The Young Miner | Page 7

that man."
Presently Miles rose to go.

"I'll take care of your money, Tom," he said, "and do my best to get it
safely to your father."
"Thank you, John."
As Miles left the tent, he did not observe a crouching figure on the
other side of it. It was the figure of Bill Crane, a crony of Missouri Jack,
in fact, the man who helped him to fleece poor Peabody of his scanty
hoard.
Bill looked after Miles enviously.
"I wonder how much money he's got?" thought Bill. "I'd like some of it,
for I'm bust. I must tell Jack. I don't dare to tackle him alone."
CHAPTER IV.
A FOILED ROBBER.
In the grand rush to the newly discovered gold-fields all classes were
represented. There were men of education, representatives of all the
learned professions, men versed in business, and along with them
adventurers and men of doubtful antecedents, graduates of prisons and
penitentiaries. Bill Crane, introduced in the last chapter, belonged to
the latter undesirable class. He had served a term at Sing-Sing as a
housebreaker, and later another term in a Western penitentiary. He had
come to California with a prejudice against honest labor, and a
determination to make a living by the use of the peculiar talents on
which he had hitherto relied. He had spent a week at River Bend,
chiefly at the saloon of Missouri Jack, whom he found a congenial
spirit, and had picked up a little money from flats like the young
Bostonian; but, on the whole, he had found it an unprofitable field for
the exercise of his special talents.
"I must make a raise somehow," he bethought himself, "and then I'll
make tracks for some other settlement."
Precisely how to raise the fund of which he stood in need was difficult

to decide. Moneyed men were not plenty at River Bend. Captain
Fletcher and his party had been at work but a short time, and were not
likely to have collected much.
As we know, Bill Crane overheard a part of the closing conversation
between Tom and John Miles. From this he learned that Miles, besides
his own money, would be in charge of seventy-five dollars belonging to
our young hero. It was not much, but it was something.
"If the whole doesn't come to over two hundred dollars, I can make it
do," thought Crane. "It will get me out of this beastly hole, and carry
me to San Francisco."
John Miles slept by himself under a small tent at the northern end of the
small encampment. He looked like a man who ate well and slept well,
and this would be favorable to Bill Crane, who proposed to effect the
robbery in the night. He had half a mind to secure the aid of Missouri
Jack, but then Jack would expect to go shares in the "plunder," and
there was likely to be little enough for one. So Bill decided to make the
attempt alone.
In a small camp like that at River Bend, the movements and plans of
each individual were generally known. So it was generally understood
that John Miles intended to start on Thursday for the city.
The previous evening he spent with Tom and Ferguson, with whom he
was more intimate than any others of the party. He would not have
been drawn to the Scotchman, but for his being Tom's room-mate.
Through him he came to appreciate and respect the Scot's sterling
virtues, and to overlook his dry, phlegmatic manner.
"I hope you'll have good luck, Mr. Miles," said Tom.
"Thank you, my boy."
"I would join with my young friend Tom," said Ferguson, "if I were
quite clear in my mind whether good luck is the right term to use."

"Don't you think some men are luckier than others, Mr. Ferguson?"
asked Tom.
"Some men are more successful, doubtless; but what we call good luck,
generally comes from greater industry, good judgment, and, above all,
the prompt use of opportunities."
"There is something in that," said Miles; "but when two men work side
by side with equal industry, and one finds a nugget worth thousands of
dollars, while the other plods along at a few dollars a day, isn't there
some luck there?"
"It may be so," said the Scotchman, cautiously, "but such cases are
exceptional."
"So one boy is born to an inheritance of wealth and another to an
inheritance of hard work. Isn't there any luck there?"
"The luck may be on the side of the poor boy," was the reply. "He is
further removed from temptation."
John Miles laughed.
"Well, at any rate, it seems you believe in luck after all. I am sure you
both wish me to be prosperous, whether you call it luck or by some
other name.