The Golden Chimney: A Boy's MineGerberding, Elizabeth
General
The Golden Chimney: A Boy's Mine
Gerberding, Elizabeth
Boys -- Fiction; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; San Francisco (Calif.) -- Fiction
“Yes. We don’t do any work on Sunday.”
“Well, it’s come true, Beth,” he said when they were well away from the
house; “most of it has, at any rate.”
“O, I’m so glad!”
“We’re far enough along now to form a pretty correct figure of what
there is in sight, and we’ve got four weeks more to work in.”
“How much will you make?”
“Well, how much do you guess?”
“O, I don’t know,” the girl earnestly replied. “You say it’s come true,
and you must mean your fortune we used to talk about; so I guess you’re
not disappointed. Everybody’s so curious to know what you’re making.”
“They can keep on being curious. I had enough of people’s curiosity
before,” he grimly added. “The work on the beach we have to do outside,
but we don’t allow a soul inside the gates now.”
“I know you don’t; and they say the reason is that you’re not cleaning
up anything and don’t want any one to know it.”
Ben gave a dry laugh. “Or else we don’t want any one to know how much
we’re making. Why wouldn’t it work that way?”
“It would,” said Beth. “Do tell me, Ben; I’m just dying to know! How
much will it be?”
“From ten to twelve thousand dollars.”
“What! You don’t really mean it?”
“Indeed I do. But you mustn’t tell yet a while.”
When they reached the house on their return, Mrs. Hodges awaited them
in the doorway.
“Found any nuggets, Ben?” she facetiously remarked.
“No,” he laughed. “That yarn about finding them in chimneys was a fairy
tale, I think. But we’ve found the stuff to make them out of, which
answers our purpose quite as well.”
Her husband looked over her shoulder.
“If the lease was never recorded, or was done wrong, Ben, couldn’t Fish
oust you if he wanted to?”
“I suppose he could, strictly speaking,” Ben replied. “But, you see, he
overreached. He played a mean, dishonest trick in having a false entry
made in the record, and now he doesn’t dare to come back for fear of
being arrested.”
“But he’ll come back some time when the thing’s blown over.”
“Well, I’ll be through with the Works by that time,” Ben remarked as he
bade them good-night.
When the last day came it was with considerable regret that the
partners made preparations to leave the Works forever.
“I don’t want to stay one day longer than the time I’m entitled to,”
said Ben. “It’s paid us well for our work, but I wouldn’t care to go
through it all again.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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