"Because that's a lucky pickaxe. Many a hundred dollars' worth of gold has that pick dug for me. I broke the handle, and from then on I had bad luck. But I kept the pick, and some day I may put a new handle on it, and start to mining again." "Where did you dig gold?" asked Jed, while a curious longing came into his heart to get away from the tiresome farm work and embark upon the free and fascinating life of a prospector. He knew little of such life, or, perhaps, he would not have desired to undertake it, for it is full of hardships and dangers, compared to which farming is easy and simple. But the meeting that day of the old miner and the two boys was destined to have a far-reaching effect, and the head of the pick, which Gabe Harrison carried mainly for sentimental reasons, played quite a part in the adventures that were soon to follow. "Where did I dig gold?" repeated Gabe, as he finished tying up his pack. "Well, young man--Jed, I mean, if you'll allow me to call you that--I've dug gold 'most every place there was gold to dig. I'm not particular that way. I've prospected all over the Western part of the United States, and I've even been in Alaska, where I nearly froze to death, but I got a lot of gold there." "What made you give it up?" asked Jed, becoming more and more interested. "I didn't. I had bad luck, though it was as much my fault as it was anything else." "Did some one rob you?" "Yes, but for the matter of that I gave them the chance. It was mostly my own fault. I'm my own worst enemy, my lad, but I think I've turned over a new leaf, and when Gabe Harrison does the foolish things he used to do, I hope you'll send him a special-delivery letter and tell him so." "I will, if he leaves me his address," replied Jed, entering into the spirit of the occasion. "I'll do that. There, your brother has caught the horse. I thought that salt would fetch the critter. I had a mule once--but that's a long while ago. Maybe I'll tell you about it some day." Will had caught old Pete, and the horse was eagerly licking up the salt from the lad's hat. "I'll open the bars for you," called Jed, hurrying forward to help his brother. "Is he hurt any?" "Not a scratch on him." "That's good. You'd better ride him home, so dad won't be worrying. I'll walk." "You can ride if you want to," said Will, generously. "No, you're lighter weight, and it's a hot day. Besides, Pete must be pretty well tired out. Look out he doesn't run away with you again." "I will. Wish I had a bridle instead of this halter." "Hold on. I've got one!" exclaimed Mr. Harrison. "It's one that belonged to my mule, but I lost the mule and you might as well take the bridle." The old miner opened another part of his pack, and took out a strong bridle, that showed some signs of wear. It was quickly slipped on Pete, and then Will, mounting the animal's back, rode off. "If you'll stop at our house on your way past," he called back to Mr. Harrison, "you can get your bridle."