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Digging for Gold. Horatio Alger Jr.
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Автор произведения Horatio Alger Jr.
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
“Yes, I wish you would.”
Much pleased, Grant set out on his long walk home. He found his step-father furious at his absence.
“Where have you been, Grant?” he demanded.
“Over to Crestville.”
“You’ve taken ’most a day of my time. It’s a shame! I can’t afford to take care of you, and give you victuals and clothes, when you’re playin’ truant half the time.”
“I don’t expect you to, Mr. Tarbox. I don’t want you to lose money by me,” said Grant demurely, “so I’ve made up my mind to leave you.”
“To leave me?” ejaculated Seth Tarbox, aghast. “Where are you goin’?”
“I’m going to California!”
Seth Tarbox dropped the hoe he had in his hand, and stared at Grant as though the boy had taken leave of his senses.
CHAPTER VIII
ALL IS SETTLED
“Goin’ to Californy!” ejaculated Mr. Tarbox in a dazed tone.
“Yes. I’ve seen John Heywood – that’s what I went to Crestville for – and he tells me there’s a chance for a boy to make money out there.”
“Goin’ to walk, I s’pose,” said Seth satirically.
“I’m going across the plains, if that’s what you mean.”
“Where are you goin’ to get the money? It will cost a good deal.”
“I have made arrangements about the money.”
“Is John Heywood goin’ to supply you with funds?”
“I’d rather not tell,” answered Grant mysteriously. He was glad that this idea had occurred to his step-father, as he did not wish him to know that he had any funds of his own.
“I don’t know as I’ll let you go,” went on Seth Tarbox slowly.
“What right have you to stop me?” demanded Grant, not very much alarmed.
“I’m your step-father.”
“Yes; but you’re not my guardian.”
“Mind, I don’t say I’ll stop you,” said Seth, for an idea had occurred to him whereby he might turn the expedition to his own advantage. Should Grant bring back a good sum of money, he meant to get control of it, and thought he should succeed on account of the boy’s being so young.
“No, Mr. Tarbox, it wouldn’t be any use.”
“Does John Heywood really think you can make it pay?”
“He says there’s piles of gold there.”
“Piles of gold!” repeated Seth Tarbox, an expression of greed stealing over his face.
“Yes, that’s what he said.”
“I wish I was a young man. I ain’t sure but I’d go myself. But I’m sixty-eight.”
“That’s a little too old to go.”
“If you are prosperous, Grant, take care of your money and bring it all home. We’ll be glad to see you back safe and prosperous, your mother and me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tarbox.”
This conversation relieved Grant’s mind. Even if Mr. Tarbox were opposed to his going, he meant to go all the same, but it was pleasanter to have no trouble in the matter.
The next day he went to Crestville again, this time to see Jerry Cooper, as everybody called him, and his son Tom, and ascertain whether they were willing that he should join their party.
Mr. Cooper, a weather-beaten man of fifty, was at work in his yard when Grant came up. Grant knew him by sight, and bade him good-morning.
“Has John Heywood spoken to you about me?” he asked.
“Yes. You’re the boy that wants to go to Californy with us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You look kind of rugged; I guess you can stand it,” said the blacksmith, surveying critically Grant’s broad shoulders and athletic frame.
“Yes, Mr. Cooper; I’m not a city dude. I’ve always been accustomed to hard work.”
“That’s good. There’s a good deal of hard work in goin’ across the plains.”
“How long do you think it will take to make the journey?”
“About four months.”
“It will give us a good chance to see the country – ”
“That ain’t what I’m goin’ for. When you get to be fifty years old you won’t care much about seein’ the country. You will be more practical.”
“I shall try to be practical,” said Grant, with a smile.
“It’s my belief we shall see more of the country than we care for. I wish it wasn’t so fur.”
“So do I. Some time there may be a railroad across the continent.”
Mr. Cooper shook his head.
“I never expect to see that,” he said. “It wouldn’t pay. You’re a boy, and by the time you get to be an old man there may be a railroad, but I doubt it.”
“When do you expect to start, Mr. Cooper?”
“Next Thursday. Can you be ready?”
“I could be ready to-morrow if necessary,” returned Grant promptly. “How much is it going to cost me, Mr. Cooper?” he added. “If you will tell me, I can give you the money in a lump, and you can undertake to see me through.”
“Mebbe that will be a good plan, as I shall have to lay in more supplies. We’ll say seventy-five dollars; and it will be well for you to bring a pair of blankets.”
“All right. I will give you the money now if you will give me a paper acknowledging the receipt, and what it is for.”
“Just as you say, Grant.”
Grant had brought a hundred dollars with him, and handed over to Jerry Cooper the sum he had mentioned, receiving back a receipt. This he put into his pocket with a sense of satisfaction. He felt that now the die was cast, and he was really bound for California; that he had taken the first step on the road to fortune.
On his way home he chanced to meet Rodney Bartlett. Rodney was walking with an affected step and swinging his cane. He had an idea that he was a striking figure and excited the admiration of all whom he met.
When his eyes fell on Grant, he started in genuine surprise.
“How do you happen to be over here, Grant Colburn?” he asked.
“I am here on business,” answered Grant.
“Oh, come over on an errand for my grandfather, I suppose.”
“No, I came on business of my own.”
Rodney arched his eyebrows.
“Oh, so you have business of your own?” he said, in a ironical tone.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t think you would feel interested in it.”
“Look here, Grant, I don’t believe you have any business here at all,” said Rodney rudely.
“It makes little difference to me what you think,” returned Grant briefly.
“I think you are playing truant from the farm – that you have come over here to get rid of work. If I were grandfather I wouldn’t let