Ben's Nugget by Jr. Alger Horatio (story read aloud TXT) 📖

he has been wanting so long, and buy new dresses for aunt and Jennie. But it isn't much use forming plans till the nugget is found."

"That's so, Ben; but you are as likely to find it as the next man."

"I will hope for it, at any rate."

Though Ben's prospects were excellent, and he had met with unusual success, his thoughts often wandered back to the quiet village where the years of his boyhood had been chiefly passed. From time to time he was disturbed by the thought that something might have happened to his uncle's family, of whom he had heard little or nothing since he went away. He afterward learned that letters had been sent which he had not received. He was not exactly homesick, but he felt keenly the lack of news from home.

In spite of this, however, he worked on with energy and industry. He felt that every dollar he earned brought nearer the day when he would feel justified in turning his back upon the gold-fields of California and wending his homeward way to Hampton.

Meanwhile, Ben did not neglect to do what he could for the general entertainment. It has already been mentioned that he could sing very creditably, and his talent was very often called into requisition in the evening. Ben was obliging, and, finding he could give pleasure, he generally complied with the request of the miners and rehearsed such songs as he knew, so that he was considered a decided acquisition by the little company, and his popularity was unbounded.

"I've been thinkin', Ben," said Bradley, one Sunday when they were taking a walk together, "that if there was any offices to be filled you'd stand a good show of bein' elected."

"What makes you think so, Jake?"

"You're the most popular man in the camp—leastways, boy."

"I can easily believe that, Jake, as I am the only boy."

"Well, there's no one ahead of you, man or boy."

"I am glad if that is so," said Ben, modestly. "It is chiefly because I am a boy."

"Boys are not always popular. It depends a good deal on the kind of boy."

So the reader will get some idea of Ben's life at the mines and the estimation in which he was held by his comrades. It was not very exciting nor very eventful, but there was to be a change.

One day his pick struck something hard. It might be a rock which would need to be removed. He dug round it patiently, but when he wished to lift it after it was loosened, he found it necessary to summon Bradley to his assistance.

"Why, Ben!" exclaimed Bradley, in excitement, "this isn't a rock; it is a nugget, and a bouncer."

"'A nugget'!" repeated Ben, incredulously.

"Yes; look here!" and Bradley pointed out the indubitable signs of its value. "Yes, Ben, your fortune has come at last."

"How much is it worth?" demanded Ben, almost breathless with excitement and exhilaration.

"How much? Three thousand dollars at least."

"Then I can go home."

"Yes, Ben, you're got your pile."

It may as well be stated here that Bradley's guess was not far out of the way. The nugget, when it reached San Francisco, was found to amount to three thousand seven hundred dollars.

To the credit of the miners of Golden Gulch, it must be said that all rejoiced in Ben's success. No one's good luck would have excited so little envy or jealousy as that of the boy who had worked by their side for months, and done so much by his good-humor and musical gifts to cheer up and entertain them. When he was ready to start for the city on his homeward journey all joined in wishing him a pleasant journey and the best of luck in the years to come.

Ben was not obliged to travel alone. Bradley decided not only to accompany him to San Francisco, but to sail to New York in his company.

"I've never seen York," he said, "and I never shall see it if I don't go now. So, if you don't mind, Ben, I'll go along with you."

"Mind, Jake? There's nothing I shall like better."

While they are on the steamer homeward bound events have transpired in Ben's old home which require to be noted.

CHAPTER XXXI. JOB STANTON'S MISTAKE.

There had not been many changes in the little town of Hampton since Ben left it. It was one of those quiet New England villages where life moves slowly, and a death or a marriage is an event.

Uncle Job still lived in his plain little cottage with his wife and daughter, and still plied his humble task as the village cobbler, essaying sometimes to make shoes when there were none to be repaired. There was a plat of land belonging to his house rather more than an acre in extent, but land was cheap in Hampton, and it is doubtful whether both house and lot would have brought, if thrown into the market, over one thousand dollars. Uncle Job had at one time about a hundred dollars in the savings bank in a neighboring town—a fund to draw from in an emergency—and this money with his plain home constituted his entire wealth.

Eleven hundred dollars all told! It was not a very brilliant result for forty years' labor, beginning with the days of his boyhood; but Job Stanton was not ambitious, and he actually felt well-to-do. He earned enough to supply the simple wants of his family, and had something over, and this satisfied him.

But one day a strong temptation came to Job Stanton, and he yielded to it.

A trader came riding over from a neighboring town and called on Uncle Job. The good man thought he had come to order a new pair of shoes, and felt flattered that such a dashing man should have gone so far out of his way to patronize him.

"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Richmond," he said. "Won't you set down?"

He should have said sit, but Job Stanton's educational advantages had been very limited.

"I don't care if I do. Snug place you've got here, Mr. Stanton."

"It's very plain and humble, but it's home, and I set by it," answered Job, who was busily engaged in tapping a shoe belonging to Eliphalet Nourza, a farm-laborer.

"I've come over to see you on a little business, Mr. Stanton," said the trader, affably.

"Jest so!" returned Uncle Job cheerfully, glancing over his spectacles at the trader's shoes to see if they looked much worn. "Want a pair of new shoes, I reckon?"

"I shall need a new pair soon," said Richmond, "but that isn't exactly what I meant."

It flashed across Job Stanton's mind that his visitor might be going to make him an offer for the old place, but he felt that he could not bear to part with it. He had lived there ever since he was married, thirty-five years ago, and there Jennie, the child of his old age, had been born.

But the trader's next sentence relieved him of this thought.

"The fact is, Uncle Job," proceeded the trader, adopting the title by which the shoemaker was generally known in Hampton, "I've got a favor to ask of you."

"'A favor to ask of me'?" repeated Job, looking up with some surprise at the well-dressed merchant, who seemed by his presence to honor the homely little shop.

"Yes," continued Richmond, with gravity; "I want you to indorse my note for five hundred dollars."

"What made you come to me?" asked Job Stanton in surprise. "I am not a capitalist; I am a poor man."

"Oh, well, you're good for five hundred dollars."

"Yes," answered Job with some complacency; "my place here is worth twice that, let alone the money I've got in the savings bank."

"Of course it is."

"Still, I don't want to run no risk. You'd better go to some moneyed man—like Major Sturgis, for instance."

"Why, the fact is, Uncle Job, it's the major that lets me have the money on my note, but he stipulated that I should have an indorser, and he particularly mentioned you."

"That's cur'us!" said Job. "Why should he think of me?"

"Oh, he knew you were a reliable man."

"How does it happen that you need money?" asked Job, bluntly. "Isn't your business good?"

"That's just it," said Richmond, glibly. "It's so good that I've got to extend my stock, and that takes money. I'm turning money over all the time, and it won't be long before I am able to retire."

"I'm glad of that, but I don't quite understand, if that's so, why you're short of funds."

"It's clear you are not a business-man," said Richmond, laughing, "but I think I can explain to you how it is."

He did explain, and the explanation seemed very plausible, yet Job Stanton, who was a cautious man, hesitated.

This brought the trader to his closing argument: "You mustn't think, Uncle Job, that I expect this service for nothing. I am ready to pay you ten dollars for the accommodation, and to order a pair of shoes at your own price."

"That's handsome!" said Job; "and all I've got to do is to sign my name?"

"Just so. It's a mere formality. I shall have the money to pay the note twice over before it comes due."

"Then I wonder the major wants an indorser."

"Oh, it's his invariable custom. 'I know it isn't necessary, Mr. Richmond,' he told me, 'but it's my rule, and I won't break over it, even in your case. If you will get Job Stanton to indorse for you, it will be perfectly satisfactory. I know he is a poor man, but then it's only a form.'"

"Well, I don't know," said Job, doubtfully. "If Ben was here I would ask him."

"You mean your nephew, don't you?"

"Yes, the boy that went to California."

"I'm glad you mentioned him. As soon as he gets back send him to me and I'll give him a place in my store. I've heard he's very smart."

"So he is," said Job, "and I'd like to have him with you, so that he could come to see us once in a while. There ain't no openin' in Hampton."

"Of course not."

"And you'll give Ben a place when he gets home?"

"Certainly; that is, if you indorse my note. I am ready to pay you the ten dollars down."

He drew a crisp bank-note for ten dollars from his pocket, and Job Stanton yielded, for it was a great deal of money to him. I think, however, that he was more influenced by the prospect of obtaining a good place for Ben that would keep him from wandering farther away from home. If he had been shrewder, it would have occurred to him that a prosperous business-man, such as Richmond claimed to be, was unusually anxious for a small accommodation. However, to him five hundred dollars represented a large sum, and it didn't seem at all strange.

So Uncle Job took off his leather apron, ushered his visitor into the sitting-room, and sitting down at the table indorsed the note.

"Thank you," said Richmond. "Here is the ten."

"I don't know as I ought to ask you so much," said Job, with conscientious scruples.

"Oh, that's all right. Now, I'll go into the shop, and you may take my measure for a pair of shoes."

"This has been a lucky day for me," thought Job Stanton. "I've got ten dollars for writing my name, and it isn't often I earn as much as that in a week."

The trader seemed equally pleased, and the two parted in mutual good spirits.

The note was for three months, or ninety days, and Job Stanton thought no more about it. Why should he? Richmond had expressly told him that it was a mere form, and he supposed that this was the case. The ten dollars went to buy new dresses—not very expensive, of