Gold Seekers of 49 | Page 8

put him on the sofa.

Oh, George!" and she called to Mr. Adams. "Is he badly frozen,
Charley?" she asked, as Charley, tugging away, passed her.
"I don't think so, ma'am," replied the long-nosed man, speaking up. "No,
ma'am. Not yet. He's fairly limber." And he scolded, to the "tramp":
"Come on, now! You weigh a ton, with all your ballast."
Carrying and guiding the man, both, they continued on through the hall,
into the pleasant sitting-room lighted by a whale-oil lamp and heated
by a large wood-stove. At the call of his wife, Mr. Adams had hastily
come from the back part of the house.
"Hello," he greeted. "What's here? Who is he, Charley?"
Charley's father was a tall man (he stood six feet one inch in his
stockinged feet), and before the war he had been powerfully muscled.
Now he was worn thin, and was a little stooped; and because of the
wound in his knee, from a copper bullet, he limped. His full beard,
trimmed around, was brown, but his eyes were a bright keen blue.
Charley thought him the handsomest man in the world--and about the
biggest.
"Somebody they've taken out of a stairway," explained Mrs. Adams, to
him. "He was freezing. I told them to put him on the sofa."
"I should say so!" ejaculated Mr. Adams, and limped forward to help.
Mrs. Adams quickly rearranged the knitted spread and the pillow; and
with Mr. Adams attending to the feet end of the rescued stranger and
Charley and the long-nosed man attending to the body and head, on the
sofa the unknown was deposited.
"He's so thinly clothed!" cried Mrs. Adams, hovering over. "I'll get
some hot milk." And away she bustled, for the kitchen.
"Let's take off his coat and boots," directed Mr. Adams, with soldierly
decision. "Hope his feet aren't frozen." And he worked at the boots, to
haul them from the cold, stiff feet.

Charley and the long-nosed man had a harder time with the coat. The
unknown resisted, as before. He had opened his eyes (they were vacant
and frightened) and had roused a little more strength. He even shoved
the long-nosed man back.
"You," he appealed, huskily, to Charley, whom he seemed to accept as
his friend. "You--take it."
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" ejaculated the long-nosed man. "There's
gratitude for you!"
But he stood back, while Charley went ahead removing the coat. The
unknown grasped the pockets, for the last time, and tried to hand them
on to Charley.
"Keep it. You----" and he fell back, exhausted.
"We don't want your coat, my man," assured Mr. Adams, briskly
rubbing the feet.
"He's got something in the pockets, dad," explained Charley.
"Something heavy."
"Look and see, then," bade the long-nosed man. "Now's your chance."
"Shall I?" queried Charley, of his father, doubtfully, holding the coat.
"Why, yes, if you want to. Perhaps we ought to know."
"Here's the milk," announced Mrs. Adams, hurrying in bearing glass
and steaming pitcher.
Charley, with the long-nosed man peering curiously, and Mr. and Mrs.
Adams looking, as well, fished out the weight from the right-hand coat
pocket. It was a little buckskin sack, round and heavy with its contents.
"By thunder!" exclaimed the long-nosed man. "Hooray! I suspicioned it.
This fellow's from the Californy gold mines, and that sack's stuffed
with gold dust, as they call it. Open her up and see. Where's the other

one? He's got the mate in t'other pocket, I'll bet you."
"Hold on, Charley. Don't open it," ordered Mr. Adams, as Charley
fumbled with the string tied tightly around the puckered mouth of the
little sack. "It isn't yours."
"Pass it to me and I'll open it," invited the long-nosed man. "Let me feel.
Yes, sirs; that's gold dust, all right; several hundred dollars' worth."
"We'll not open it, just the same," insisted Mr. Adams, firmly. "Put the
sack back in the pocket, Charley, and hang coat and all away. Wait,
though. Look through the other pockets and see if there are any letters
or such things to tell who he is."
Charley sought. In the other side pocket he felt another buckskin sack,
round and heavy (just as the long-nosed man, who was watching
closely, had predicted), but the inside pockets contained nothing at all.
The unknown murmured weakly.
"I'd better give him a little hot milk, if he can drink it, hadn't I?"
proffered Mrs. Adams; she poured a few inches into the glass and held
it to his bearded lips. He tried to sip--did sip, greedily, and sank back.
Charley started off with the coat, to hang it over a chair.
"Here, you!" objected the long-nosed man. "What are you going to do?
Half that coat's mine, remember. I helped fetch him in. Half the plunder
comes to me."
"That's