FENTON'S GULCH
Deadwood, at the time of Luke's arrival, looked more like a mining
camp than a town. The first settlers had neither the time nor the
money to build elaborate dwellings. Anything, however rough, that
would provide a shelter, was deemed sufficient. Luxury was not
dreamed of, and even ordinary comforts were only partially supplied.
Luke put up at a rude hotel, and the next morning began to make
inquiries for Mr. Harding. He ascertained that the person of whom he
was in search had arrived not many weeks previous, accompanied by
his sister. The latter, however, soon concluded that Deadwood was no
suitable residence for ladies, and had returned to her former home,
or some place near by. Mr. Harding remained, with a view of trying
his luck at the mines.
The next point to be ascertained was to what mines he had directed
his steps. This information was hard to obtain. Finally, a man who
had just returned to Deadwood, hearing Luke making inquiries of the
hotel clerk, said:
"I say, young chap, is the man you are after an old party over
fifty, with gray hair and a long nose?"
"I think that is the right description," said Luke, eagerly. "Can
you tell me anything about him?"
"The party I mean, he may be Harding, or may be somebody else, is
lying sick at Fenton's Gulch, about a day's journey from here--say
twenty miles."
"Sick? What is the matter with him?"
"He took a bad cold, and being an old man, couldn't stand it as well
as if he were twenty years younger. I left him in an old cabin lying
on a blanket, looking about as miserable as you would want to see.
Are you a friend of his?"
"I am not acquainted with him," answered Luke, "but I am sent out by
a friend of his in the East. I am quite anxious to find him. Can you
give me directions?"
"I can do better. I can guide you there. I only came to Deadwood
for some supplies, and I go back to-morrow morning."
"If you will let me accompany you I will be very much obliged."
"You can come with me and welcome. I shall be glad of your company.
Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Seems to me you're rather a young chap to come out here alone."
"I suppose I am," returned Luke, smiling, "but there was no one
else to come with me. If I find Mr. Harding, I shall be all right."
"I can promise you that. It ain't likely he has got up from his
sick-bed and left the mines. I reckon you'll find him flat on his
back, as I left him."
Luke learned that his mining friend was known as Jack Baxter. He
seemed a sociable and agreeable man, though rather rough in his
outward appearance and manners. The next morning they started in
company, and were compelled to travel all day. Toward sunset they
reached the place known as Fenton's Gulch. It was a wild and
dreary-looking place, but had a good reputation for its yield
of gold dust.
"That's where you'll find the man you're after," said Baxter,
pointing to a dilapidated cabin, somewhat to the left of the mines.
Luke went up to the cabin, the door of which was open, and
looked in.
On a pallet in the corner lay a tall man, pale and emaciated.
He heard the slight noise at the door, and without turning his
head, said: "Come in, friend, whoever you are."
Upon this, Luke advanced into the cabin.
"Is this Mr. James Harding?" he asked.
The sick man turned his head, and his glance rested with surprise
upon the boy of sixteen who addressed him.
"Have I seen you before?" he asked.
"No, sir. I have only just arrived at the Gulch. You are Mr.
Harding?"
"Yes, that is my name; but how did you know it?"
"I am here in search of you, Mr. Harding."
"How is that?" asked the sick man, quickly. "Is my sister sick?"
"Not that I know of. I come from Mr. Armstrong, in New York."
"You come from Mr. Armstrong?" repeated the sick man, in evident
surprise. "Have you any message for me from him?"
"Yes, but that can wait. I am sorry to find you sick. I hope that
it is nothing serious."
"It would not be serious if I were in a settlement where I could
obtain a good doctor and proper medicines. Everything is serious
here. I have no care or attention, and no medicines."
"Do you feel able to get away from here? It would be better for you
to be at Deadwood than here."
"If I had anyone to go with me, I might venture to start for
Deadwood."
"I am at your service, Mr. Harding."
The sick man looked at Luke with a puzzled expression.
"You are very kind," he said, after a pause. "What is your name?"
"Luke Larkin."
"And you know Mr. Armstrong?"
"Yes. I am his messenger."
"But how came he to send a boy so far? It is not like him."
Luke laughed.
"No doubt you think him unwise," he said. "The fact was, he took me
for lack of a better. Besides, the mission was a confidential one,
and he thought he could trust me, young as I am."
"You say you have a message for me?" queried Harding.
"Yes!"
"What is it?"
"First, can I do something for your comfort? Can't I get you some
breakfast?"
"The message first."
"I will give it at once. Do you remember purchasing some government
bonds for Mr. Armstrong a short time before you left his
employment?"
"Yes. What of them?"
"Have you preserved the numbers of the bonds?" Luke inquired,
anxiously.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because Mr. Armstrong has lost his list, and they have been stolen.
Till he learns the numbers, he will stand no chance of identifying
or recovering them."
"I am sure I have the numbers. Feel in the pocket of my coat yonder,
and you will find a wallet. Take it out and bring it to me."
Luke obeyed directions.
The sick man opened the wallet and began to examine the contents.
Finally he drew out a paper, which he unfolded.
"Here is the list. I was sure I had them."
Luke's eyes lighted up with exultation.
It was clear that he had succeeded in his mission. He felt that
he had justified the confidence which Mr. Armstrong had reposed
in him, and that the outlay would prove not to have been wasted.
"May I copy them?" he asked.
"Certainly, since you are the agent of Mr. Armstrong--or you may
have the original paper."
"I will copy them, so that if that paper is lost, I may still have
the numbers. And now, what can I do for you?"
The resources of Fenton's Gulch were limited, but Luke succeeded in
getting together materials for a breakfast for the sick man. The
latter brightened up when he had eaten a sparing meal. It cheered
him, also, to find that there was someone to whom he could look
for friendly services.
To make my story short, on the second day he felt able to start
with Luke for Deadwood, which he reached without any serious
effect, except a considerable degree of fatigue.
Arrived at Deadwood, where there were postal facilities, Luke lost
no time in writing a letter to Mr. Armstrong, enclosing a list of
the stolen bonds. He gave a brief account of the circumstances under
which he had found Mr. Harding, and promised to return as soon as he
could get the sick man back to his farm in Minnesota.
When this letter was received, Roland Reed was in the merchant's
office.
"Look at that, Mr. Reed," said Armstrong, triumphantly. "That boy
is as smart as lightning. Some people might have thought me a fool
for trusting so young a boy, but the result has justified me. Now
my course is clear. With the help of these numbers I shall soon be
able to trace the theft and convict the guilty party."