The Young Miner | Page 5

empty.
"Better luck next time, stranger," said Jack, carelessly. "Take a drink
before you go?"
Peabody accepted the invitation, and soon after staggered into the tent
occupied by Tom and his friend Ferguson.

"What's the matter, Mr. Peabody?" asked Tom. "Are you sick?"
"Yes," answered Peabody, sinking to the floor. "Something's the matter
with my head. I don't feel well."
"Have you been to the saloon, Mr. Peabody?" asked Ferguson.
"Yes," answered the Bostonian.
"And while there you drank some of their vile whiskey, didn't you?"
"I'm a free man, Mr. Ferguson. If I choose to drink, what--what
business is it--yours?"
"None, except as a friend I advise you not to go there again."
Further inquiries elicited the facts about the gambling, and Ferguson
and Tom seriously remonstrated with Peabody, who, however, insisted
that Mr. Jack, as he called him, was a hospitable gentleman.
The dust which Peabody had lost should have been paid to Capt.
Fletcher, as his share of the expenses that same evening. Of course this
was now impossible. Fletcher warned him that any subsequent failure
from the same cause would be followed by an exclusion from his table.
CHAPTER III.
HOW TOM GOT ON.
About this time Tom took account of stock. He had come out to
California with the noble and praiseworthy purpose of earning money
to help his father pay off the mortgage on his little farm. He was the
more anxious to succeed, because two hundred dollars of the amount
had been raised to defray his expenses across the continent. The
mortgage, amounting now to twenty-two hundred dollars, was held by
Squire Hudson, a wealthy resident of the same town, who hoped
eventually to find an excuse for fore-closing the mortgage, and ejecting
Mr. Nelson's family. He was actuated not alone by mercenary motives,

but also to gratify an ancient grudge. In early life Mrs. Nelson, Tom's
mother, had rejected the suit of the wealthy squire, and this insult, as he
chose to characterize it, he had never forgotten or forgiven.
Had Tom been aware of the Squire's feelings, towards his family, he
never would have been willing to have the mortgage increased for his
sake, much as he wished to go to California. But neither Tom nor his
father dreamed of Squire Hudson's secret animosity, and regarded his
willingness to advance the extra two hundred dollars as an evidence of
friendship.
But I have said that Tom took account of stock--in other words,
ascertained how much he was worth. First, then, of the money
borrowed for his trip--the original two hundred dollars--he had
twenty-five dollars left over. Besides this sum, after paying all
expenses, he had accumulated, by hard work and strict economy, fifty
dollars' worth of gold-dust.
"I wish father had this money," said Tom to his tent-mate, Ferguson. "I
am afraid he stands in need of it."
"There may be a way to send it to him, Tom."
"I wish there were."
"There's one of our party going to San Francisco next week. He can
buy a draft there, and send it to your father."
"Who is going?" asked Tom, eagerly.
"John Miles. You can trust him with the money, Tom."
"Of course I can. I'd trust John Miles with any sum."
"Who's that taking liberties with my name?" asked a manly voice, and
John Miles himself stepped into the tent, bending his head as he
entered.
"I hear you are going to San Francisco, John?"

"Yes, I start next week."
"Will you come back again?"
"I intend to. I am going to prospect a little, and buy some things for
myself and Captain Fletcher."
"Will you do me a favor?"
"Of course I will, if it isn't too large a one," answered Miles.
Tom explained what he wished, and John Miles cordially assented.
"You're a good boy, Tom," he said, "to think of your father so soon."
"I feel anxious about him," said Tom. "He raised money to send me out
here, and I don't want him to suffer for it."
"That's the right way to feel, Tom. I wish I had a father and mother to
look out for," said Miles, soberly, "but you're in better luck than I. Both
died when I was a mere lad. How much do you want to send?"
"Seventy-five dollars."
"Have you saved up so much already?" asked Miles, in surprise.
"Part of it I had left over when I got here."
"Will you have any left?"
"No."
"Isn't it well to reserve a little, then?"
"Oh, I shall have some more soon," answered Tom, sanguine, as most
boys are.
"Suppose you are sick?"

"If he is sick he shall suffer for nothing," said the Scotchman. "While I
have money, Tom shall not feel the want of it."
"Thank you, Mr. Ferguson," said Tom, gratefully.
"That