_In the Mining Camp._
Time has sped all too swiftly at the little mining camp in the Cariboo
Valley. There is now only a month left of the two years set by Andy
Cameron for his return to his family, and all indications thus far
point to a tragic ending for the ambitions and loves of the unfortunate
Glengarry farmer.
All this while the two persistent miners had worked with an unlessened
zeal at their unproductive diggings. Each night, by turn, one took from
the sluices the ore while the other climbed the hill overlooking the
scene of their daily toils and cooked before the cabin door the simple
evening meal. Many times since their coming into this mountain-locked
valley had the prospectors shifted the site of their gold diggings,
but to the little cabin, which stood at the foot of the steep rock
looking down into the gulch, they clung, held fast by many endearing
associations. Edmond LeClare,—for that was the name of Cameron’s
associate—had made a few excursions up the valley to another camp of
prospectors, who had come into the hills farther to the north, soon
after he and Cameron had settled upon their claim, now safely marked
from intruders by the evidence of their active operations. With these
new friends LeClare arranged that for an exchange in gold dust he was
to obtain from them the needed supplies of bacon and flour to replenish
from time to time the cuisine department of their household.
Each night before the door of their cabin the miners discussed the
possibilities of their undertaking. Perhaps it was that they builded
their hopes upon the returns from a certain new lead they had struck in
the mountain’s side. The deposits of gold taken from the sluices that
day, if they should continue to be found, would surely bring to them
the wealth each sought so diligently. But alas, upon exploiting to
the finish each newly discovered vein of ore, the hopes of the unlucky
miners tumbled as did the castles builded by them with the toy blocks
of their childhood.
Not a word of complaint was uttered by Andy in the presence of his
companion. His disappointment over the failure to obtain the coveted
wealth with which he had hoped to redeem his home and the happiness of
his wife and family was hidden within the recesses of his own breast,
though to the watchful eyes of the sympathetic Edmond the wretched
straits into which his friend had been thrust by the yet unprofitable
workings of their gold diggings were as easy to read as though they
had been in print upon the pages of an open book. While Andy toiled to
live and preserve his happiness, LeClare worked and courted hardships
and discouragements to deaden the misery of his soul. He had hidden his
secret well, but with Andy, as the end of the time of their compact
approached, the heart-breaking lack of success, the fading hope of his
cherished dream of wealth, the thought of having only a bitter tale of
failure to bear back to his faithful wife, Barbara,—each one of these
emotions had stamped their relentless impress upon his honest, bronzed
face, and while not a word had passed between the two prospectors on
the subject ever uppermost in the thoughts of each, yet for Edmond
LeClare, the unhappy plight of his companion was now the daily
inspiration which drove him on in renewed efforts.
A few days more, thought Cameron, and he should tell his friend all.
Then they must divide the paltry store of gold dust between them, and
sadly at their parting and with a broken heart he would retrace his
steps as best he could to his home at The Front, and there tell of his
disappointment.
[Illustration: “‘Speak. Edmond!’ gasped Cameron. ‘What have you behind
your back? It’s gold! gold!—I know it!’”]
Thus Cameron argued as he sat upon the wood block before the cabin
stirring the fire, cooking the evening meal. He had thrown upon the
coals some dry branches, and through the gray smoke which enveloped him
he saw the figure of his companion coming toward him up the hill. “He
is early,” thought Andy, and he looked again, stepping aside out of the
blinding smoke. Edmond had paused down the hill a few rods from the
cabin, his right hand behind him, his head thrown back and eyes wide
open, glaring with excitement.
“Speak, Edmond!” gasped Cameron. “Speak to me, boy. My God, speak!
What have you behind your back? It’s gold! gold!—I know it!” Rushing
together, the two companions sobbed in each other’s arms.
“Look, Andy!” cried LeClare, through his tears of joy. “There are two
of them,” and he held up nuggets of gold larger than their combined
fists, “and there are plenty more of them in the same spot where these
came from.”
Poor Andy sobbed in his happiness upon the shoulder of his mining
partner, and then, clutching him by the arm as though awakening from
a dream, he half sobbed, half cried: “He won’t get them now, Edmond;
he won’t get them now! Laughing Donald stays on where he is, and his
invalid wife will have a servant to wait on her. And Barbara—my wife,
Edmond, my wife, do you hear?—she shall have a new silk dress, a new
straw bonnet, Edmond, with red posies in it, and a new yarn carpet to
put in the parlor, my boy. And you shall come and live at The Nole.
You and Dan can go fishing, rain or shine, and I will get my lawyer
friend from the village to come out and see us; I’ll hire a carriage
for him, too, Edmond. And Nick Perkins, the tax collector——” Then, at
the mention of that name, Cameron slowly regained his composure, and a
stern, cold look passed over his features. “What day of the month did
you say it was, Edmond?” He had lowered his voice almost to a whisper.
Then, as LeClare answered, he continued: “The time will soon be up.
To-morrow, Edmond, to-morrow we must start for home—to-morrow we must
go.”
LeClare half carried his companion, who was exhausted by the excitement
over the discovery, to the seat by the cabin door. The sun had now
gone down behind the mountain opposite, and in the autumn glow of this
golden sunset, alone with their Maker, they offered a silent prayer
over their evening meal.
The miners sat facing each other at their scant repast. Their menu, at
all times limited, had now become stale and unappetizing. The salted
meats and hard, dried breadstuffs, to which was added the badly mixed
coffee, would no longer suffice.
“We are rich, Andy,” laughed LeClare. “We haven’t much to boast about
on top of the table, but there’s a hundred thousand beneath it, old
fellow, and in the morning I will show you a crevice in the rocks down
there on the side hill where there’s twice as much more as we have here
waiting for you to take it out.”
Cameron was at once happy and sad. Now that the great wealth in gold
had been found, his thoughts of home were strangely affecting him. “Two
years,” he murmured over and over again to himself. “Could his wife,
Barbara, have kept their little colony together during his absence? Had
Nick Perkins, the money lender, harassed his brother Donald or annoyed
Barbara for the payment of interest money, or could any of his beloved
have died?” A shudder at this thought shook his frame. Looking across
the table he encountered the kind, inquiring smile on the face of his
companion. “You are coming with me, my boy. Edmond, this is no place
for you;” but he saw the smile on the handsome, youthful face before
him fade into an expression of sorrow. “Cheer up,” he continued. “I
have no fine words for telling you what it’s in my heart to say, but,
though you never have told me why you came out here, I know you could
never have done wrong to anybody, and to Barbara’s home and mine you
are welcome as long as you can find it comfortable.” Tears were in the
eyes of the two strong men, but the darkness had hidden the signs of
their emotions.
“Why, Andy, my old friend, I have never told you, have I?” suddenly
exclaimed LeClare.
“No, I guess you never did,” replied Andy.
[Illustration]