The Boy Scouts of the Geological Survey | Page 2

School of Mines, while talking with those enthusiastic young collegians
and their professor! How well he remembered the things they had said,
the advice they had given him! Yet now, after eight months of hard
work, constant hunting in the woods, and rigid economy, he seemed no
nearer the goal than he had been when the portals of High School
closed behind him forever. In fact, just as he was now placed in his

prospects he faced a bitter discouragement; he was on the threshold of a
new calamity.
His mother, who took in fine sewing, had developed a serious eye
trouble that threatened to put an end to her earning power, and to leave
her totally blind unless she submitted to a very delicate operation
within a few weeks. Of course, his mother's welfare was stronger than
any other consideration with Ralph, but he had a vague idea that
operations cost a great deal of money. At least, he had been told so by
his nearest neighbor, Tom Walsh, a farmer who lived several miles
from the town of Oakvale, which was the station from whence he
would have to take his mother by train to New York. A day's journey, a
week or more in the hospital, and incidental expenses---even with the
aid of his precious hoard and the inadequate sum these furs would bring
him---how could he ever raise enough to help her, in time?
With another deep sigh, he replaced the worn account book, and rested
his head against the mossy hollow in the stone, gazing disconsolately
up through the branches of the trees at the jagged cliffs that towered
high above the mountain trail for a while, nothing was heard in ravine
or glade save the brawling of the crystal-clear brook that went dashing
and tumbling over the stones of its rough bed, in a mad race to its fall
of twenty feet or more, or the crunching of succulent twigs and leaves
of cottonwood, or the snapping of dead wood, as old Keno moved
leisurely about from one spot to another. Side by side, on a jutting crag
that leaned far out over the brook, sat a splendid pair of golden eagles,
joyously preening their plumage in the spring sunshine. The birds
aroused no special interest in Ralph's mind, however, on this particular
morning; he had seen them many times before, while rambling over the
mountains with his father. But the sight of their glittering napes
awakened memories of that loved and admired man.
"Dad used to say---and I guess he believed it, too---that iron in paying
quantities lies just beneath the stones of our little farm," mused Ralph.
"We might become rich, mother and I, if we could only get money
enough to open up our mine."
One of the eagles, rare birds in that part of the Country, evidently

alarmed or annoyed at the approach of some intruder on their domain,
some animal or human being Unseen by Ralph, thrust out its head,
opened its beak, and uttered a harsh shrill cry; at which its mate walked
forward to the very edge of the crag, poised there for an instant, and
then, spreading wide wings, launched itself into the air and sailed
swiftly out of sight. It returned, however, in a few minutes and rejoined
its mate on the ledge of rock.
"Old King Eagle," called Ralph, whimsically, knowing well that his
voice would not carry above the roar of the brook, "I wish you'd tell me
where you get all your gold! I believe I'd go digging with my
finger-nails this morning if I only knew where to begin!"
As if in answer to his appeal, one golden feather drifted down and lay
glittering iridescently among the pebbles at his feet.
The lad sprang up with a laugh; then, going down on his knees, he
began to dig at the exact spot on which the feather fell. Imagination had
carried him for the moment to a point of almost superstitious energy.
But the spell passed quickly. With a scornful laugh, he straightened his
lanky form to its full height.
"Gee!" he exclaimed aloud. "I never supposed I could be such a fool!"
A low laugh sounded behind him, startlingly near, and, turning to
glance over his shoulder, he beheld a tall, lean, swarthy young man
dressed in a faded and soiled brown suit, with a soft felt hat pulled
down over his eyes, and leggings like those often worn by woodsmen.
"Seven kinds of a young fool, eh?" remarked the stranger, shifting a
long-handled axe and a heavy wooden mallet which he carried from his
shoulder to the ground. "Well, you ain't no fool, boy, an' I know it, an'
that's why I follered you up this trail. I want ter have a