Alger Horatio Jr.
The Young Miner; Or, Tom Nelson in California
CHAPTER XXII.
A GAMBLING-HOUSE
Having completed this important business arrangement, the two friends went out to explore the town. The limits were narrow compared with those of the flourishing city of the present day. Where the Palace and Grand hotels now stand was a sand-hill, and the bay encroached upon the business part of the city far more than now.
Scarcely a stone's throw from the grocery, on Montgomery street, between California and Sacramento, was the office of Adams' Express, which advertised to forward gold-dust and packages by every steamer.
"I will go in here, Mr. Ferguson," said Tom. "I shall not feel comfortable till I have started this money homeward. I am sure it will be wanted."
"Right, my lad. We will attend to it, by all means."
They entered the building,—a very humble one it would now be considered,—but they found other customers before them, and had to wait for their turn.
"What can I do for you?" asked the clerk, in a quick, business-like tone.
"I want to send home a hundred dollars," said Tom.
"Give me the address."
This was done, the money paid over, and a receipt returned in two minutes.
"How long before my father will receive the money?" asked Tom.
"The steamer starts in three days. About a month will be needed."
Then Tom moved aside, and the next man took his place.
"I am glad that is attended to," said Tom, relieved. "Now, Mr. Ferguson, I will go wherever you wish."
"We had better secure a lodging," said the Scotchman. "When we are sure of a bed we can walk about at our leisure."
Lodgings were to be had, but they were generally very dear. The first room looked at was five dollars per day, without board,—a price our friends were unwilling to pay. Finally they found a decent, though small room, with rather a narrow bed, which could be had for three fifths of that sum, and they engaged it.
"We will have to go back to the mines soon," said Tom. "San Francisco is too expensive for us to live in."
"You can afford it better than I, Tom," said his friend.
"Why?"
"Because you have a business that brings you in an income."
"Oh, I forgot that," said our hero, smiling. "Things happen so fast here that I haven't got used to my new position. Do you think I invested my money wisely, Mr. Ferguson?"
"Yes, my lad, since your agent is a trustworthy, honest man."
"I am sure I can trust John Miles."
"If I were not confident of it, also, I would not have encouraged you to take so important a step."
"I think I won't write to father about it," said Tom, after a pause. "He might think I had acted foolishly, and become anxious. If I succeed, then I shall be glad to surprise him. I think I shall make money; but I don't want to count on it too much. I shall be ready to go back with you to the mines whenever you say the word."
As they sauntered about, gazing curiously at the motley sights around them, they heard strains of music. It appeared to proceed from a large wooden building, with a jutting roof, under which, on benches, lounged a number of persons, some of them Mexicans, in their native costumes, smoking cigarettes. A large American flag was displayed over the door, and a crowd was constantly passing in and out.
"Let us go in," said Tom.
His companion making no objection, they entered. The first sight of the interior made clear the character of the place. There were numerous tables, spread with games,—faro, monte, and roulette,—each surrounded by an absorbed and interested group. "Easy come, easy go," was the rule with the early California pioneers, and the gaming-table enlisted in its service many men who would not have dreamed at home that they could ever be brought to tolerate such an instrument of evil.
Tom was a country boy, and unsophisticated, but he could not help understanding the nature of the business which brought so many to the place.
"I suppose they are gambling," he said.
"Yes, poor, deluded creatures!" said the Scotchman, who had been brought up to an abhorrence of games of chance. "They are wasting their time and their substance, and foolishly laying up for themselves future misery."
Had this remark been heard it would have excited indignation, and perhaps subjected the speaker to insult; but the players were too intent upon their varying chances to pay any attention to the remarks of by-standers.
"I hope, Tom, you will never yield to the seductive lures of the gaming-table," continued Ferguson.
"I don't think there is much danger," said Tom. "I have always been taught that gambling is wicked."
"May you long feel so, my lad!"
Tom did, however, watch the players with interest. He saw money lost and won, without understanding exactly how it was decided. From the game his attention was drawn to the gamesters. He was led to notice, particularly, a young man of prepossessing countenance, who was evidently profoundly excited. From time to time he drew out a roll of gold pieces, which he placed on a card, and invariably lost. He must have had a considerable sum; but, small or large, he was in ill-luck, and constantly lost. As he neared the end of his resources the feverish blush upon his handsome features was succeeded by a deep pallor, and there was no mistaking the expression of deep anguish and despair which announced that he had reached the end.
Tom became painfully interested in the young man, and silently drew the attention of his companion to him. When the end came, and the victim, thoroughly "cleaned out," turned to go out, Tom said, in a low voice, "Let us follow him."
Ferguson acquiesced. He, too, had become interested, and the young man's expression as he passed our two friends was so despairing that Ferguson felt some alarm as to the effect of his disappointment upon his mind.
Once in the street, Ferguson and Tom followed the unfortunate young man into an obscure street, keeping up with difficulty, for his pace was rapid and excited. It proved to be a fortunate thing, for when he supposed himself free from observation the young man drew a pistol, and, with an incoherent exclamation, placed it in contact with his temple.
Tom sprang forward, and so did the Scotchman; but the boy was the quicker and more agile, and dashed the pistol aside just in time to prevent a suicide.
"Why did you do that?" asked the baffled would-be-suicide, gloomily, turning his gaze upon Tom.
"I was afraid you were going to kill yourself."
"So I was."
"What could induce you to take such a rash step?" asked Ferguson.
"I have been a reckless fool. I have lost all my money at the accursed gambling-table, and my life is not worth retaining."
"It appears to me," said the Scotchman, quietly, "that you set too high a value upon money. You have certainly been very foolish to risk it at the gaming-table, and the loss will no doubt inconvenience you; but was your money all you had to live for?"
The young man regarded Ferguson with some surprise; but his excitement was evidently abated. The quiet tone of the speaker had a favorable effect upon him.
"I didn't think of it in that light," he admitted.
"Have you no relatives to whom your life is of value?"
"Yes," answered the young man. "I have a mother and sister."
"Would not your death affect them more than the loss of money?"
"Yes."
"It seems to me that to take your life would be to treat them cruelly."
The young man was evidently agitated by contending thoughts.
"I suppose you are right," he said, slowly; "but let me tell you all, and you can judge me better: I arrived in California six months since. My home is in Ohio, not far from Cincinnati. I was fortunate enough to commence mining at a point on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountains where I was almost alone. I 'struck it rich,' and two days since arrived in San Francisco with over two thousand dollars in gold-dust."
"You were certainly in luck," said Ferguson, surprised.
"I turned it into money, and, in strolling about the city, was lured into that accursed den. I looked on and was fascinated. I thought I would try my luck. I began with a small stake, and kept on till I had lost every dollar. In one hour the fruits of six months' labor are gone. Do you wonder that I am reduced to despair?"
CHAPTER XXIII.
A NEW SCHEME
"I see no cause for despair," replied Ferguson, in the same calm tone.
"I have not a penny left out of the two thousand dollars I had only an hour since."
"I understand all that."
"I am a ruined man," said the young man, despondently.
"I don't admit that. How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"You are well and strong, are you not?"
"Oh, yes, I have nothing to complain of on that score."
"Then it appears to me that your loss is not serious. Your capital still remains."
"My capital?" repeated the young man.
"Yes; your strong arms, your education, your capacity to labor."
"But I shall have to begin over again."
"Beginning over again at your age, when, possibly, fifty years of life lie before you, is not such a serious matter. Were I in your situation,—and I am twice as old as you,—I should not thing of despairing. Don't you think it would be rather foolish for two thousand dollars, which you have been only six months in accumulating, to throw away fifty years, and all that you can make in that time, thereby bringing a life-long grief to your mother and sister?"
The calm, logical tone of the Scotchman had its effect.
"I see that I was about to add to one piece of folly another far greater," said the young man. "I don't know who you are, sir, but I heartily thank you and your son for saving my life."
"This is not my son, but my young friend, Thomas Nelson," said Ferguson. "I am not so fortunate as to have a son."
"Well, God bless you both, and good-night!"
"Excuse my persistency, but may I ask where you are going?"
"I am not going to repeat my folly of just now, if that is what you mean."
"I did not suspect you of that; but are you sure of a bed anywhere?"
"No; I have no money to pay for one. I shall walk the streets, or possibly lie down in some quiet place. I was accustomed to roughing it at the mines, and can do it again if necessary."
"Tom and I have a room in which you are welcome to find a shelter. I am sorry that our bed is too narrow to hold another."
"Thank you. That will be better than to sleep in the streets. But are you not afraid to make me this offer?"
"Why should I be?"
"I might rob you during the night."
"You might, but you don't look like one who would so reward confidence."
"You are right. If you had fifty thousand dollars I would not touch a dollar of it. I will accept your offer. How can I repay you for your kindness?"
"There may be a way. We will talk of that this evening."
Nine o'clock found the three collected in the small room which had been hired by Ferguson for himself and Tom.
"My friend," said Ferguson, "you told us that you found a favorable place for mining up in the Sierras."
"Yes, I 'struck it rich.'"
"I take it for granted that you did not exhaust the wealth of the place?"
"Far from it. I only dipped into it. There is abundance left."
"Is this place known to many?"
"To only one, so far as I know. He and I worked independently, but were company for each other."
"But what induced you to leave so rich a claim?"
"I was tired of working, and wanted to come to the city for a change. You know what a change I have experienced here."
"Why don't you go back and start anew in the place where you met with your former good fortune?" asked Ferguson.
"Because I am penniless. I must find something to do here for a while. When I have got together a little fund, sufficient for the purpose, I will go back."
"Would you go back now, if you had the chance?"
"Would I? Certainly I would, for I could make money faster there than here."
"Would you have any objection to let Tom and myself accompany you?"
"Not the least. I should be glad of your company. There is gold enough for us all."
"Then we will start to-morrow, that is, if you and Tom are willing."
"I am ready," said Tom, promptly.
"But I have nothing. I don't like to be an expense to you," objected the young man.
"We will pay your expenses. We shall be more than recompensed by the richness of the mines. We might find something to do here, but both Tom and myself prefer the freedom of the mining camp, and, if the spot is as rich as you have led us to suspect, we shall make more money there."
"Agreed!" said the young man, promptly. "Name the hour of starting, and rely upon me to be ready."
Ferguson was evidently well pleased with this response. He felt that his new acquaintance would be so far away from the city, and would sooner retrieve his fortunes at the mines. He hoped, too, to find opportunity to strengthen his principles, and guard him against the temptations of the city when he should again visit it. Again, he had reason to think that the arrangement would benefit Tom and himself in a pecuniary way, and the Scotchman was by no means indifferent to that consideration; though, as we have seen, he did not unduly exalt the power or value of money.
Tom, too, was pleased with the prospect. He was grateful and attached to Ferguson, whom he felt to be a true friend, but he was glad to have another companion nearer his own age. The young man was of a prepossessing exterior, and when he had shaken off his present disquietude looked as if he might be a cheerful and agreeable companion.
"Since we are to live together, for a time at least, and become fellow-workers," said Ferguson, "we ought to know each other better. I will introduce myself first."
Hereupon Ferguson gave a brief account of himself, which need not be repeated, and then called upon Tom, who followed his example.
"Now it is my turn," said their new acquaintance. "You don't even know my name yet, though you have done me such an important service. I have already told you that I am from Ohio. My name is Richard Russell, though my friends generally call me Dick. My father, whom I had the misfortune to lose several years since, was at one time a member of Congress. He left a small property, the income of which is barely sufficient to provide my mother and sister with the comforts of life. I had a fair education, including enough Latin and Greek to fit me for entering college. My mother desired me to enter; but I knew that she could not keep me there without practicing pinching economy, and I secured a place with a small salary in a business house in Cincinnati. A year since, when the papers were full of the gold discoveries on this coast, I was seized, like so many others, with the golden fever, and arranged to start overland. It would have proved a wise step had I not been so rash a fool as to squander my earnings; for two thousand dollars in six months compare very favorably with twelve dollars a week, which I was earning at home. I might have gone home by the next steamer, and had money enough to carry me through a course of legal study, had I desired. I am out of patience with myself when I think of how I have thrown away my good fortune."
"Don't think too much of the past, which cannot be recalled. Resolve not to repeat your folly, and all may yet be well."
"I have fully resolved upon that," said Russell, earnestly.
"Do you think you shall study law, if you are again fortunate, Mr. Russell?" asked Tom.
"If you please don't call me Mr. Russell, unless you want me to call you Mr. Nelson. Call me Dick."
"I will," said Tom, smiling, "for I am not ready to be called Mr. Nelson yet."
"Now, to answer your question: if I can get two thousand dollars together again, I shall probably study law. Of course I don't mean to be a miner all my life any more than you. Now, Tom, what are your plans?"
"I think I should like to be a lawyer, too, but I must earn more than two thousand dollars first."
"Two thousand ought to be sufficient to educate you if you are economical."
"It would be, but I want to pay off a mortgage on my father's farm before I begin to lay up money for myself."
"You are a good fellow, Tom, and I wish you success."
"Thank you, Dick. I will succeed if hard work can bring success."
"Good-night to you both," said Ferguson. "I want to sleep well to prepare myself for starting to-morrow."
In half an hour all three were sleeping soundly.
CHAPTER XXIV.
PREPARING FOR A NEW START
When Tom opened his eyes he did not at first remember where he was, but a glance at Dick Russell, his new acquaintance, stretched out on the floor and still sleeping, quickly recalled the important events of the day previous. Mr. Ferguson was already dressed.
"Well, Tom, are you rested?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Ferguson; I slept like a top. What time is it?"
"It is seven o'clock. Our new friend is still asleep."
"I suppose he was on his feet all day yesterday."
"I don't know whether I ought to hurry you away from San Francisco so soon, Tom," said his Scotch friend. "We only arrived yesterday, and you have not had time to see the place, and enjoy yourself after your hard work at the mines."
"I don't care for that, Mr. Ferguson. I am anxious to be at work again. I didn't come out here to enjoy myself, but to make money for my father."
"You have succeeded pretty well thus far, Tom."
"Yes; but I have made more by the sale of the team than by work at the mines."
"True; but that is a legitimate transaction. If our friend here has reported correctly, we shall find mining more profitable in the place he mentions than at River Bend."
"I have no objection to that, though I was satisfied with River Bend. Wouldn't it be splendid, Mr. Ferguson, if we could do as well in the next six months as he did?"
"Making two thousand dollars each?"
"Yes."
"We may accomplish it; but it is best not to calculate upon it."
"If I could only free the farm from that troublesome mortgage I should be proud and happy. It has worn upon father, as I could see, and he has been compelled to toil early and late to pay the interest, besides supporting us all."
"How much is the mortgage, Tom?"
"Twenty-two hundred dollars."
"You have made a good beginning towards it already, Tom. You have seven hundred dollars invested in business."
"But out of that I owe you a hundred and fifty, Mr. Ferguson."
"Don't trouble yourself about that, Tom. Unless I should stand in great need of it, I will wait till you have paid off the mortgage before asking to have it repaid."
"You are very kind, Mr. Ferguson," said Tom, gratefully. "A part of my seven hundred dollars rightfully belongs to you, for you owned two-thirds of the horse and wagon."
"I couldn't have bought them without your help, Tom. So you see that you enabled me to make money. I am quite satisfied with an equal partnership."
"And I am very well satisfied with my partner," said Tom, smiling. "Shall we wake up Russell?"
"Yes, for we have much to do to-day."
"John Miles will be surprised at my leaving the city so quick."
"By the way, Tom, as he is to remain here, while you are out of the reach of post-offices, it may be well to ask your father to direct future letters to his care, and he can forward them as he has opportunity."
"That is a good idea. I will write to-day so as to catch the next steamer, and I will also speak to John."
Tom had to shake Dick Russell energetically before that young man opened his eyes.
"What's the matter?" he ejaculated, drowsily.
"Don't you want some breakfast?" asked Tom.
"Oh, it's you, Tom! Yes, you have touched the right chord. I have a first-class appetite—and no money," he added, his face clouding.
"Mr. Ferguson is treasurer," said Tom, lightly, wishing to divert Russell from the thoughts of his heavy loss, and the folly to which he owed it; "but we know very little of the city. Can you guide us to a good restaurant?"
"To a good one, but not a cheap one. Everything is high here."
"Then it is fortunate we are going to leave so soon."
In a small restaurant, on Montgomery street, our three friends partook of a hearty breakfast. It might not have attracted an epicure, but neither of the three was fastidious; and, though the charge was five dollars, Ferguson, economical as he was, paid the bill cheerfully. It was the first "civilized" breakfast he had eaten for months, and it might be months before he would be able to partake of another as good.
"I wish we could breakfast like this at the mines," said Tom.
"So say I," chimed in Dick Russell; "but you know that the gold-hunter must sacrifice home comforts."
"I shan't complain of that, if I can do as well as you did," said Tom.
"I see no reason why you can't. There is plenty of gold there, and all that is needed is work and perseverance."
"I am willing to contribute them," said Tom. "I mean to do my best to succeed."
"None of us can do more, my lad," said Ferguson. "Let us hope that God will prosper our undertakings."
"I say, I am glad I have met with you two," said Dick Russell. "You'll keep me on the right track; and, in spite of my past folly, I hope in time to win success."
"I am glad to hear you speak so sensibly, my young friend," said the Scotchman, kindly. "It's a great deal better to put your back to the wheel once more, than to take the life God gave you."
"Don't speak of that again, Mr. Ferguson," said Russell, shuddering. "I don't like to think of it."
"He'll do," thought Ferguson, with satisfaction. "His mind is now in a healthy condition, and I have great hopes of him."
The rest of the day was devoted to the purchase of supplies. Ferguson also bought a mule, in behalf of the party, which was of service in carrying a part of their burdens. It was not until afternoon that Tom found an opportunity to call on John Miles, and acquaint him with his almost immediate departure.
"I am sorry you are going away so soon, Tom," said Miles. "I thought you would stay at least a week."
"So I would if I were not so anxious to be at work once more. You know how my father is situated, John, for I have told you more than once."
"Yes, Tom; but I see no reason why you should feel uneasy. With the help you are to send him, there will be no trouble about his paying his interest regularly."
"I know that, John; but I shall feel uneasy until the mortgage is paid off, and he is out of Squire Hudson's power."
"For how long a time has the farm your father owns been encumbered with this mortgage?"
"For ten years, at least."
"Is the mortgage for any specified term of years?"
"I don't think so."
"It merely runs from year to year then?"
"I suppose so."
"In that case this Squire Hudson could foreclose at any time, could he not?"
"Yes," answered Tom, soberly.
"Don't make yourself uneasy about it, however," said Miles, observing that Tom seemed apprehensive. "As your father's farm is not particularly valuable, there can be no danger of foreclosure. By the way, wouldn't you like to have me remit your father something next month out of the profits of the business?—I can charge it to your account."
"I am glad you mentioned it, John. You may send him fifty or seventy-five dollars, if my share should amount to so much."
"I will."
"And I am going to have my home letters directed to your care. You can forward them to me whenever you have an opportunity."
"I won't fail, Tom. If there is anything you need sent out to you, you have only to write me, and I will attend to your commissions."
"It is very convenient to have an agent in the city," said John, smiling. "I shall feel much more comfortable out at the mines."
"I wish you good luck, Tom; but remember, even if you don't succeed in your search for gold, I shall be making money for you here."
"You make me feel quite like a capitalist, John."
"I hope you may be one some day. Good-by!"
They shook hands and parted. Before night-fall Tom had started on his new journey in quest of gold.
