We had found some mighty rich float rock in that part of the mountain, and knew the precious stuff was not very far away. We ‘grub-staked’ Grim and put him to work on wages, and while he was workin’, he struck a ‘pocket’ and found free gold—a regular vault full of yellow stuff. He commenced his treachery by stealin’ every grain of it, and then cleverly walled up that part of the shaft and continued diggin’ in the opposite direction, endeavorin’ to get as far away from the place where he had made the discovery as possible. Well, by and by Hank Casey and me got tired of payin’ out money, and we sold out the Peacock for a mere song to Grim. Soon after, the name of Rufus Grim was known all over the mountain district as a bonanza king. He organized an immense company, and owns most of the stock himself. Within six months after we were defrauded of our rights in the Peacock, he was a rich man, and has been gettin’ richer ever since. Hank Casey and me have a whole lot of evidence. B. Webster Legal says if we can prove what we claim, that we have got a lead pipe cinch on the Peacock. The papers are bein’ drawn up, and things are goin’ to be sizzlin’ hot for Rufus Grim before many moons go over his head.”
Vance expressed much surprise and sympathy at the injustice he had sustained.
“Say, pardner,” said Steve, “I kind o’ reckon you’re shinin’ up a little toward old Bonifield’s gal, ain’t you?” and he nudged Vance in the ribs with his elbow.
The question was so unexpected that Vance hardly knew how to reply. “I hope,” replied Vance, “that I am not in disfavor with the young lady, or her father either. I own an interest in Gray Rocks.”
“The dickens you do!” said Steve Gibbons. “Well, if there’s any man in these mountains, pardner, who ought to strike it, old Ben Bonifield is the one. He’s been stickin to Gray Rocks for a good many years, and is one of the squarest men in the Fish River Minin’ District, while that gal of his—-why, she is the gem of all these diggins. I did think J. Arthur Boast had the inside track on the Bonifield ranch, but here lately I ‘lowed as maybe Boast was playin’ second fiddle; but then you can’t tell how a game is goin’ to end until the last card is played.”
Vance made no reply, but ground his teeth in silent anger at the mention of Boast’s name.
It was late that night when they arrived at Waterville.
ARLY the next morning Dick Ballard rapped on Vance’s door, and being admitted, greeted him warmly, and assured him he was mighty glad to see him again.
“There’s goin’ to be a meetin’ of the Town Company.”
“Is that so?” said Vance.
“Yes; the hul kit and bilin’ of ‘em are here,” replied Ballard. “There’s Colonel Alexander, Homer Winthrop, General Ira House and his brother, Jack House, B. Webster Legal and Marcus Donald. Donald is the resident director of the Town Company.” Vance said he would be glad to meet them.
“Well, you’ll see the keenest lot of men,” said Ballard, “this here country has ever pulled together. Every one of ‘em is a strong man and a hustler from the word go. What I say about ‘em you’ll find is prima facie.” After a little, Dick Ballard winked one eye at Vance and said: “I feel a bottle in my pocket, and I wouldn’t wonder a mite there was suthin’ in it that wouldn’t taste bad. A little spirits is mighty good for a feller when he has had a hard day’s ride.”
Vance assured him that he was much obliged, but was thoroughly refreshed by his night’s rest, and a light breakfast was all he wanted.
“We usually,” replied Ballard, “accommodate fellows that want that kind of a breakfast; in fact, some of our breakfasts are too darned light. I’ll go down and see what I can skirmish up for you.”
At the door Dick Ballard turned and said, “Oh, yes, have you heard the news?”
“No, I do not remember of having heard anything of a startling character,” replied Vance.
“Well, by Ned, I supposed you had heard all about it,” said Ballard, as he leaned against the door and looked wise.
“Well, what is it?” queried Vance.
“Well, sir, our militia company has got a new snare drum, and, gosh all fish hooks! but she is a rat-tat-tat-to-or from away back!” The door closed and Old Dick Ballard retreated, merrily whistling “Away down in Dixie.”
After breakfast, Vance was escorted to the Town Company’s office, where he met the different members of the company. Each vied with the other in showing him courtesies.
“I presume,” said Homer Winthrop, as they drew a little aside from the others, “that you have never met as remarkable men as you see in my associates.” He looked radiant, inserted his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, and continued:
“Colonel Alexander is possessed of one of the richest brains of any man I ever knew. Our attorney, Mr. Legal is a star of the first magnitude in his profession, and can whip a small army in a lawsuit, while Gen. Ira House has a reputation superior to any man in the Rocky Mountains as a town builder. Now, if he,” continued Winthrop, “should go into the midst of a desert and say, ‘Here a great city shall be built,’ you would make no mistake in taking a ‘flyer’ on some dirt in that vicinity. Then there is Jack House, the General’s brother, who is, in his specialty, a most remarkable man. He is sometimes called ‘the Conspirator’ of our gang, because of his ability to set up jobs on the enemy and down ‘em.”
“By Jove, look,” said Winthrop, pointing out of the window, while his face became animated, “do you see that young lady on the other side of the street? That’s Miss Virgie Bonifield, and I venture to say she’s one of the loveliest girls in the Rocky Mountains.”
“I have a message for her, sent by her sister,” replied Vance. “I will be under many obligations if you’ll introduce me to the young lady.”
“With pleasure,” replied Winthrop, “as soon as the town meeting adjourns we will call upon her.”
The meeting was called to order, with Colonel Alexander in the chair.
The chairman cleared his throat several times with marked vehemence, and said:
“Gentlemen, we have again met to deliberate upon the destiny of Waterville and the great Thief River Valley. It is no small matter for gigantic intellects to thus assemble as a deliberative body, to arrange, by resolutions or otherwise, questions of great moment. The leading question to-day, gentlemen, is that of mind over matter. We have said to one another, ‘Waterville shall become a great city;’ our united efforts are concentrated in this work. The story of the bundle of sticks is as true to-day as when the fable was first written.
“The wealth, gentlemen, of our united intellects is bearing down in concentrated rays against every opposition, and with hammer and tongs we are reaching out in every direction, and are making one of the grandest campaigns the country has ever witnessed. Gentlemen, what is the pleasure of this meeting?”
The Colonel’s earnestness could not be doubted. When he sat down he fondled his gold-headed cane with apparent tenderness, as if he were ashamed of the way he had abused it in emphasizing his remarks by punching it into the floor in a most merciless fashion.
B. Webster Legal, addressing the chairman, said: “I am proud again to meet my distinguished associates as a deliberative body. For the benefit of our beloved citizens of Waterville, who are crowding into this room of deliberation, and standing in front of the windows eagerly listening to the important proceedings of this meeting, I will say that only men in the broadest term—men with an abundance of gray matter clinging to their brains—could possibly have accomplished the feats which have characterized the acts of the Waterville Town Company from its organization up to the present time. I feel, Mr. President and gentlemen, that our untiring efforts are about to be crowned with a success little dreamed of by the most hopeful.
“From a legal point of view, I am proud to assure you that the Waterville Town Company is in a most safe and healthy condition. I have frequently observed, and will again say, I am not a seller of lots, but I assure each and every one of you that I am here to stay by this company as long as a lot can be sold. So far as legal knots are concerned, I will untie them; or, failing to do so, will, with the sharp edge of the law, cleave them asunder.”
The attorney’s remarks were greeted with applause as he sat down.
The chairman jarred the frail building by again clearing his throat, and requested C. Webster Legal to make a report of the assets of the Waterville Town Company.
"Mr. Chairman,” said B. Webster Legal, “I have recently looked over the list of property owned by the Waterville Town Company, and find that we have assets amounting to some two millions of dollars.”
As the attorney sat down there was a satisfied look upon his face suggestive of the millionaire.
The chairman looked over his spectacles and said, “Gentlemen, you have heard, and no doubt with pardonable elation, the statement of our honored associate, Judge Legal. There are eight of us,” he continued, “and two millions means a quarter of a million each. Within two years, sirs, these assets will have doubled in value. There are men whose statements I would not rely implicitly upon without discounting them—say, fifty or seventy-five per cent—but, gentlemen, when it comes to downright conservatism, why, my level-headed friend the Judge takes the jackpot. Yes, sir, I undertake to say, gentlemen, he is the king bee of us all in cutting square into the heart of a proposition, and analyzing it with a precision that is truly remarkable; and when he says two millions, I have no hesitancy, gentlemen, in staking my reputation that it is three millions if it is a cent.”
As the chairman sat down he looked carefully at his gold-headed cane again to make sure it had sustained no injury.
Marcus Donald, the resident Town Company’s director, addressed the meeting, and said:
“Mr. Chairman, I never felt so rich in my life as I do at the present moment. I regret that my ancestors are not alive to rejoice with me in the prosperity I am now enjoying. There is a reason in this contemplated prosperity. First, the great natural opportunities in this wonderful valley, and, second, the unity of action on the part of the members of our Town Company.
“I have here a small matter to which I wish to call the directors’ attention.
It is a livery bill of some eighty dollars that is past due, and, perhaps, we had better arrange for it.”
Judge Legal rose to a point of order. He said that such small details as paying livery bills had no place in the deliberations of this body of men. “It is the duty of the auditing committee to first approve and then look after the payments of small items like expense bills.”
Director Donald stated in reply that B. Webster Legal was a member of the auditing committee as well as himself, and, doubtless, knew the bill had been approved of long ago, but that there were no funds with which—
“Order!” shouted the chairman, punching his goldheaded cane vigorously into the floor. “I sustain the point of order made by this corporation’s attorney. Let us now proceed with the deliberations of weighty and progressive questions.”
Gen. Ira House sat propped back in his chair in a retired corner of the room, and until now had maintained silence, save the fetching and labored puffs of his cigar, which almost completely enveloped him in a cloud of smoke. As he straightened himself up, he pushed his chair in front of him, elevated one foot to the seat and rested his left elbow on his elevated knee. He wore an expression on his face becoming a philosopher. "Mr. Chairman,” said he, “it seems to me we’re drifting.” He looked wise and waited a moment for his remark to take effect. “Drifting,” he continued, “is weakness. If we drift, we scatter; if we scatter, we fall. Now, gentlemen,” he continued, “we must not drift. There are important business matters awaiting our attention. I hold in my hand a letter from a party who wants to know if Waterville would not be a good place to start a foundry. Now, gentlemen, do we want a foundry at Waterville, or do we not? That is the question before this meeting.”
As Gen. House sat down, the crowd cheered him lustily, stamped their feet, clapped their hands, and cries of “Good!”
“That’s business!” “That’s the talk!” were heard on all sides among the citizens who were listening with bated breath to the proceedings of the Town Company’s meeting.
“I move,” said Jack House, “that we want a foundry at Waterville, and resolutions to that effect be prepared, inviting the party, whoever he is, to locate his foundry here.”
“Order, gentlemen!” shouted the chairman, again clearing his throat. “Mr. Secretary, please record in the minutes of this meeting, if there are no objections, the unanimous vote in favor of the foundry, and prepare a set of elaborate resolutions, which we will sign, inviting the party making the inquiry to come at once to Waterville and locate his foundry.”
The throng of citizens broke into cheers at this announcement, and the word was soon passed through the throng to the outer circle, that a foundry was to be located at Waterville. Presently, three cheers and a tiger were proposed for the new foundry, and the deliberations of the Town Company were necessarily delayed until the cheering had ceased.
Marcus Donald, addressing the chairman, said: “I have received a communication from the owners of a sash, blind and door factory, who seem quite desirous of casting their lot with us. I suggest the importance of taking official notice of their communication.”
The throng of citizens waited almost breathlessly, and with a fair degree of patience, to see what was to be done in regard to the sash, blind and door factory. Judge Legal moved that the suggestion offered by Director Donald be acted upon, and that a resolution favoring the sash, blind and door factory be voted upon. As he sat down, three other directors seconded the motion.
“You have heard the question,” said the chairman. “Unless there is some opposition, we will regard it as carried unanimously.” He looked over his spectacles a moment, and as no one offered an objection, he brought his gold-headed cane down with a sharp rap upon the floor, and said “Carried!”
Again the word was passed from citizen to citizen onto the waiting mob without, that Waterville was to have a sash, blind and door factory. Again huzzas and cheering rent the air, and impeded, to a certain degree, the deliberations of the Town Company’s meeting.
At this juncture, a clerk of the local bank—the only one that Waterville could boast of—presented himself and asked permission to address the directors.
“What is the nature of your business, young man?” asked Col. Alexander, clearing his throat threateningly and looking hard at the clerk over his spectacles.
"I have a sight draft for $50, drawn on the Waterville Town Company for printing stock certificates.”
The chairman and his seven colleagues came to their they cried, almost in unison. Several of the directors shouted, “Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman!” at the top of their voice, but in his indignation the chairman failed to take notice of them.
Presently a silence, caused by sheer consternation, succeeded the first burst of surprise. Judge Legal, mounting a chair, said:
“Mr. Chairman! I move you that article 57 of our by-laws be copied and certified to under our corporate seal and delivered to this young gentleman, that he may return it with the sight draft. Here is the wording of article 57: ‘Further, that this corporation, the Waterville Town Company refuses to honor or pay sight drafts from any and all sources.’.rdquo;
“You have heard the question,” said the excited chairman, bringing his cane down with great vehemence. “Do I hear a second?”
“We all second it.”
Silence having been restored, Judge Legal again addressed the chair:
“Mr. Secretary,” said the chairman, “record the question as carried unanimously.”
“Mr. Chairman,” said he, “in the future all printing by the Waterville Town Company will be sent to another printing establishment.”
“Unless there is opposition, we will consider the question as carried unanimously,” said the chairman. At this juncture the chairman took the floor, and addressing the directors, said:
“There are times when, notwithstanding the power of our united intellects, questions of a very exasperating nature confront us, and, momentarily, we are at a loss to know just what to do; but it is only momentarily—we meet every crisis. It takes us a very short time to decide; and, with us, decision is action.
“In my experience I have observed that, occasionally, storms of opposition sweep down upon men like an irresistible avalanche. At such times it is well to retreat to some protected place and let the storm tire itself out—beat itself into exhaustion, so to speak—until its very protest becomes a dead silence. Refreshed with the rest we have had, we may then safely sally forth, and, with renewed vigor, arrange a flank movement on the enemy, and everlastingly choke opposition into a corpse.”
When the chairman sat down he motioned Vance to his side, and said, sotto voce: “Was not that a master stroke, Mr. Gilder? Do not we meet and dispose of questions that would simply stump any ordinary body of men into inaction? Opposition does not faze us; no sir, we know our rights, and are here to fight for them.”
The citizens were very much elated over the prospects of a foundry and a sash, blind and door factory at Waterville. Their gratitude to the Town Company was very marked, and was evidenced by three hearty cheers and many huzzas. Presently the meeting of the Town Company adjourned, and then there was much clapping of hands and more cheering. Each member of the company crowded around Vance and shook him warmly by the hand, and assured him they had had one of the most profitable meetings that had ever taken place.
|ANCE had become so thoroughly interested during his first visit to Waterville, that he was prepared, in a degree, to share in a general way the enthusiasm of the citizens and the members of the Waterville Town Company which prevailed after the meeting adjourned.
Buoyant with hope of the future, without hardly understanding why, and with a blind belief that his investment would yield him a splendid return, he began to feel that it was indeed a lucky day when the chief of the Banner sent him to the northwest, and still luckier when he fell in with the members of the Waterville Town Company.
That afternoon, accompanied by Homer Winthrop, he called on Miss Virginia Bonifield.
That young lady received her callers with a cultured grace and dignity that would have done honor to even one who had seen much more of the world. She was rather tall and a pronounced brunette. Her well poised head was in keeping with her graceful figure. One could not say she was strikingly beautiful, but there was something in her face as well as manner that made one forget to desire her different than the interesting person she was. Both vivacious and intelligent, she possessed the rare charm, in her conversation, of reflecting the mood of those about her. Addressing Vance, she said:
“Louise has written me so much about you that I have been quite impatient to form your acquaintance. I presume that papa is still working away on Gray Rocks?”
“Yes,” replied Vance, “he will soon reach the 300 foot level.”
"And the old story will be told again, I dare say,” said Virginia, laughing.
“Miss Virginia is not an enthusiast,” said Winthrop, “in regard to untold millions that have not yet been discovered in mining shafts.”
“My observations,” retorted Virginia, “have caused me to be less sentimental, if not more practical, than my good sister Louise.”
“I fear,” said Vance, “you do not share in your father’s belief in regard to the future of Gray Rocks?”
“I am a Bonifield,” replied Virginia, “and believe implicitly in my father; and, in my way, love him as tenderly, I dare say, as any daughter ever loved a parent, but sometimes I fear he is mistaken—but, to change the subject,” she continued, “how do you like the west?”
“I am very favorably impressed with what I have seen. In the east we have many brilliants that are not diamonds; in the west we have many rough ashlars that are diamonds unpolished.”
“Thank you,” replied Virginia, “I consider that a compliment.”
“It is our intention,” said Winthrop, “to claim Mr. Gilder as a western man before another year; and if Waterville continues to grow, as we expect it will, we may persuade him to edit our first daily paper.”
Soon after, they rose to go. “I shall hope,” said Miss Virginia, “that I will be honored by a call from you whenever you are in Waterville.”
“Thank you,” replied Vance, “it will afford me great pleasure.”
Winthrop remained behind a few moments, while Vance walked up and down the sidewalk. The sun was well toward the western horizon. A bluish haze lay against the mountains in the distance. It was an Indian summer afternoon, full of quiet rest, with a gentle, invigorating mountain breeze as a constant tonic.
Presently Winthrop joined him, and they hurried down to the depot, for it was nearing train time, and they had arranged to travel together to Butte City.
“How are you impressed with Miss Bonifield?” asked Winthrop.
“Quite favorably,” replied Vance. “She is, however, an entirely different type from her sister, Miss Louise; indeed, I can discover no family resemblance. Miss Louise is quite fair, while Miss Virginia is a decided brunette.”
Soon after, the train came in, and they secured comfortable seats in a Pullman. As the train started, Vance looked out of the window at the turbulent waters in the river, and asked Winthrop where the foundry, and sash, blind and door factory would be located.
“We have not decided as yet,” replied Winthrop. “That will be an easy matter to arrange when the party or parties are ready to commence building.”
“I presume you are selling a good many lots?” said Vance.
“Well, yes,” replied Winthrop, hesitatingly. “We are interesting a good many people; and it takes people to build a city. Where a man’s possessions are, his heart is generally not far away.”
“I should judge from your complimentary remarks about Miss Virginia Bonifield, and the delightful expression of your face when we called this afternoon, that your heart abides quite permanently at Waterville.” Winthrop seemed confused and looked out of the window. Presently lie said:
“Miss Bonifield is one of the most practical young ladies it has ever been my good fortune to meet. She is a most exemplary young lady, and the good people of Waterville hold her in high esteem. This is her second year in the public school at that place.”
“I judge from her remarks,” said Vance, “that her faith is very limited in her father’s mine.”
“Yes,” replied ‘Winthrop, “I consider her the most practical member of the Bonifield family.”
Vance blushed scarlet and turned resentfully in his seat toward Winthrop. “Ho! ho!” said Winthrop, laughing, “I was merely expressing my own private opinion. I see, without your saying it, that your opinion is quite different. How fortunate it is that all men, especially you and I, Mr. Gilder, are not of the same opinion. This very difference of opinion,” Winthrop went on, “may, as the months come and go, weld our friendship more and more firmly.”
Vance saw that he had betrayed his feelings, and good-naturedly observed that he always was quite partial to blondes. “I presume,” he went on, “when I become editor of the first daily paper in Waterville, you will, doubtless, be president of some great banking house.”
“I hope so,” replied Winthrop, thoughtfully. “If many people are interested in our new town it will help us in more ways than one. They will ultimately move to Waterville, erect homes, and engage in business; but we must not be impatient and expect too much for the first year, or the second, for that matter. ‘Rome was not built in a day.’ I fully believe,” continued Winthrop, “that parties purchasing lots at the present prices will receive most excellent returns on their investments. You see,” continued Winthrop in a confidential way, “the Waterville Town Company was compelled to go into debt very heavily at the time it commenced its operations, but by persistent and continued efforts on the part of various members of the company, we have greatly reduced the indebtedness, and if the sale of lots continues for a week longer we will, probably, not owe a dollar.
We will then divide our property, each member receiving a deed for his respective share.”
Winthrop seemed so happy in anticipation of the joyful time when the company’ would be out of debt, and was so confidential and frank in regard to the matter, that Vance, hardly knowing why, found himself deeply interested in the work of selling lots, and suggested to Winthrop that he would write to some of the members of the Banner force who were particular friends of his, and advise them to send on their surplus earnings for investment.
The town boomer was at once on the alert, and, in not an over-anxious way, heartily advised the step. Accordingly, that night at the hotel in Butte City, Vance wrote a letter to his friends advising an investment in Waterville.
The dramatic critic, the religious editor, the police reporter, and the heads of the several departments of the Banner at once acted on Vance’s advice. They knew nothing of the chief’s action in regard to Vance’s dismissal. They wired Vance, authorizing him to sight draft them for $2,500, and invest the proceeds in town lots in Waterville.
He at once complied with the instructions, turned the money over to Winthrop, and instructed him to forward the deeds to his friends in New York city.
He was not a little gratified to find his last letter to the Banner copied in full by the Intermountain Blade and the Butte City Miner, with editorials referring to the article as particularly able, and to the writer as having the “courage of his convictions.”
The article had a most salutary effect on Homer Winthrop’s lot selling enterprise, and during the next few days he sold more Waterville town lots than his most sanguine expectations had caused him to hope for.
Toward the last of the week Vance left Butte City for Gold Bluff, via Waterville. He had in his possession additional data and statistics to support and corroborate his recent letter to the Banner.
At first the west was distasteful to him, but as he became better acquainted with its customs and habits he began to recognize the true manhood that is not unfrequently found under the miner’s garb.
There is an uncouth, whole-soul generosity met with on the frontier of which the effete easterner knows nothing.
Arriving at Waterville the following morning too late for the Gold Bluff stage, he was compelled to put in another day at Waterville. Remembering Miss Virginia Bonifield’s invitation, he called on her that evening, and was most hospitably received. In the course of their conversation she said:
“I understand, Mr. Gilder, that you are interested with my father in Gray Rocks I hope you did not misunderstand me or my motive when I spoke discouragingly of my father’s mining prospects.”
“May I ask,” said Vance, “what reason you have for your pessimistic views, if I may term them such?”
“I presume,” she replied, a little nettled, “they are about as tangible and equally hard to explain as those of an optimist. I have a presentiment that father will never find what he is looking for in the Gray Rocks mine. My sister, Louise, encourages faith in what to me seems a mad belief.”
“Your sister may be right,” replied Vance.
“My greatest hope,” she replied, “is that I am wrong and that my sweet sister is right; but I really fear, Mr. Gilder, you will never see your money again that you have been investing with my father.”
“I cannot doubt your sincerity,” replied Vance, “but I am glad to have more faith than you have.”
“Why should I have any faith,” she replied. “Have I not seen my father clinging to that false hope year after year, and every day resulting in a fresh disappointment? Long ago I made up my mind that Aunt Sally is about right. She says that father has been planting money with different prospectors all over the mountains, and none of it has ever found its way back. She also predicts that father will work away on Gray Rocks until he dies, and never have his hopes realized. I love my father tenderly, and feel very sorry for him. A stranger cannot understand his personal charms and grandeur as one of his family. He is certainly one of the sweetest characters in the world. His persuasive powers, as you evidently have reason to know, are very great, and I feel it my duty to thus warn you for your own protection. Papa is so sane on everything else excepting Gray Rocks, and is so foolish about that, notwithstanding his many years of lost labor.”
“If your father has a ‘wheel in his head’ on the subject of Gray Rocks, I must admit that I, too, have one in mine,” replied Vance.
The blush that overspread Virginia’s face suggested that she felt keenly the rebuke.
“Pardon me, Mr. Gilder,” said she, “I had forgotten that I am not ‘my brother’s keeper’. I promise never to refer to the subject again.”
That evening, after Vance had taken leave of Miss Virginia Bonifield, he experienced a strange unrest and dissatisfaction, and while he did not admit it to himself, the glamour of his day-dreams had been broken.
Presently, as he walked along, the face of Louise came before him, and, in a moment, he forgot his unsatisfactory evening; forgot hope’s broken glamour, and basked again in the alluring belief that the future held no clouds for him.
It was late when he reached the hotel.
Looking through the window, he saw old Dick Ballard, who was alone in the barroom entertaining himself with an evening drill.
He carried a long, iron poker at “carry arms,” and was marching back and forth with military tread. Arriving at the end of the room, he would call out “Halt! About face! March!”
Vance was very much amused at old Dick Ballard’s pantomime drill, but finally opened the door and walked in. The transformation scene was wonderful. Old Dick Ballard was vigorously poking in the stove, notwithstanding it was a July night.
“Hello, Mr. Gilder,” said he, looking up, “I saw a mighty big rat run in this stove a minute ago, and I am after it.”
“Better charge your entire militia company on the enemy,” said Vance, laughing.
“Oh, you saw me, did you,” said Ballard. “I was jes’ drillin’ up a little for dress parade. Well, pardner, I’ll set ‘em up, and you say nothin’ about it.”
Vance declined to be entertained, but Ballard drank copiously from his ever ready bottle.
“I tell you, Waterville’s got it and no mistake,” said he, putting his bottle carefully away.
“Got what,” asked Vance, as he turned to go to his room.
“Got the crack military company of the state,” replied Ballard. “You ought to see ‘em drill once. There is nothin’ in New York city or anywhere else can tech one side of ‘em for big money.”
HE FOLLOWING morning Vance took the stage for Gold Bluff. As he neared that little mining town, he found himself experiencing an impatience once more to see Louise Bonifield that was strangely at variance with any former sensation of his life. It seemed to him the stage coach was traveling at a snail’s pace, and even the good natured, “honest intentioned” Steve Gibbons, with all his droll talk of frontier adventure, failed to interest him. Arriving at the hotel, he found the old miner, Ben Bonifield, waiting for him.
“Am delighted to see yo’, Mr. Gilder; I am indeed, suh. I presume yo’r almost famished; pow’ful tiresome ridin’ in a stage coach all day, suh. After yo’ have refreshed yo’self, I shall be pleased to join yo’ in yo’r room. I have a matteh of vehy great impo’tance to discuss with yo’, suh.”
“All right,” said Vance, in his cheeriest tones. “I trust Miss Louise is well?”
“Quite well, suh; quite well, thank yo’.”
As Vance ate his supper a satisfied feeling of contentment with the whole world intruded itself upon him. His advancement in his profession was certainly gratifying. He had received several valuable hints while in Butte City in regard to a new silver mining company that was about to be organized, in which he was thinking seriously of investing a little money. The price was only ten cents a share, which he had been assured, on what seemed to him very excellent authority, would be worth a dollar a share before twelve months’ time. His investment at Waterville was certainly a good one, and he heartily believed Col. Bonifield had good news to tell him about Gray Rocks. In addition to this, he was once more near Louise, that fair vision of loveliness, whose tender blue eyes seemed ever near him. He dropped a coin into the hand of the waiter as he rose from the table, and stopped in the hallway to caress a lovely little child which he found playing hide-and-seek with an older companion, and then made each a present of money with which to buy bon-bons. He hummed softly to himself the air of an old love song as he went leisurely to his room.
Soon after, he was enjoying a choice Havana with Col. Bonifield sitting in a chair opposite him, smoking his briar-root, blowing blue rings of smoke leisurely toward the ceiling. Vance was animated, and spoke glowingly of the prospects of Waterville. Presently Col. Bonifield said:
“Mr. Gilder, we have reached the 300 foot level, suh,” and then lapsed into silence.
“Have you cross-cut into the vein yet?” asked Vance.
“Mr. Gilder,” said the old miner, as he rose from his chair and walked back and forth in a stately manner, “we have cross-cut, suh, into where the vein ought to have been, but it is not there, suh. I must confess to yo’, suh, that I am greatly disappointed, but the disappointment, I am sure, suh, is only tempoary. Of course it is much richer, suh, than it was at the 200 foot level, but it is not rich enough, suh, to work, by a pow’ful sight.”