While Martha Scranton mended by the open fireplace that evening, Asa sat still and thought—dreamed dreams, half wildly perhaps, of better days to come. They would never come in his present poverty. He would make one last venture. His family could live without him, for his wife for some time had earned all the money which they used. He was not an indolent man, not a man who lacked ability, but, like thousands of others, he seemed to be in the current of failure, and was drifting down the stream to despair. He dreamed about the mines of Colorado that night as he slept, and during the many waking hours planned how he could reach the favored land. He could sell his silver watch, and pawn his overcoat, even if the coming winter pinched him with cold. By morning he had decided. He ate breakfast quietly; patted little John upon the head, with a look of unusual pathos in his blue eyes; told Martha that he was going out to look for work; obtained what little money he could; hurried down the street to the station, wiping, with the back of his hand, the tears from his cheeks as he looked only once toward his home; and took the train for the mines. For days he ate little, hoarding every cent to keep him from starvation till he should find work. At Granite Camp, on the side of the mountain, all was bustle and confusion. The varied machinery, the eager miners, the enthusiasm, the warm-hearted familiarity,—all excited Asa. He was ready for any kind of work, and soon found it. Mining was hard,—no work is easy,—but he would earn and save, and later prospect for himself, get hold of claims, and “strike it rich.” Weeks and months passed. No letter came from Martha, for she did not know where Asa had gone. She wept when she found that she was left alone—wept with that half-deadened sense of loss which persons feel who have had the cheer of life taken out of them by the blows of circumstance. Asa had been kind to her and the children, but in these days she had little time to think of love or loss, for work was never-ending, and rent and fuel were certainties. So she toiled on, and guessed that he had gone to seek his fortune in the mines, and clothed the children as well as she could, and sewed and washed and prayed and waited. Years came and went. Asa Scranton in the mines and Martha Scranton at home were growing older. The miners liked Asa, though he joined little in their merry-making, and got the name of being miserly. They could not know that he was saving his money to make Martha rich. Sometimes, when he had earned money enough to work a claim, and had gotten other parties interested, he dug for treasure, but always failed. Then the hole was left in the mountain, and Asa went back to his daily digging in the mines.