he saws, ‘Not much; I have cast my fortune with my friends and with
Waterville, and I’ll stick by the enterprise as long as a town lot can
be sold.’.rdquo;
“The Town Company is mighty cute,” he went on, “they never have
any law suits, ‘cause their contracts are drawn up with knots tied
knee deep all over the fellow they’re dealin’ with.”
It is probable that Steve Gibbons would have gone on indefinitely had
not Vance begged to be excused, pleading a previous engagement. They
bade each other good night, Gibbons starting for the stables to
look after his horses, and Vance walked leisurely along toward the
Bonifield’s home.
That afternoon Louise had accepted his invitation to go on a fishing
jaunt some day during the week to a place called Silver Point Lake, some
two miles away.
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Her simplicity of manner and frankness, though possessing, withal, a
demure humor, which was one of her charming characteristics, had greatly
fascinated him.
They were standing on the cottage porch in the soft summer twilight,
while a mountain breeze was tossing the ringlets of Louise’s hair
about, as if coquetting with them. Vance was studying her face while she
was looking far away toward the western [75] mountains, where the sun
had left a reddened glow on the sky, which, he said, was a promise of
fair weather for the fishing excursion the next day. Presently, a creaky
voice commenced calling:
“Louise! Louise! where is your par?” and before Vance’s fair
companion could explain, a woman well advanced in years came out on the
porch, and seemed surprised at seeing Vance, and eyed him critically.
“Aunt Sally,” said Louise, “this is Mr. Gilder, papa’s friend.
Mr. Gilder, this is my Aunt Sally, father’s sister.”
Aunt Sally acknowledged the introduction with a stately bow. Her apparel
was of the fashion of a quarter of a century ago.
“Am very glad to see you, suh,” she said, addressing Vance. “I
understand you are interested with my brother in his mine. I can give
you, Mr. Gilder, some very excellent advice; I can, indeed, suh, but
I will defer it until some other time.” Then turning to Louise, she
said, “Do you know where your par’s gone?”
“I do not,” replied Louise, sweetly, “I think he will be here in a
few moments.”
“I just allow he’s grub-stakin’ some of them pesky prospectin’
miners again,” cried Aunt Sally. “Mr. Gilder,” she continued, “I
have to watch over my brother very closely, I do, indeed, suh. He’s
been plantin’ money all over these mountains for many years, but
there’s no crop ever been harvested. I allow I’ll give him a
piece of my mind when he comes home.” Saying this, she turned and
disappeared into the house. Louise was evidently confused, and regretted
her aunt’s words, while Vance was at a loss to understand the import
of the spinster s remarks.
[76] “I am very sorry, Mr. Gilder,” said Louise—and he noticed she
was trembling like a frightened bird—“sorry that Aunt Sally should
so far forget herself as to speak so before a stranger.”
0084
Vance declared there was no reason for being disturbed, but Louise was
not wholly reassured by his words. “I know papa will be very angry
with Aunt Sally.”
“There surely is no cause for that,” replied Vance.
[77] “You see,” said Louise, “mamma died when Virginia and I were
little girls, and Aunt Sally has been a mother to us. Ever since papa
commenced work on Gray Rocks she has continually opposed him. She says
he will never find a dollar s worth of gold if he sinks his shaft a
thousand feet. I sometimes think she has influenced sister Virgie.
Sister is away from home now, teaching school at Waterville. I do not
know whether papa is wrong or not, but if he is, then I am also, for I
believe with all my heart that some time papa will find the wealth he
has so persistently labored for so many years. And I sincerely hope,”
she continued, laying her hand on Vance’s arm and looking pleadingly
up into his face, “that you will not be influenced by anything that
Aunt Sally may have said, will you?”
Vance was only human; he could not withstand such an appeal, If doubts
had ever come to him, the trembling girl at his side, by her looks and
words, had put them to flight. “No,” he replied, “my faith is as
firm as the rocks in your father’s mine.”