Chris Lee had the impression next morning that he had lain for hours
listening to the strange cries of wild creatures which had once more
made the plantations their home, and he smiled at the idea that had come
to him respecting a meeting, when he rose from the blanket and saddle
bed, upon which he had slept better than he remembered ever to have done
in his life.
His first look was at the place Ned had occupied; but he was already
gone, and upon hurrying out he came upon him just visible as he forced
his way through the tall growth with an orange in each hand and
half-a-dozen tucked into his breast.
"Morning," he shouted. "I've been down to the river. It seems full of
fish."
"That's good news," cried Chris. "Isn't it? But look here, there'll be
a long talk over breakfast this morning about--Seen Griggs?"
"No. But why will they talk about him over breakfast?"
"Stuff! I didn't mean that. He came to the river with me, and he's
gone now to light a fire and boil the kettle. He wants to talk to you
as he did to me."
"What about?"
"What about? Why, about this place. He's red-hot over it, and says it
would be madness to go away now and give up real gold for what may after
all be nothing better than a dream. What do you think?"
"I?" said Chris, laughing. "That I've had enough fighting and tramping
to last me for many years to come."
"Then if I say I'll stay, will you?"
"I don't know yet," said Chris.
"What! Why, you're never going to run back?"
"I'm not going to run back, nor run forward," replied Chris. "I'm going
to do just what my father does, and in spite of your talk I believe
you'll stand by Mr Bourne."
"Of course," cried Ned; "but he's sure to say he'll stay. There's only
your father and Wilton on the other side, so we shall be four to two if
you'll stand by me. Now what do you say?"
"Nothing at present; let's wait."
Ned pressed for a definite promise, but Chris remained firm and went to
help Griggs in his preparation of the first breakfast that had been
eaten upon the old hearth for two years.
It was rough; but appetite would have made up for that, only it seemed
wanting, and the steaming coffee and tough damper bread remained almost
untasted for a time, every one being thoughtful and silent.
At last the doctor spoke.
"Look here," he said, "I've got something upon my mind, and judging from
your looks it seems to me that every one is not only troubled in the
same way, but eager to get that something off. Am I right in coming to
the conclusion that you are all thinking of the same thing?"
"I guess I am," said Griggs.
"I'm sure I am," said Bourne.
"I'm thinking that the sooner we get to work the better," said Wilton.
"That's soon settled, then," said the doctor, "for there is no occasion
to ask the boys--it's written plainly in both their faces. We all think
that it would be madness to talk of leaving such a home as we can make
of this."
"All!" came in chorus, and then the appetite for breakfast, while they
worked afterwards as they had never worked before to master and drive
back the encroaching forest; fetch stores with their mule-train from the
distant port; rebuild and restore; and in due time plant, gather, and
farm, to provide the necessaries of life, till Golden Hollow, as it was
renamed, became a veritable Eden--a home which, attracted others, till
as time went on the peril finders' struggle to grasp at the phantom gold
seemed to grow more and more like some exciting dream.
"Ever think of the shooting now, boys?" said Griggs one day, as he stood
by the side of the great green basket of fruit he had gathered and just
set down, to turn over some half-a-dozen that were beginning to glow
like gold.
"Not often," said Ned, "but it will come at times."
"Do you?" said Griggs, turning to Chris, who looked thoughtful.
"Yes: I did only yesterday," was the reply. "I was at the bottom of the
big peach-orchard, when I regularly jumped, for there was a sharp whizz
close to my ear, and I began to think of the Indians hiding behind every
bush."
"But it couldn't have been an arrow," cried Griggs.
"No; only a hawk making a dash at one of those blue-breasted birds; but
it set me thinking of arrows flying, and using one's rifle too."
"Ah, rough times those," said Griggs, picking up two oranges, and then a
third, to keep them, juggler fashion, following one another through the
air. "Like to go again?"
"No!" shouted Chris and Ned together, in a way which disconcerted the
juggler so that the oranges all came down, to be picked up quickly, as
the American said sharply--
"Same here. Once was enough."