by Bret Harte
THE YOUNGEST PROSPECTOR IN CALAVERAS
He was scarcely eight when it was believed that he could have reasonablylaid claim to the above title. But he never did. He was a small boy,intensely freckled to the roots of his tawny hair, with even a suspicionof it in his almond-shaped but somewhat full eyes, which were thegreenish hue of a ripe gooseberry. All this was very unlike his parents,from whom he diverged in resemblance in that fashion so often seen inthe Southwest of America, as if the youth of the boundless West hadstruck a new note of independence and originality, overriding allconservative and established rules of heredity. Something of thiswas also shown in a singular and remarkable reticence and firmness ofpurpose, quite unlike his family or schoolfellows. His mother wasthe wife of a teamster, who had apparently once "dumped" his family,consisting of a boy and two girls, on the roadside at Burnt Spring,with the canvas roof of his wagon to cover them, while he proceeded todeliver other freight, not so exclusively his own, at other stationsalong the road, returning to them on distant and separate occasions withslight additions to their stock, habitation, and furniture. In this waythe canvas roof was finally shingled and the hut enlarged, and, underthe quickening of a smiling California sky and the forcing of a teemingCalifornia soil, the chance-sown seed took root and became known asMedliker's Ranch, or "Medliker's," with its bursting garden patch andits three sheds or "lean-to's."
The girls helped their mother in a childish, imitative way; the boy,John Bunyan, after a more desultory and original fashion--when he wasnot "going to" or ostensibly "coming from" school, for he was seldomactually there. Something of this fear was in the mind of Mrs. Medlikerone morning as she looked up from the kettle she was scrubbing, withpremonition of "more worriting," to behold the Reverend Mr. Staples, thelocal minister, hale John Bunyan Medliker into the shanty with one hand.Letting Johnny go, he placed his back against the door and wiped hisface with a red handkerchief. Johnny dropped into a chair, furtivelyglancing at the arm by which Mr. Staples had dragged him, and feeling itwith the other hand to see if it was really longer.
"I've been requested by the schoolmaster," said the Rev. Mr. Staples,putting his handkerchief back into his broad felt hat with a gaspingsmile, "to bring our young friend before you for a matter of counsel anddiscipline. I have done so, Sister Medliker, with some difficulty,"--helooked down at John Bunyan, who again felt his arm and was satisfiedthat it WAS longer--"but we must do our dooty, even with difficultyto ourselves, and, perhaps, to others. Our young friend, John Bunyan,stands on a giddy height--on slippery places, and," continued Mr.Staples, with a lofty disregard to consecutive metaphor, "his feetare taking fast hold of destruction." Here the child drew a breath ofrelief, possibly at the prospect of being on firm ground of any kindat last; but Sister Medliker, to whom the Staples style of exordium hadonly a Sabbath significance, turned to her offspring abruptly:--
"And what's these yer doin's now, John? and me a slavin' to send ye toschool?"
Thus appealed to, Johnny looked for a reply at his feet, at his arm, andat the kettle. Then he said: "I ain't done nothin', but he"--indicatingStaples--"hez been nigh onter pullin' off my arm."
"It's now almost a week ago," continued Mr. Staples, waving aside theinterruption with a smile of painful Christian tolerance, "or perhapsten days--I won't be too sure--that the schoolmaster discoveredthat Johnny had in his possession two or three flakes of fine rivergold--each of the value of half a dollar, or perhaps sixty-two and onehalf cents. On being questioned where he got them he refused to say;although subsequently he alleged that he had 'found' them. It being asingle instance, he was given the benefit of the doubt, and nothing morewas said about it. But a few days after he was found trying to pass off,at Mr. Smith's store, two other flakes of a different size, and a smallnugget of the value of four or five dollars. At this point I was calledin; he repeated to me, I grieve to say, the same untruthfulness, andwhen I suggested to him the obvious fact that he had taken it from oneof the miner's sluice boxes and committed the grievous sin of theft,he wickedly denied it--so that we are prevented from carrying out theChristian command of restoring it even ONE fold, instead of four or fivefold as the Mosaic Law might have required. We were, alas! unable toascertain anything from the miners themselves, though I grieve to saythey one and all agreed that their 'take' that week was not at all whatthey had expected. I even went so far as to admit the possibility of hisown statement, and besought him at least to show me where he had foundit. He at first refused with great stubbornness of temper, but laterconsented to accompany me privately this afternoon to the spot." Mr.Staples paused, and sinking his voice gloomily, and with his eyes fixedupon Johnny, continued slowly: "When I state that, after several timestrying to evade me on the way, he finally led me to the top of BaldHill, where there is not a scrap of soil, and not the slightestindication, and still persisted that he found it THERE, you willunderstand, Sister Medliker, the incorrigibility of his conduct, andhow he has added the sin of 'false witness' to his breaking the EighthCommandment. But I leave him to your Christian discipline! Let us hopethat if, through his stiff-necked obduracy, he has haply escaped thevengeance of man's law, he will not escape the rod of the domestictabernacle."
"Ye kin leave him to me," said Mrs. Medliker, in her anxiety to get ridof the parson, assuming a confidence she was far from feeling.
"So be it, Sister Medliker," said Staples, drawing a long, satisfactorybreath; "and let us trust that when you have rastled with his fleshand spirit, you will bring us joyful tidings to Wednesday's Mother'sMeeting."
He clapped his soft hat on his head, cast another glance at the wickedJohnny, opened the door with his hand behind him, and backed himselfinto the road.
"Now, Johnny," said Mrs. Medliker, setting her lips together as the doorclosed, "look me right in the face, and say where you stole that gold."
But Johnny evidently did not think that his mother's face at that momentoffered any moral support, for he did not look at her; but, after gazingat the kettle, said slowly, "I didn't steal no gold."
"Then," said Mrs. Medliker triumphantly, "if ye didn't steal it, you'dsay right off HOW ye got it."
Children are often better logicians than their elders. To John Bunyanthe stealing of gold and the mere refusal to say where he got it weretwo distinct and separate things; that the negation of the secondproposition meant the affirmation of the first he could not accept. Butthen children are also imitative, and fearful of the older intellect. Itstruck Johnny that his mother might be right, and that to her it reallymeant the same thing. So, after a moment's silence he replied moreconfidently, "I suppose I stoled it."
But he was utterly unprepared for the darkening change in his mother'sface, and her furious accents. "You stole it?--you STOLE it, you limb!And you sit there and brazenly tell me! Who did you steal it from? Tellme quick, afore I wring it out of you!"
Completely astounded and bewildered at this new turn of affairs, Johnnyagain fell back upon the dreadful truth, and gasped, "I don't know."
"You don't know, you devil! Did you take it from Frazer's?"
"No."
"From the Simmons Brothers?"
"No."
"From the Blazing Star Company?"
"No."
"From a store?"
"No."
"Then, in created goodness!--WHERE did you get it?"
Johnny raised his brown-gooseberry eyes for a single instant to hismother's and said, "I found it."
Mrs. Medliker gasped again and stared hopelessly at the ceiling. Yet shewas conscious of a certain relief. After all, it was POSSIBLE that hehad found it--liar as he undoubtedly was.
"Then why don't you say where, you awful child?"
"Don't want to!"
Johnny would have liked to add that he saw no reason why he should tell.Other people who found gold were not obliged to tell. There was JimBrody, who had struck a lead and kept the locality secret. Nobody forcedhim to tell. Nobody called him a thief; nobody had dragged him about bythe arm until he showed
it. Why was it wrong that a little boy shouldfind gold? It wasn't agin the Commandments. Mr. Staples had never got upand said, "Thou shalt not find gold!" His mother had never made him praynot to find it! The schoolmaster had never read him awful stories ofboys who found gold and never said anything about it, and so came to ahorrid end. All this crowded his small boy's mind, and, crowding, chokedhis small boy's utterance.
"You jest wait till your father comes home," said Mrs. Medliker, "andhe'll see whether you 'want to' or not. And now get yourself off to bedand stay there."
Johnny knew that his father--whose teams had increased to five wagons,and whose route extended forty miles further--was not due for a week,and that the catastrophe was yet remote. His present punishment he hadexpected. He went into the adjoining bedroom, which he occupied withhis sister, and began to undress. He lingered for some time over onestocking, and finally cautiously removed from it a small piece of flakegold which he had kept concealed all day under his big toe, to thegreat discomfort of that member. But this was only a small, ordinaryself-martyrdom of boyhood. He scratched a boyish hieroglyphic on themetal, and when his mother's back was turned scraped a small hole in theadobe wall, inserted the gold in it, and covered it up with a plastermade of the moistened debris. It was safe--so was his secret--for itneed not, perhaps, be stated here that Johnny HAD told the truth and HADhonestly found the gold! But where?--yes, that was his own secret! Andnow, Johnny, with the instinct of all young animals, dismissed the wholesubject from his mind, and, reclining comfortably upon his arm, fellinto an interesting study of the habits of the red ant as exemplified ina crack of the adobe wall, and with the aid of a burnt match succeededin diverting for the rest of the afternoon the attention of a wholelaborious colony.
The next morning, however, brought trouble to him in the curiosity ofhis sisters, heightened by their belief that he could at any moment betaken off to prison--which was their understanding of their mother'sstory. I grieve to say that to them this invested him with a certainromantic heroism, from the gratification of which the hero himself wasnot exempt. Nevertheless, he successfully evaded their questioning, andon broader impersonal grounds. As girls, it was none of their business!He wasn't a-going to tell them HIS secrets! And what did they know aboutgold, anyway? They couldn't tell it from brass! The attitude of hismother was, however, still perplexing. She was no longer activelyindignant, but treated him with a mysterious reserve that was themore appalling. The fact was that she no longer believed in histheft,--indeed, she had never seriously accepted it,--but his strangereticence and secretiveness piqued her curiosity, and even made her alittle afraid of him. The capacity for keeping a secret she believed wasmanlike, and reminded her--for no reason in the world--of Jim Medliker,her husband, whom she feared. Well, she would let them fight it outbetween them. More than that, she was finally obliged to sink herreserve in employing him in the necessary "chores" for the house, andhe was sent on an errand to the country store at the cross-roads. But hefirst extracted his gold-flake from the wall, and put it in his pocket.
On arriving at the store, it was plain even to his boyish perceptionsthat the minister had circulated his miserable story. Two or three ofthe customers spoke to each other in a whisper, and looked at him. Morethan that, when he began his homeward journey he saw that two of theloungers were evidently following him. Half in timidity and half inboyish mischief he once or twice strayed from the direct road, andsnatched a fearful joy in observing their equal divergence. As he passedMr. Staples's house he saw that reverend gentleman sneak out of hisback gate, and, without seeing the two others, join in the inquisitorialprocession. But the events of the past day had had their quickeningeffect upon Johnny's intellect. A brilliantly wicked thought struck him.As he was passing a perfectly bare spot on the road he managed, withoutbeing noticed, to cast his glittering flake of gold on the sterileground at the other side of the road, where the minister's path wouldlie. Then, at a point where the road turned, he concealed himself in thebrush. The Reverend Mr. Staples hurried forward as he lost sight ofthe boy in the sweep of the road, but halted suddenly. Johnny's heartleaped. The minister looked around him, stooped, picked up the pieceof gold, thrust it hurriedly in his waistcoat pocket, and continued hisway. When he reached the turn of the road, before passing it, he availedhimself of his solitude to pause and again examine the treasure, andagain return it to his pocket. But, to Johnny's surprise, he hereturned back, walked quickly to the spot where he had found it, carefullyexamined the locality, kicking the loose soil and stones around with hisfeet until he had apparently satisfied himself that there was no more,and no gold-bearing indications in the soil. At this moment, however,the two other inquisitors came in sight, and Mr. Staples turnedquickly and hurried on. Before he had passed the brush where Johnny wasconcealed, the two men overtook him and exchanged greetings. They bothspoke of "Johnny" and his crime; of having followed him with a view offinding out where he went to procure his gold, and of his having againevaded them. Mr. Staples agreed with their purpose, but, to Johnny'sintense astonishment, SAID NOTHING ABOUT HIS OWN FIND! When they hadpassed on, the boy slipped from his place of concealment and followedthem at a distance until his own house came in view. Here the two mendiverged, but the minister continued on towards the other "store" andpost-office on the main road.
He would have told his mother what he had seen, and his surprise thatthe minister had not spoken of finding the gold to the other men, buthe was checked, first by his mother's attitude towards him, which wasclearly the same as the minister's, and, second, by the knowledgethat she would have condemned his dropping the gold in the minister'spath,--though he knew not WHY,--or asked his reason for it, which he wasequally sure he could not formulate, though he also knew not why. Butthat evening, as he was returning from the spring with water, he heardthe minister's voice in the kitchen. It had been a day of surprises andrevelations to Johnny, but the climax seemed to be reached as he enteredthe room; and he now stood transfixed and open-mouthed as he heard Mr.Staples say:--
"It's all very well, Sister Medliker, to comfort your heart with vainhopes and delusions. A mother's leanin's is the soul's deceivin's,--andyer leanin' on a broken reed. If the boy truly found that gold he'd havecome to ye and said: 'Behold, mother, I have found gold in the highwaysand byways; rejoice and be exceedin' glad!' and hev poured it inter yerlap. Yes," continued Mr. Staples aggressively to the boy, as he saw himstagger back with his pail in hand, "yes, sir, THAT would have been thecourse of a Christian child!"
For a moment Johnny felt the blood boiling in his ears, and a thousandwords seemed crowding in his throat. "Then"--he gasped and choked."Then"--he began again, and stopped with the suffocation of indignation.
But Mr. Staples saw in his agitation only an awakened conscience, and,nudging Mrs. Medliker, leaned eagerly forward for a reply. "Then," herepeated, with suave encouragement, "go on, Johnny! Speak it out!"
"Then," said Johnny, in a high, shrill falsetto that startled them,"then wot for did YOU pick up that piece o' gold in the road thisarternoon, and say nothin' of it to the men who followed ye? Ye did;I seed yer! And ye didn't say nothin' of it to anybody; and ye ain'tsayin' nothin' of it now ter maw! and ye've got it in yer vest! And it'smine, and I dropped it! Gimme it."
Astonishment, confusion, and rage swelled and empurpled Staples' face.It was HIS turn to gasp for breath. Yet in the same moment he madean angry dash at the boy. But Mrs. Medliker interfered. This was anentirely new feature in the case. Great is the power of gold. A singleglance at the minister's confusion had convinced her that Johnny'saccusation was true, and it was Johnny's MONEY--constructivelyHERS--that the minister was concealing. His mere possession of that goldhad more effect in straightening out her loose logic than any sense ofhypocrisy.
"You leave the boy be, Brother Staples," said Mrs. Medliker sharply. "Ireckon wot's his is hisn, spite of whar he got it."
Mr. Staples saw his mistake, and smiled painfully as he fumbled in hiswaistcoat pocket. "I believe I DID pick up some
thing," he said, "thatmay or may not have been gold, but I have dropped it again or thrownit away; and really it is of little concern in our moral lesson. For wehave only HIS word that it was really his! How do we KNOW it?"
"Cos it has my marks on it," said Johnny quickly; "it had a criss-crossI scratched on it. I kin tell it good enuf."
Mr. Staples turned suddenly pale and rose. "Of course," he said to Mrs.Medliker with painful dignity, "if you set so much value upon a mereworldly trifle, I will endeavor to find it. It may be in my otherpocket." He backed out of the door in his usual fashion, but instantlywent over to the post-office, where, as he afterwards alleged, he hadchanged the ore for coin in a moment of inadvertence. But Johnny'shieroglyphics were found on it, and in some mysterious way the story gotabout. It had two effects that Johnny did not dream of. It had forcedhis mother into an attitude of complicity with him; it had raised up forhim a single friend. Jake Stielitzer, quartz miner, had declared thatBurnt Spring was "playing it low down" on Johnny! That if they reallybelieved that the boy took gold from their sluice boxes, it was theirduty to watch their CLAIMS and not the boy. That it was only theirexcuse for "snooping" after him, and they only wanted to find his"strike," which was as much his as their claims were their own! Allthis with great proficiency of epithet, but also a still more recognizedproficiency with the revolver, which made the former respected.
"That's the real nigger in the fence, Johnny," said Jake, twirling hishuge mustache, "and they only want to know where your lead is,--anddon't yer tell 'em! Let 'em bile over with waitin' first, and that'llput the fire out. Does yer pop know?"
"No," said Johnny.
"Nor yer mar?"
"No."
Jake whistled. "Then it's only YOU, yourself?"
Johnny nodded violently, and his brown eyes glistened.
"It's a heap of information to be packed away in a chap of your size,Johnny. Makes you feel kinder crowded inside, eh? MUST keep it toyourself, eh?"
"Have to," said Johnny with a gasp that was a little like a sigh.
It caused Jake to look at him attentively. "See here, Johnny," he said,"now ef ye wanted to tell somebody about it,--somebody as was a friendof yours,--ME, f'r instance?"
Johnny slowly withdrew the freckled, warty little hand that had beenresting confidingly in Jake's and gently sidled away from him. Jakeburst into a loud laugh.
"All right, Johnny boy," he said with a hearty slap upon the boy's back,"keep yer head shut ef yer wanter! Only ef anybody else comes bummin'round ye, like this, jest turn him over TO ME, and I'll lift him outerhis boots!"
Jake kept his word, and his distance thereafter. Indeed, it was afterthis first and last conversation with him that the influence of hispowerful protection was so strong that all active criticisms of Johnnyceased, and only a respectful surveillance of his movements lingered inthe settlement. I do not know that this was altogether distasteful tothe child; it would have been strange, indeed, if he had not feltat times exalted by this mysterious influence that he seemed tohave acquired over his fellow creatures. If he were merely huntingblackberries in the brush, he was always sure, sooner or later, to finda ready hand offered to help and accompany him; if he trapped a squirrelor tracked down a wild bees' hoard, he generally found a smiling facewatching him. Prospectors sometimes stopped him with: "Well, Johnny, asa chipper and far-minded boy, now WHAR would YOU advise us to dig?" Igrieve to say that Johnny was not above giving his advice,--and that itwas invariably of not the smallest use to the recipient.
And so the days passed. Mr. Medliker's absence was protracted, andthe hour of retribution and punishment still seemed far away. Theblackberries ripened and dried upon the hillside, and the squirrelshad gathered their hoards; the bees no longer came and went throughthe thicket, but Johnny was still in daily mysterious possession ofhis grains of gold! And then one day--after the fate of all heroichumanity--his secret was imperilled by the blandishments andmachinations of the all-powerful sex.
Florry Fraser was a little playmate of Johnny's. Why, with his doubts ofhis elder sister's intelligence and integrity, he should have selected achild two years younger, and of singular simplicity, was, like his othersecret, his own. What SHE saw in him to attract her was equally strange;possibly it may have been his brown-gooseberry eyes or his warts; butshe was quite content to trot after him, like a young squaw, carryinghis "bow-arrow," or his "trap," supremely satisfied to share hiswoodland knowledge or his scanter confidences. For nobody who knewJohnny suspected that she was privy to his great secret. Howbeit,wherever his ragged straw hat, thatched with his tawny hair, wasdetected in the brush, the little nankeen sunbonnet of Florry was sureto be discerned not far behind. For two weeks they had not seen eachother. A fell disease, nurtured in ignorance, dirt, and carelessness,was striking right and left through the valleys of the foothills,and Florry, whose sister had just recovered from an attack, had beensequestered with her. But one morning, as Johnny was bringing his woodfrom the stack behind the house, he saw, to his intense delight, apicket of the road fence slipped aside by a small red hand, and a momentafter Florry squeezed herself through the narrow opening. Her roundcheeks were slightly flushed, and there was a scrap of red flannelaround her plump throat that heightened the whiteness of her skin.
"My!" said Johnny, with half-real, half-affected admiration, "howsplendiferous!"
"Sore froat," said Florry, in a whisper, trying to insert her two chubbyfingers between the bandage and her chin. "I mussent go outer the gardenpatch! I mussent play in the woods, for I'll be seed! I mussent staylong, for they'll ketch me outer bed!"
"Outer bed?" repeated Johnny, with intense admiration, as he perceivedfor the first time that Florry was in a flannel nightgown, with barelegs and feet.
"Ess."
Whereupon these two delightful imps chuckled and wagged their heads witha sincere enjoyment that this mere world could not give! Johnny slippedoff his shoes and stockings and hurriedly put them on the infant Florry,securing them from falling off with a thick cord. This added to theirenjoyment.
"We can play cubby house in the stone heap," whispered Florry.
"Hol' on till I tote in this wood," said Johnny. "You hide till I comeback."
Johnny swiftly delivered his load with an alacrity he had never shownbefore. Then they played "cubby house"--not fifty feet from the cabin,with a hushed but guilty satisfaction. But presently it palled. Theirdomain was too circumscribed for variety. "Robinson Crusoe up the tree"was impossible, as being visible from the house windows. Johnny was athis wits' end. Florry was fretful and fastidious. Then a great thoughtstruck him and left him cold. "If I show you a show, you won't tell?" hesaid suddenly.
"No."
"Wish yer-ma-die?"
"Ess."
"Got any penny?"
"No."
"Got any slate pencil?"
"No."
"Ain't got any pins nor nuthin'? You kin go in for a pin."
But Florry had none of childhood's fluctuating currency with her,having, so to speak, no pockets.
"Well," said Johnny, brightening up, "ye kin go in for luv."
The child clipped him with her small arms and smiled, and, Johnnyleading the way, they crept on all fours through the thick ferns untilthey paused before a deep fissure in the soil half overgrown withbramble. In its depths they could hear the monotonous trickle of water.It was really the source of the spring that afterwards reappeared fiftyyards nearer the road, and trickled into an unfailing pool known as theBurnt Spring, from the brown color of the surrounding bracken. Itwas the water supply of the ranch, and the reason for Mr. Medliker'soriginal selection of that site. Johnny lingered for an instant, lookedcarefully around, and then lowered himself into the fissure. A momentlater he reached up his arms to Florry, lowered her also, and bothdisappeared from view. Yet from time to time their voices came faintlyfrom below--with the gurgle of water--as of festive gnomes at play.
At the end of ten minutes they reappeared, a little muddy, a littlebedraggled, but
flushed and happy. There were two pink spots on Florry'scheeks, and she clasped something tightly in her little red fist.
"There," said Johnny, when they were seated in the straw again, "nowmind you don't tell."
But here suddenly Florry's lips began to quiver, and she gave vent to asmall howl of anguish.
"You ain't bit by a trant'ler nor nuthin'?" said Johnny anxiously. "Hushup!"
"N--o--o! But"--
"But what?" said Johnny.
"Mar said I MUST tell! Mar said I was to fin' out where you get thetruly gold! Mar said I was to get you to take me," howled Florry, in anagony of remorse.
Johnny gasped. "You Injin!" he began.
"But I won't--Johnny!" said Florry, clutching his leg frantically. "Iwon't and I sha'n't! I ain't no Injin!"
Then, between her sobs, she told him how her mother and Mr. Staples hadsaid that she was to ask Johnny the next time they met to take her wherethey found the "truly gold," and she was to remember where it was andto tell them. And they were going to give her a new dolly and a hunk ofgingerbread. "But I won't--and I sha'n't!" she said passionately. Shewas quite pale again.
Johnny was convinced, but thoughtful. "Tell 'em," he said hoarsely,"tell 'em a big whopper! They won't know no better. They'll never guesswhere." And he briefly recounted the wild-goose chase he had given theminister.
"And get the dolly and the cake," said Florry, her eyes shining throughher tears.
"In course," said Johnny. "They'll get the dolly back, but you kin haveeated the cake first." They looked at each other, and their eyes dancedtogether over this heaven-sent inspiration. Then Johnny took off hershoes and stockings, rubbed her cold feet with his dirty handkerchief,and said: "Now you trot over to your mar!"
He helped her through the loose picket of the fence and was turning awaywhen her faint voice again called him.
"Johnny!"
He turned back; she was standing on the other side of the fence holdingout her arms to him. He went to her with shining eyes, lifted her up,and from her hot but loving little lips took a fatal kiss.
For only an hour later Mrs. Fraser found Florry in her bed, tossing witha high fever and a light head. She was talking of "Johnny" and "gold,"and had a flake of the metal in her tiny fist. When Mr. Staples was sentfor, and with the mother and father, hung anxiously above her bed, totheir eager questioning they could only find out that Florry had been toa high mountain, ever so far away, and on the top of it there was goldlying around, and a shining figure was giving it away to the people.
"And who were the people, Florry dear," said Mr. Staples persuasively;"anybody ye know here?"
"They woz angels," said Florry, with a frightened glance over hershoulder.
I grieve to say that Mr. Staples did not look as pleased at thecelestial vision as he might have, and poor Mrs. Fraser probably sawthat in her child's face which drove other things from her mind. Yet Mr.Staples persisted:--
"And who led you to this beautiful mountain? Was it Johnny?"
"No."
"Who then?"
Florry opened her eyes on the speaker. "I fink it was Dod," she said,and closed them again.
But here Dr. Duchesne hurried in, and after a single glance at the childhustled Mr. Staples from the room. For there were grave complicationsthat puzzled him, Florry seemed easier and quieter under his kindlyvoice and touch, but did not speak again,--and so, slowly sinking,passed away that night in a dreamless sleep. This was followed by a madpanic at Burnt Spring the next day, and Mrs. Medliker fled with her twogirls to Sacramento, leaving Johnny, ostensibly strong and active, tokeep house until his father's return. But Mr. Medliker's return wasagain delayed, and in the epidemic, which had now taken a fast hold ofthe settlement, Johnny's secret--and indeed the boy himself--was quiteforgotten. It was only on Mr. Medliker's arrival it was known that hehad been lying dangerously ill, alone, in the abandoned house. In hisstrange reticence and firmness of purpose he had kept his sufferings tohimself,--as he had his other secret,--and they were revealed only inthe wasted, hollow figure that feebly opened the door to his father.
On which intelligence Mr. Staples was, as usual, promptly on the spotwith his story of Johnny's secret to the father, and his usual eagerquestioning to the fast-sinking boy. "And now, Johnny," he said, leaningover the bed, "tell us ALL. There is One from whom no secrets are hid.Remember, too, that dear Florry, who is now with the angels, has alreadyconfessed."
Perhaps it was because Johnny, even at that moment, hated the man;perhaps it was because at that moment he loved and believed in Florry,or perhaps it was only that because at that moment he was nearer thegreater Truth than his questioner, but he said, in a husky voice, "Youlie!"
Staples drew back with a flushed face, but lips that writhed in apained and still persistent eagerness. "But, Johnny, at least tell uswhere--wh--wow--wow."
I am obliged to admit that these undignified accents came from Mr.Staples' own lips, and were due to the sudden pressure of Mr. Medliker'sarm around his throat. The teamster was irascible and prompt throughmuch mule-driving, and his arm was, from the same reason, strong andsinewy. Mr. Staples felt himself garroted and dragged from the room,and only came to under the stars outside, with the hoarse voice of Mr.Medliker in his ears:--
"You're a minister of the gospel, I know, but ef ye say another word tomy Johnny, I'll knock the gospel stuffin' out of ye. Ye hear me! I'VEDRIVEN MULES AFORE!"
He then strode back into the room. "Ye needn't answer, Johnny, he'sgone."
But so, too, had Johnny, for he never answered the question in thisworld, nor, please God, was he required to in the next. He lay still anddead. The community was scandalized the next day when Mr. Medliker sentfor a minister from Sacramento to officiate at his child's funeral, inplace of Mr. Staples, and then the subject was dropped.
*****
But the influence of Johnny's hidden treasure still remained as asuperstition in the locality. Prospecting parties were continually madeup to discover the unknown claim, but always from evidence and dataaltogether apocryphal. It was even alleged that a miner had one nightseen the little figures of Johnny and Florry walking over the hilltop,hand in hand, but that they had vanished among the stars at the verymoment he thought he had discovered their secret. And then it wasforgotten; the prosperous Mr. Medliker, now the proprietor of astage-coach route, moved away to Sacramento; Medliker's Ranch became astation for changing horses, and, as the new railway in time supersededeven that, sank into a blacksmith's shop on the outskirts of the newtown of Burnt Spring. And then one day, six years after, news fell as abolt from the blue!
It was thus recorded in the county paper: "A piece of rare good fortune,involving, it is said, the development of a lead of extraordinaryvalue, has lately fallen to the lot of Mr. John Silsbee, the popularblacksmith, on the site of the old Medliker Ranch. In clearing out thefailing water-course known as Burnt Spring, Mr. Silsbee came upon a richledge or pocket at the actual source of the spring,--a fissure in theground a few rods from the road. The present yield has been estimatedto be from eight to ten thousand dollars. But the event is consideredas one of the most remarkable instances of the vagaries of 'prospecting'ever known, as this valuable 'pot-hole' existed undisturbed for EIGHTYEARS not FIFTY YARDS from the old cabin that was in former times theresidence of J. Medliker, Esq., and the station of the Pioneer StageCompany, and was utterly unknown and unsuspected by the previousinhabitants! Verily truth is stranger than fiction!"