A STARTLING DISCLOSURE.
As there was no hotel, nor even tavern, at Rocky Gulch, the banker,
Percival, gladly accepted Tom’s invitation to pass the night at the
cabin occupied jointly by himself and his two friends.
“But what will your friends say?” asked Percival.
“They will be glad of your company,” said Tom, promptly.
The banker looked pleased.
“My visit will prove pleasanter than I anticipated,” he said.
When they reached the cabin Tom found that Mr. Brush was much better.
In fact, he and the doctor were at the door smoking.
“Dr. Spooner, Mr. Brush,” said our hero, “allow me to introduce a new
acquaintance, Mr. Percival, of San Francisco.”
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Percival,” was the cordial greeting of both, as
they extended their hands.
“I have promised Mr. Percival accommodations for the night,” continued
Tom.
“He shall be welcome if he doesn’t object to rough it,” answered Brush.
“We don’t live in a palace.”
“My friend,” said the banker, “it seems to me a palace compared with
what would have been my lodging but for the lucky chance of meeting
your young friend here.”
The doctor and Mr. Brush looked inquiringly first at one, then at the
other.
Tom smiled, but left Mr. Percival to tell the story.
“I was emphatically up a tree,” said the banker, “with a grizzly
standing guard underneath, when this brave boy (Tom blushed at the
compliment) came up, and taking effectual aim, disposed of Mr. Bruin.”
“You don’t mean to say you killed a grizzly, Tom?” exclaimed Mr. Brush,
in excitement.
“It is a literal fact,” said Robert Percival, “and one of the largest
specimens I have ever seen.”
“Where is he?”
“We were not able to bring him along,” said Tom, smiling. “If you and
the doctor can manage him I will give him to you.”
“I’ve always wanted to kill a grizzly,” said Peter Brush, meditatively.
“It would be a feather in my cap. Yet here am I, a man of fifty-two,
and I have not had a chance yet, while you, a mere stripling, have
succeeded.”
“I didn’t go to do it,” said Tom, with a queer smile.
“No, but you’ve done it, while neither I nor my friend the doctor, I
presume, have ever succeeded.”
“I think I could dispose of a first-class grizzly if he would only
consent to take my medicines,” said the doctor, dryly.
At this there was a general laugh.
“Mr. Percival,” said the doctor, “I venture to say that you and Tom are
hungry.”
“I am famished,” said the banker.
“I am glad you are hungry, for I am cook this week, and hungry men are
not fastidious.”
“I will help you, doctor,” said Peter Brush.
“Out of regard for our guest I will accept your offer,” said Dr.
Spooner. “I am sorry I haven’t a few pounds of Tom’s grizzly to cook.”
“I am content that he didn’t make a meal of me,” said the banker,
shrugging his shoulders.
Supper was enjoyed, and the four who partook of it were unusually
jovial.
After the meal was finished Robert Percival’s business instinct led him
to inquire of his hosts how well they had succeeded in their mining. He
was surprised to learn how much gold dust they had accumulated.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “business is business, and that as well as the
need of recreation has brought me out here. If you feel inclined to
part with your dust I will make you as favorable an offer as any one in
San Francisco, and give you drafts in payment.”
The three partners consulted, and Peter Brush acted as spokesman, and
promptly accepted their guest’s offer.
“Nothing will suit us better,” he said. “We are sure you will deal
honorably with us.”
“Even if such were not my custom,” said Percival, “I would do so for
the sake of your young associate, who has rendered me so important a
service. I confess my surprise at seeing so young a boy engaged in this
business. Is he related to either of you?”
This drew out Tom’s story. It was told partly by Mr. Brush, partly by
our young hero himself.
Robert Percival listened from the first with interest. But as the story
proceeded, and reached the point where our hero’s father was robbed
and left for dead near the very spot where they were conversing, his
interest increased, and was apparently mingled with surprise. When the
tale was told he ejaculated:
“This is a most extraordinary occurrence.”
“Not so extraordinary,” said Brush. “In the early days of California
emigration, robbery and murder could not have been so very uncommon.”
“But you don’t understand me, my friend. It is extraordinary that this
story should be told to me.”
“Why?” asked Brush and Tom, and the doctor looked equally inquisitive.
“Why? Because I myself found the bag of gold dust of which the boy is
in search, and I was one of the party who found his father and carried
him from the gulch!”
This statement was listened to with unbounded amazement by his three
listeners.