At length the meal was ready, and I set it on the table, and called in Ford. We sat down, and Mr. Norton helped himself to a liberal portion. “Why don’t you take hold?” he asked, seeing that I scarcely touched a thing. “I don’t feel like eating,” I replied. “I am waiting to hear about my father.” “Oh, well, then, I’ll give you the whole story. We started out from Hamner’s Gulch one bright morning to go up what is known as the Black Hawk Ravine. Your father had an idea that he could set up a saw-mill there if a grinding-mill didn’t pay.” “He never said anything about a saw-mill to me,” I put in. “Your father was a very queer man,” said Mr. Norton. “Did he say anything about me in his letters, or about the money he borrowed?” “Not a word.” “I thought so. Guess he was ashamed of the money he let fly, traveling to this place and that, and paying a holding price down on half a dozen spots, and then letting them go.” “But about the journey?” I said, anxious to get back to the particulars of my father’s death, which just now interested me more than anything else. “Oh, yes! Well, we started out for the ravine, and we reached it about two o’clock in the afternoon. It was a wild spot, and I was for going back; but your father wanted to go ahead, and he did so, I following.” “And was that where he lost his life?” “Exactly. He was ahead, and by six o’clock it was getting dark. I called out to him to be careful, as we were then walking along a narrow ledge, and far below was a mountain torrent, ten times worse than this one you have here.” “And this was the ledge he fell over?” Mr. Norton nodded. I shuddered. In imagination I could see my father going over, and clutching out vainly to save himself. It was a horrible thought. “Yes, he went over. It was no use to try to save him, though I did spring forward. He went down, and struck on his head.” “You went after him at once?” “Of course; as quick as I could. He was alive yet, but he didn’t live very long; just long enough to settle up his private matters, and put me in charge of his affairs.” “How is that?” “He made me write it out on a bit of paper, and then he signed it. I didn’t want to do it, but he said I was his only relative, and I must.” “Then he wanted you to take entire charge of his affairs?” I asked. “That’s it. In other words, I was to become your guardian, Reuben.” My heart sank at these words. As I have said, I did not take to my newly arrived relative from the start, and it was not a pleasant thought that in future he was to have full power over me. I heartily wished that my twenty-first birthday was at hand. “I take it your father wasn’t no great business man,” went on Mr. Norton, helping himself to more fish and another cup of coffee. “The state of affairs here shows that he wasn’t. He would have done better by remaining here than by going West as he did.”