CHAPTER I.

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[Illustration: Ben's Nugget by Horatio Alger Jr.]

[Illustration: TURNING THE TABLES.]

BEN'S NUGGET;

OR,

A BOY'S SEARCH FOR FORTUNE.

A Story of the Pacific Coast.

BY

HORATIO ALGER, JR.,

AUTHOR OF "RAGGED DICK," "TATTERED TOM," "LUCK AND PLUCK," "BRAVE AND

BOLD SERIES," ETC., ETC.

THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.,

PHILADELPHIA, CHICAGO, TORONTO.

COPYRIGHT BY HORATIO ALGER, JR., 1882.

To

Three San Francisco Boys,

JOSEPH AND MAXEY SLOSS AND CLARENCE WALTER,

THIS STORY

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

"Ben's Nugget" is the concluding volume of the Pacific Series. Though it

is complete in itself, and may be read independently, the chief

characters introduced will be recognized as old friends by the readers

of "The Young Explorer," the volume just preceding, not omitting Ki

Sing, the faithful Chinaman, whose virtues may go far to diminish the

prejudice which, justly or unjustly, is now felt toward his countrymen.

Though Ben Stanton may be considered rather young for a miner, not a few

as young as he drifted to the gold-fields in the early days of

California. Mining is carried on now in a very different manner, and I

can hardly encourage any of my young readers to follow his example in

seeking fortune so far from home.

New York, May 19, 1882.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. PAGE

THE MOUNTAIN-CABIN 13

CHAPTER II.

THE MISSING CHINAMAN 23

CHAPTER III.

TWO GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD 30

CHAPTER IV.

KI SING IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 38

CHAPTER V.

FURTHER ADVENTURES OF BILL MOSELY 46

CHAPTER VI.

AN UNEQUAL CONTEST 54

CHAPTER VII.

TIED TO A TREE 62

CHAPTER VIII.

TURNING THE TABLES 70

CHAPTER IX.

BRADLEY'S SIGNAL VICTORY 78

CHAPTER X.

"THE BEST OF FRIENDS MUST PART" 87

CHAPTER XI.

PLANS FOR DEPARTURE 95

CHAPTER XII.

THE PROFITS OF MINING 100

CHAPTER XIII.

KI SING'S RIDE 104

CHAPTER XIV.

GOLDEN GULCH HOTEL 113

CHAPTER XV.

BILL MOSELY REAPPEARS 122

CHAPTER XVI.

A TRAVESTY OF JUSTICE 131

CHAPTER XVII.

LYNCH LAW 139

CHAPTER XVIII.

AFTER THE EXECUTION 147

CHAPTER XIX.

BEN WINS LAURELS AS A SINGER 151

CHAPTER XX.

A LITTLE RETROSPECT 158

CHAPTER XXI.

MR. CAMPBELL RECEIVES TIDINGS OF HIS WARD 165

CHAPTER XXII.

A MORNING CALL 174

CHAPTER XXIII.

A SECRET CONFERENCE 183

CHAPTER XXIV.

MISS DOUGLAS RECEIVES A MESSAGE 188

CHAPTER XXV.

WALKING INTO A TRAP 195

CHAPTER XXVI.

A HARD-HEARTED JAILER 201

CHAPTER XXVII.

A STAR IN THE CLOUD 210

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JONES CHECKMATES ORTON CAMPBELL 219

CHAPTER XXIX.

A WEDDING RECEPTION 229

CHAPTER XXX.

THE NUGGET 237

CHAPTER XXXI.

JOB STANTON'S MISTAKE 246

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE HOUSE IS MORTGAGED 255

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE BLOW ABOUT TO FALL 260

CHAPTER XXXIV.

CONCLUSION 265

BEN'S NUGGET;

OR,

A BOY'S SEARCH FOR FORTUNE.

CHAPTER I.

THE MOUNTAIN-CABIN.

"What's the news, Ben? You didn't happen to bring an evenin' paper, did

you?"

The speaker was a tall, loose-jointed man, dressed as a miner in a garb

that appeared to have seen considerable service. His beard was long and

untrimmed, and on his head he wore a Mexican sombrero.

This was Jake Bradley, a rough but good-hearted miner, who was stretched

carelessly upon the ground in front of a rude hut crowning a high

eminence in the heart of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Ben Stanton, whom he addressed, was a boy of sixteen, with a pleasant

face and a manly bearing.

"No, Jake," he answered with a smile, "I didn't meet a newsboy."

"There ain't many in this neighborhood, I reckon," said Bradley. "I tell

you, Ben, I'd give an ounce of dust for a New York or Boston paper. Who

knows what may have happened since we've been confined here in this

lonely mountain-hut? Uncle Sam may have gone to war, for aught we know.

P'r'haps the British may be bombarding New York this moment."

"I guess not," said Ben, smiling.

"I don't think it likely myself," said Bradley, filling his pipe.

"Still, there may be some astonishin' news if we could only get hold of

it."

"I don't think we can complain, Jake," said Ben, turning to a pleasanter

subject. "We've made considerable money out of Mr. Dewey's claim."

"That's so. The three weeks we've spent here haven't been thrown away,

by a long chalk. We shall be pretty well paid for accommodatin' Dick

Dewey by stayin' and takin' care of him."

"How much gold-dust do you think we're got, Mr. Bradley?"

"What!" exclaimed Bradley, taking the pipe from his mouth; "hadn't you

better call me the Honorable Mr. Bradley, and done with it? Don't you

feel acquainted with me yet, that you put the handle on to my name?"

"Excuse me, Jake," said Ben; "that's what I meant to say, but I was

thinking of Mr. Dewey and that's how I happened to call you Mister."

"That's a different matter. Dick's got a kind of dignity, so that it

seems natural to call him Mister; but as for me, I'm Jake Bradley, not a

bad sort of fellow, but I don't wear store-clo'es, and I'd rather be

called Jake by them as know me well."

"All right, Jake; but you haven't answered my question."

"What about?"

"The gold-dust."

"Oh yes. Well, I should say that the dust we've got out must be worth

nigh on to five hundred dollars."

"So much as that?" asked Ben, his eyes sparkling.

"Yes, all of that. That claim of Dewey's is a splendid one, and no

mistake. I think we ought to pay him a commission for allowing us to

work it."

"I think so too, Jake."

They were sitting outside the rude hut which had been roughly put

together on the summit of the mountain. The door was open, and what they

said could be heard by the occupant, who was stretched on a hard pallet

in one corner of the cabin.

"Come in, you two," he called out.

"Sartin, Dick," said Bradley; and he entered the cabin, followed by Ben.

"What was that you were saying just now?" asked Richard Dewey.

"Tell him, Ben," said Bradley.

"Jake was saying that we ought to pay you a commission on the gold-dust

we took from your claim, Mr. Dewey," said our hero, for that is Ben's

position in our story.

"Why should you?" asked Dewey.

"Because it's yours. You found it, and you ought to get some good of

it."

"So I have, Jake. In the first place, I got a thousand dollars out of it

before I fell sick--that is, sprained my ankle."

"But you ain't gettin' anything out of it now."

"I think I am," said Dewey, smiling and looking gratefully at his two

friends. "I am getting the care and attention of two faithful friends,

who will see that I do not suffer while I am laid up in this lonely

hut."

"We don't want to be paid for that, Dick."

"I know that, Bradley; but I don't call it paying you to let you work

the claim which I don't intend to work myself."

"But you would work it if you were well."

"No, I wouldn't," answered Dewey, with energy. "I would leave this place

instantly and take the shortest path to San Francisco."

"To see the gal that sent us out after you?"

"Yes. But, Jake, suppose you call her the young lady."

"Of course. You mustn't mind me, Dick. I don't know much about manners.

I was raised kind of rough, and never had no chance to learn

politeness. Ben, here, knows ten times as much as I do about how to

behave among fashionable folks."

"I don't know about that, Jake," said Ben. "I was brought up in the

country, and I know precious little about fashionable folks."

"Oh, well, you know how to talk. Besides, didn't you bring out Miss

Douglas from the States?"

"She brought me," said Ben.

"It seems to me we are wandering from the subject," said Dewey. "It was

a piece of good luck for me when you two happened upon this cabin where

I lay helpless, with no one to look after me but Ki Sing."

"Ki Sing took pretty good care of you for a haythen," said Bradley.

"So he did. He is a good fellow, if he is a Chinaman, and far more

grateful than many of his white brothers; but I was sighing for the

sight of one of my own color, who would understand my wants better than

that poor fellow, faithful as he is."

"I reckon the news we brought you helped you some, Dick," said Jake

Bradley.

"Yes. It put fresh life into me to learn that Florence Douglas, my own

dear Florence, had come out to this distant coast to search for me. But

I tell you, Jake, it's rather tantalizing to think that she is waiting

for me in San Francisco, while I am tied by the ankle to this lonely

cabin so many miles away."

"It won't be for long now, Dick," said Bradley. "You feel a good deal

better, don't you?"

"Yes; my ankle is much stronger than it was. Yesterday I walked about

the cabin, and even went out of doors. I felt rather tired afterward,

but it didn't hurt me."

"All you want is a little patience, Dick. You mustn't get up too soon. A

sprain is worse than a break, so I've often heard: I can't say I know

from experience."

"I hope you won't. It's a very trying experience, as I can testify."

"You'd get well quicker if we had some doctor's stuff to put on it, but

I reckon anyhow you'll be out in a week or ten days."

"I hope so. If I could only write to Florence and let her know where

and how I am, I wouldn't mind so much the waiting."

"Don't worry about her. She's in 'Frisco, where nothing can't happen to

her," said Bradley, whose loose grammar I cannot recommend my young

readers to imitate.

"I am not sure about that. Her guardian might find out where she is, and

follow her even to San Francisco. If I were on the spot he could do no

harm."

"I tell you, Dick, that gal--excuse me, I mean that young lady--is a

smart one, and I reckon she can get ahead of her guardian if she wants

to. Ben here told me how she circumvented him at the Astor House over in

York. She'll hold her own ag'in him, even if he does track her to

'Frisco."

Some of my readers may desire to know more about Dewey and his two

friends, and I will sketch for their benefit the events to which Bradley

referred.

Florence Douglas was the ward of the Albany merchant, John Campbell, who

by the terms of her father's will was entrusted with the care of her

large property till she had attained the age of twenty-five, a period

nearly a year distant. Mr. Campbell, anxious to secure his ward's large

property for his son, sought to induce Florence to marry the said son,

but this she distinctly declined to do. Irritated and disappointed, Mr.

Campbell darkly intimated that should her opposition continue he would

procure from two pliant physicians a certificate of her insanity and

have her confined in that most terrible of prisons, a mad-house. The

fear that he would carry his threat into execution nerved Florence to a

bold movement. Being mistress of a fortune of thirty thousand dollars,

left by her mother, she had funds enough for her purpose. She fled to

New York, where chance made her acquainted with our hero, Ben Stanton,

under whose escort she safely reached San Francisco, paying Ben's

expenses in return for his protection.

Arrived in San Francisco, she furnished Ben with the necessary funds to

seek out Richard Dewey (to whom, without her guardian's knowledge, she

was privately betrothed) and inform him of her presence in California.

After a series of adventures Ben and his companion had found Dewey, laid

up with a sprained ankle in a rude hut high up among the mountains. He

had met with an accident while successfully working a rich claim near

by.

Of course Richard Dewey was overjoyed to meet friends of his own race

who could provide for him better than his faithful attendant, Ki Sing.

As he could not yet leave the spot, he offered to Ben and Bradley the

privilege of working his claim.

In the next chapter I will briefly explain Ben's position, and the

object which brought him to California, and then we shall be able to

proceed with our story.

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