“Good-evenin’, Cap’n. So they tell me as ’twas you shot and killed that
big b’ar?”
The speaker was an elderly man, in his shirt sleeves, and with a pipe
in his mouth, who stepped into the porch and took a seat near Captain
Raymond as he made the remark.
“I reckon now we’ll have to own that yer a better marksman than most o’
the fellers about these here diggin’s,” he added, puffing away at his
pipe.
“That does not follow, by any means, Mr. Riggs,” returned the captain
modestly. “I happened to get the best opportunity to aim at a vital
part. That was all.”
“Well, now, I’ll say fer you that you don’t seem to be noways stuck up
about it, an’ I’ve seen fellers as proud as a peacock over a smaller
streak o’ luck (or maybe ’twas skill) than that. But you’re a lucky
man, sir; nobody kin deny that, seein’ how this ere tract o’ land that
they tell me ye bought for a mere trifle, has riz in value.”
“Yes, I have been very fortunate in that and many other things,”
replied the captain, with a glance at his son and daughter, seated
near, that seemed to include them among the blessings that had been
granted him, “though wealth has sometimes proved a curse rather than a
blessing to its owner.”
“It’s a curse as most folks is glad to git,” laughed the old man, “and
I tell you I was wild with joy when it fell to my lot to come upon the
biggest nugget as has ever been seen in these parts. I began life poor,
and never had no eddication to speak of, but I’ve more money now than
half the fellers that’s rubbed their backs agin’ a college.”
“But education has other uses than enabling a man to accumulate wealth.
Also, there are things that contribute more to one’s happiness than
money. How many millions do you suppose would tempt me to part with
my son or daughter, for instance?” and with the question the captain
turned his gaze upon his children, his eyes full of fatherly pride and
affection.
“Well, Cap’n, I don’t s’pose you’d be for sellin’ of ’em fer no price,”
returned the old man, with a grin. “They’re a likely lookin’ lot, and
you’ve plenty o’ the evil fur them and yourself, too.”
Lulu, mistaking the old man’s meaning, shot an angry glance at him,
moved nearer to her father, and slipped her hand into his.
Riggs observed it with a laugh. “I wasn’t sayin’ nothin’ agin your
dad, miss,” he said. “I was only referrin’ to the way folks has o’
callin’ money the root o’ all evil; but I obsarve there’s precious few
on ’em that isn’t glad to git all he kin lay his hands on.”
“Yes,” said the captain; “but do you know where they get that idea?”
“Well, now, they do tell me there’s Scripter fer it.”
“That’s a mistake, my friend; the Bible says, ‘the _love_ of money
is the root—or a root—of all evil.’ But it does not say it of money
itself; _it_ is a very good thing, if honestly got and put to right
uses.”
“And what do you call right uses?”
“‘Providing things honest in the sight of all men,’ relieving the wants
of the destitute, helping every good cause, and especially sending the
light of the gospel into all the dark places of the earth.”
“Well, sir, that’s purty good doctrine, and I rayther think ye’re
livin’ up to it, too, by all I hear.
“As for me, I’ve been a hard-workin’ man all my days, ’cept since I
come upon that are nugget, and I ’low to take my ease fer the rest o’
my days. I’m goin’ ter fix up my house as fine as I know how. My gal
she says ’taint nowheres big ’nough fer rich folks, and I’m goin’ to
build a condition to it with a portfolio at the back.”
“What’s that? he! he! never heard o’ such a thing!” cried a squeaky
little voice that seemed to come from behind the old man’s chair.
He sprang up and turned round, asking in a startled tone, “Who’s that?
who spoke? Why, why, why! where’s the feller gone to?” rolling his eyes
in wild astonishment, as he perceived that no one was there.
“Where are your eyes, man? Here I am.”
It was the same voice, now coming apparently from behind a large tree
growing a few feet from the porch, its spreading branches reaching to,
and partly resting upon its roof.
“Humph!” ejaculated Mr. Riggs, hurrying down the porch steps and round
to the farther side of the tree, “What are you up to, you rascal?”
“I’m no rascal, sir. What do you call me that for?” queried the voice,
sounding as if the speaker was making the circuit of the tree, keeping
always on the side farthest from the old man who was pursuing him.
“You were making fun o’ me, that’s why I call you a rascal, sir,”
panted Riggs.
“Oh no, sir; I was only wanting to know what your conditions and
portfolios were; such odd things to talk of adding to a house.”
“Odd, indeed! I reckon you’ll sing another song when you see ’em. But
where under the sun are you?”
“Here, right up here.”
The voice now seemed to come from among the branches overhead.
“Well, if you ain’t the spryest rogue ever I see! I’ve a notion to
climb after you and throw you down.”
“Come ahead then; who’s afraid?” the sentence ended in a mocking laugh.
“I’ll find a stone, and I guess that’ll fetch ye,” muttered Riggs,
stooping and feeling about on the ground.
“Ho, ho! better be careful; you might happen to break a window.
Good-by; I’m off.”
The voice came from the roof this time, and was immediately followed by
a sound as of scrambling and of shuffling footsteps; at first, near at
hand, then gradually dying away in the distance.
Meanwhile the captain was fairly shaking with suppressed mirth, and
Lulu nearly convulsed with her efforts to control an inclination to
burst into uproarious laughter. Max laughed a little when Riggs was
talking, but was sober as a judge when the strange voice answered.
Riggs came stumbling up into the porch again, and dropping into his
chair, panted out, “Well, if that isn’t the beatenest thing ever I
hearn tell on! how that fellar could git away so—keepin’ out o’ sight
all the time—is more’n I can understand. I thought I knowed everybody
about these diggins, but that there woice didn’t belong to none on ’em.
It sounded like the woice of an oldish man, but the villain sartainly
did skedaddle equal to any youngster ever I see. Did ye ketch sight o’
him, cap’n?”
“I saw no one but ourselves,” returned Captain Raymond, in a quiet tone.
The four had had the porch to themselves, the other boarders being
out, the McAlpine’s at supper. But at this moment the gate opened and
several gentlemen—Mr. Short and Mr. Austin among them—came in. Most of
them had taken part in the hunt that day, one or two others were old
hunters who were interested in the affair and desirous to talk it over
with the captain. Also to tell of past experiences of their own.
There were stories told of encounters with panthers, bears, deer,
buffaloes, and smaller game; all interesting, some amusing, some
thrilling because of danger or death narrowly escaped.
One told by a very old man whose business had been hunting and trapping
in the early days when great herds of buffaloes roamed over the plains
of the far West, was both thrilling and mirth-provoking.
He said that on one occasion he had fallen in with a company of young
army officers who were very desirous to shoot one buffalo or more;
they must have a taste of the sport, however dangerous.
“And it is mighty dangerous,” he went on, “mighty dangerous, as I told
’em. They’re shy critters, them buffaloes, but if you wound one and
don’t kill him, he’s very apt to turn and charge head down, gore you
with his big horns, toss you up, and when you come down again, stamp
you to death with his heavy hoofs.
“But those young chaps wasn’t to be skeared out o’ the notion; bein’
soldiers, they was bound to show themselves afeard o’ nothing, I
’spose. So I led ’em along the buffalo tracks to one o’ the critters’
drinkin’ places, and, sure enough, we found a big herd gathered round
it. They was to windward of us, but we’d hardly come up with ’em when
by sight or scent some of ’em become aware of our vicinity, and off
started the whole herd, we after ’em.
“One young officer (I furgit his name now) had a swifter horse than the
others, and presently he got near enough the hindermost ones to send a
bullet into a big bull. The critter was hurt purty bad, but not killed
by a good bit; so round he wheels and charges toward the feller that
had hit him. He put spurs to his horse and it was a race fer life, now
I tell you.
“And to make matters worse, somehow the man lost his balance, or the
saddle turned, and there he was a-hangin’ with one foot in the stirrup
and clingin’ to the horse’s neck with his left arm, the pistol in his
right hand, the buffalo comin’ up on t’ other side o’ the horse, and it
a runnin’ like mad.
“Fer a bit it seemed the poor young chap would never come out o’ that
alive, but one o’ his mates put another bullet into the buffalo so he
staggered and fell dead just as it seemed there wasn’t no escape for
horse or man; and somehow the feller had got back into his saddle in
another minute, though the horse was still tearin’ over the praries at
a thunderin’ pace.
“So it all ended well, after all; he’d killed a buffalo—leastways he
and the feller that fired the last shot into the critter—and ’scaped
without no hurt worse’n a purty bad scare.
“But here comes the fun o’ the thing. He told us he’d about give
himself up fer lost when he found hisself hangin’ by the stirrup and
the horse’s neck, and that mad buffalo bull after him, bellowing and
pawin’ up the ground and comin’ on as if he’d a mind to gore and
toss man and beast both, so he thinkin’ there wasn’t no earthly help
for him, concluded he’d better fall to prayin’, but when he tried he
couldn’t fer the life o’ him think of nothin’ to say but the words his
mother’d taught him when he was a leetle shaver, ‘Now I lay me down
to sleep,’ and they didn’t seem no ways appropriate to that perticlar
occasion.
“No; I’m wrong thar; he did say that, finally, somethin’ else come into
his head, but it warn’t much improvement on t’ other; it was the fust
words o’ the blessin’ his father was used to ask afore eatin’. ‘Fer
what we are about to receive make us truly thankful.’”
When the laugh that followed the old hunter’s story had subsided Mr.
Austin remarked: “That goes to show the folly and danger of neglecting
prayer on ordinary occasions,—one is not prepared to employ it in
emergencies.”
“True as preachin,’ sir,” replied the hunter. Then, rising, he bade
good-night, saying he was used to early hours, and thought it likely
the gentlemen who had been out that day would feel ready to go to bed.
At that the others followed his example, and the captain and his
children went to their own rooms.
“What a funny old man that Mr. Riggs is!” remarked Lulu, laughing at
the remembrance of his talk that evening. “Papa, what did he mean when
he said he was going to build a condition to his house with a portfolio
at the back’?”
“An addition with a portico, I suppose.”
“And he couldn’t imagine who or where the fellow was that laughed at
him. Max, you did that splendidly!”
“_I_ did it?” exclaimed Max, in astonishment so well feigned that for
an instant she doubted the correctness of her surmise; though before it
had almost amounted to certainty.
But the next moment she laughed merrily, saying, “Oh, you needn’t
pretend innocence! for I’m sure you were the naughty fellow. Didn’t he
do it well, papa?”
“Very, I thought,” replied their father, regarding his son with a
proudly affectionate smile.
“Papa, shall I call you dad?” asked Lulu merrily, taking possession of
his knee and putting her arm round his neck.
“No, I shall think you very disrespectful if you do. You may say either
papa or father, but I shall answer to no other titles from you—unless I
should, some time when you have been very naughty, forbid you to call
me anything but Captain Raymond.”
“Oh, papa, dear, don’t ever do that?” she pleaded, hugging him tight,
“I think it would be a worse punishment than you have ever given me;
for it would seem as if you were saying, ‘You don’t belong to me any
longer; I won’t have you for my own.’”
“No, my darling,” he returned, holding her close, “I shall never say
that, however ill you may behave.”
“And I do mean to be good; always obedient, and never in a passion
again; but I can’t be sure that I shall; it’s sometimes so much easier
to be naughty.”
“Yes, sad to relate, we all find it so,” he sighed. “What a happy place
heaven will be! for when we get there we shall have no more inclination
to sin, but shall be always basking in the sunshine of God’s love and
favor.”
“Yes, papa; being so happy when you are entirely pleased with me
helps me to understand how happy we shall all be when we are with our
Heavenly Father and he smiles on us and has no fault to find with us.
I like that Bible verse, ‘Like as a father pitieth his children, so
the Lord pitieth them that fear him,’ because I know you pity and love
me when I’m in trouble, even when I’ve brought it on myself by being
naughty.”
“I do, indeed, my child; and God’s love for his children is infinitely
greater than that of any earthly father for his.”
“It seems to me,” Max remarked, “that if that officer the old hunter
told about had been used to thinking of God as his kind, loving Father,
and praying to him, it would have been easy enough for him to ask for
help when in such danger.”
“I think you are quite right,” his father said; “and now,” opening the
Bible, “we will read a portion of his word, then ask for his kind,
protecting care while we sleep.”