"Why, Jack," was the reply, "that would be a dead give-away. He would
never present such an order at the bank. It would be a notice to every
man in the bank and every friend of every man in the bank, and that would
mean everybody in town, that the miners who were kept down in the deeps
were trying to buy the stock of the mine. I would rather risk it this
way."
"All right, everything goes," said Browning, and both signed the order.
Then they talked for a long time. They had known each other slightly for
a couple of years, having met first in the Belcher lower levels, and
being thrown together in work on the face of the drift from the G. & C.
shaft, they had, during the previous few days, each found that the other
was a good and bright man, and had grown more and more intimate, and a
warm friendship had sprung up between them. As they lay down again,
Browning said to Sedgwick, "How did you come to be here, Jim?"
"Fate arranged it, I guess," was the reply. "You see, my home was
in Ohio, in the valley of the Miami. My father had a big farm--400
acres--but there were two boys older than myself, and they needed the
land. I took to books naturally, and the plan was to give me an
education, and then add a learned profession, or set me up in some little
business. So I went to school, and after awhile was sent to Oberlin
College. Queer old place, that! Great place for praying and for teaching
the universal brotherhood of man! The result, I used to think, was that
a colored man commanded a premium over a white man there. I worried the
thing through for three years and a half. There was a young mulatto
student in the school named Deering, who was a great deal too big for his
clothes. He was inclined to force himself into places where he was not
wanted, and at anything like the manifestation of a desire to dispense
with his society, he grew saucy in a moment. I did not mind him, but he
was vinegar and brimstone to a young student from Tennessee, a slight,
weakly lad, but as brave a little chap as you ever saw, named Thorne.
Well, one day, for some impertinence, Thorne struck him. Deering was an
athlete; he weighed twenty pounds more than I did, fifty more than
Thorne, I guess; he was quick as lightning, was most handy with his
props, and in an instant he smashed poor Thorne's face with a blow which
knocked him half senseless.
"I sprang to Thorne, at the same time telling Deering it was a cowardly
act for one like him to strike a little fellow like Thorne. He answered
something to the effect that for a trifle he would smash me a good deal
worse than he had Thorne, and--well, in a minute more there were lively
times in that neighborhood.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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