"It doesn't seem possible; but then things are so queer up here that you
can believe almost anything."
"Really it is a lake. It's all right in the winter, and swells
tremendously then; but this is a dry year, you know, and it's all dried
up." Kyzie forgave the lake for drying up, but pitied the fishes. Edith
thought Castle Cliff was "a funny place anyway."
"What little bits of houses! Did they dry up too?"
"Oh, those are just the cabins and bunk-houses that were built for the
miners, ever so long ago when the mine was going. Fixed up into cottages
now for summer boarders. Do you want to see the mine?"
They went around behind the shaft-house and beyond the old saw-mill.
"O my senses!" cried Edith, "is that the old gold mine, that monstrous
great thing? Isn't it horrid?"
They all agreed that it was "perfectly awful and dreadful," and that it
made you shudder to look into it; and that they were glad baby Eddo was
safely out of the way. The mine was a deep, irregular chasm, full of
dirty water and rocks. It had a hungry, cruel look; you could almost
fancy it was waiting in wicked glee to swallow up thoughtless little
children.
"It doesn't seem as if anybody could ever have dug for gold in that
horrid ditch," exclaimed Kyzie.
"You'd better believe they did, though," said the young guide. "They
used to get it out in nuggets, cart-loads of it."
He was not quite sure of the nuggets, but liked the sound of the word.
"Yes, cart-loads of it. I tell you 'twas the richest mine in the whole
Cuyamaca Mountains."
"Too bad the gold gave out," said Kyzie, gazing regretfully into the
watery depths.
"But it didn't give out! Why, there's gold enough left down there to buy
up the whole United States! They lost the vein, that's all"
"The vein? What's a vein?" asked Edith.
"Well, you see," replied the guide, "gold goes along underground in
streaks; they call it veins. The miners had to stop digging here because
they lost track of the streak. But they'll find it again."
"How do _you_ know?" asked Jimmy-boy, who thought Nate was putting on
too many airs.
"Because Mr. Templeton said so. They've sent for Colonel Somebody from
I--forget where. He's a splendid mining engineer, great for finding lost
veins. He'll be here next week and bring a lot of men."
"Whoop-ee!" cried Jimmy, "he'll find the vein and things, and we'll be
having gold as plenty as blackberries!"
"Just what I was talking about yesterday when you laughed," broke in
Lucy. "I said I'd go down in a bucket; don't you know I did?"
Edith was gazing spellbound at the yawning chasm.
"Look at those rickety steps! The men will get killed! 'Twill all cave
in!"
"No danger," said Nate, "there are walls down there, stone walls, papa
says, that keep it all safe."
He meant "galleries," but had forgotten the word.
"Well, I don't care if there are five hundred stone walls, I guess the
men could drown all the same!" said Edith. "That water ought to be let
out, Nate Pollard! If the colonel is coming next week why don't they let
out the water this very day and give the place a chance to dry off."
She spoke in a tone of the gravest anxiety, as if she understood the
matter perfectly, and felt the whole care of the mine. Indeed, the mine
had become suddenly very interesting to all the children. It certainly
looked like a rough, wild, frightful hole; nothing more than a hole; but
if there were gold down there in "nuggets," why, that was quite another
matter; it became at once an enchanted hole; it was as delightful as a
fairy story.
"I hope it's true that they've sent for that colonel," said Kyzie.
"Of course it's true," replied Nate, who did not like to have his word
doubted.
"I s'pose there are buckets 'round here. Oh, aren't you glad we came to
Castle Cliff?" said Lucy, pirouetting around Jimmy.
"Bab will be glad, too," she thought. For Lucy never could look forward
to any pleasure without wishing her darling "niece" to share it with
her.
"Well, I guess we've seen everything there is to see," remarked Nate,
who had now told all he knew and was ready to go.
While they still wandered about, talking of "tailings" and "nuggets,"
they were startled by the peal of a bell.
"Twelve o'clock! Two minutes ahead of time though," said Nate, taking
from his pocket a handsome gold watch which Jimmy had always admired.
"What bell is that? Where is it?" they all asked. "And what is it
ringing for?"
"It's on top of the schoolhouse and it's ringing for noon. 'Twill ring
again in the evening at nine o'clock. But I can tell 'em they ought to
set it back two minutes."
"A nine o'clock bell? Why, that's a _curfew_ bell! How romantic!" cried
Kyzie. She had read of "the mellow lin-lan-lone of evening bells," but
had never heard it. "Let's go to the schoolhouse."
As luncheon at the Templeton House would not be served for an hour yet,
they kept on to the hollow where the schoolhouse stood. It was a small,
unpainted building in the shade of three pine trees.
"Just wait a minute right here," said Edith, the young artist,
unstrapping her kodak. "I want a snap-shot at it. Stand there by that
tree, Jimmum. Put your foot out just so. I wish you were barefooted!"
Just then, as if they had overheard the wish, two little boys came
running down the hill, and one of them was barefooted. Moreover, when
Kyzie asked if they would stand for a picture, they consented at once.
"My name's Joseph Rolfe," said the elder, twitching off his hat, "and
his name,"--pointing to his companion with a chuckle,--"his name is
Chicken Little."
"No such a thing! Now you quit!" retorted the younger lad in a choked
voice, digging his toes into the dirt, "quit a-plaguing me! My name's
Henry Small and you know it!"
While Edith was busy taking their photographs, Kyzie thanked the urchins
very pleasantly. They both gazed at her with admiration.
"See here," said Joe Rolfe, twitching off his hat again very
respectfully, "Are you going to keep school in the schoolhouse? I wish
you would!"
At this remarkable speech Jimmy and Edith fell to laughing; but Kyzie
only blushed a little, and smiled. How very grown-up she must seem to
Joe if he could think of her as a teacher! She was now a tall girl of
fourteen, with a fine strong face and an earnest manner. She was
beginning to tire of being classed among little girls, and it was
delightful to find herself looked upon for the first time in her life as
a young lady. But she only said:--
"Oh, no, Joe, people don't teach school in summer! Summer is vacation."
"Well, but they do sometimes," persisted Joe; "there was a girl kep'
this school last summer. She called it 'vacation school.' But we didn't
like her; she licked like fury."
"So she did," echoed Chicken Little, "licked and pulled ears. Kep' a
stick on the desk."
And with these last words both the little boys took their leave, running
up hill with great speed, as if they thought that standing for a picture
had been a great waste of time.
"That Chicken boy is the biggest cry-baby," said Nate. "The boys like to
plague him to see him cry. Joe Rolfe has some sense."
As the little party walked on, Miss Katharine turned her head more than
once for another look at the schoolhouse.
"Wouldn't it be fun, Edy, to teach school in there and ring that
'lin-lan-lone bell' to call in the scholars? I'd make you study botany
harder'n you ever did before."
"No, thank you, Miss Dunlee," replied Edith, courtesying. "You'll not
get me to worrying over botany. I studied it a month once, but when I go
up in the mountains I go to have a good time."
She pursed her pretty mouth as she spoke. Her sister Katharine was by
far the best botanist in her class, and was always tearing up flowers in
the most wasteful manner. Worse than that, she expected Edith to do the
same thing and learn the hard names of the poor little withered pieces.
"You don't love flowers as well as I do, Kyzie, or you couldn't abuse
them so!"
This is what she often said to her learned sister after Kyzie had made
"a little preach" about the beauties of botany.
As they entered the hotel for luncheon, Kyzie was still thinking of the
schoolhouse and the sweet-toned bell and the singular speech of Joe
Rolfe, about wanting her for a teacher. What came of these thoughts you
shall hear later on.
"Well, I declare, I forgot all about that zebra kitty," said Edith.
"What will the knitting-woman think of such actions?"