_ CHAPTER XXIV. CONCLUSION
There was little sleep that night in the cavern home of the gold-seekers. The fact that the whole crop of the precious stuff was the better part of a mile away in the mountains, even though apparently safe, caused every one to feel uneasy. In addition was the announcement of Jeff Graham, the leader, that their work in the Klondike region was ended. In keeping with his habit of making known only that which was necessary, he gave no explanation, and his friends were left to speculate and surmise among themselves. All, however, suspected the truth.
At early dawn Tim McCabe and the boys started up the trail, leading the burro. The old miner remained behind, saying that he expected company and his help was not needed in recovering the pilfered gold. The anxiety of the men and boys did not lessen until they reached the well-remembered spot and found the canvas bags intact. They were carefully loaded upon the strong back of the animal, secured in place, and the homeward journey begun. Frank and Roswell walked at the rear, to make sure none of the gold was lost. In due time they reached their primitive home, with all their wealth in hand.
To their surprise, Jeff was absent. The recent experience of the three confirmed them in their resolution not to leave the nuggets and dust unguarded for a single hour. While some were at work in the diggings, one at least would be at the cavern on the watch against dishonest visitors. It was agreed that Tim and Roswell should go to the little valley to resume work, while Frank with the Winchester and smaller weapon acted as sentinel.
As the two were on the point of setting out, Jeff Graham appeared with two well-dressed gentlemen, both in middle life. They were talking earnestly, and halted just beyond earshot to complete what they had to say. Then, without waiting to be introduced to Jeff's friends, they bade him good-day, and hurried down the path to where their horses were waiting, and lost no time in returning to Dawson City.
"Get ready to foller," was the curt command of Jeff; and within the following hour the whole party, including the donkey, were on the road. They were compelled to spend one of the short nights in camp, but reached Dawson City without the slightest molestation from any one or the loss of a dollar's worth of gold. As Jeff had announced his intention, they brought away only their auriferous harvest and such clothing as was on their bodies. At the hotel he held another long interview with the two gentlemen who had called on him at the diggings; and the first steamer down the Yukon, which was now fairly open, bore among its hundreds of passengers Jeff Graham, Tim McCabe, Roswell Palmer, and Frank Mansley. The combined gold of the fortunate passengers on that trip must have amounted to nearly a million dollars.
Some weeks later Jeff and Tim were seated alone in one of the rooms at the Palace Hotel, San Francisco. They had met by appointment to close up the business which had taken them into the Klondike region.
"You know, Tim," said the old miner, "that this whole thing was my own."
Tim nodded his head.
"I was aware of the same before ye mentioned it. Ye paid all our ixpenses like a gintleman, and we're entitled to fair wages for hilping and no more."
The generous disavowal of all claim to a share in the rich find touched Jeff, who hastened to say:
"Some folks might think that way, but I don't. It was a speculation on my part. It didn't cost much to get us to the Klondike, and so that don't count. I have delivered to the mint all the gold we brought back, and have been paid one hundred and twenty thousand dollars for it. You know what was done by the two men that visited us at the diggings?"
"The byes and mesilf had the idea that they bought out your claim."
"That's it. I was anxious to get out of the country before the summer fairly set in and the mosquitoes ate us up alive. From the way the dirt panned out, we should have been millionaires in a few weeks, but we had enough. There ain't many men as know when they have enough," was the philosophical observation of Jeff. "I do, so I sold my claim for a hundred and eighty thousand dollars. As I figure out, that makes the total three hundred thousand dollars, which, divided among us four, gives each seventy-five thousand dollars. How does that strike you, Tim?"
"It almost knocks me off my chair, if you mean it."
"The boys being under age, I have turned over their shares to their parents; and do you know," added Jeff, with an expression of disgust, "they both fixed things so as to go to college? You wouldn't believe it, but it's the fact. Howsumever, it's their business, and I ain't saying anything. Say, Tim, you hain't any idea of going to college?" asked Jeff, looking across at his friend with a startled expression.
"I won't unless ye will go wid me. How does that strike ye?"
Jeff's shoulders bobbed up and down with silent laughter, and immediately he became serious again.
"As soon as you sign this paper, Tim, I shall give you a certified check for seventy-five thousand dollars on the Bank of Californy. Are you ready to sign?"
"I'll sign me own death warrant for that trifle," replied Tim, his rosy face aglow, as he caught up the pen.
"Read it first."
His friend read:
"I, Timothy McCabe, hereby pledge my sacred honor not to taste a drop of malt or spirituous liquor, even on the advice of a physician who may declare it necessary to save my life, from the date of the signing of this pledge until the Fourth of July, one thousand nine hundred and seven."
As Tim gathered the meaning of the words on the paper, his eyes expanded; he puckered his lips and emitted a low whistle.
"Do ye mind," he said, looking across the table with his old quizzical expression, "the remark that the governor of North Carliny made to the governor of South Carliny?"
Jeff gravely inclined his head.
"I've heerd of it."
"What do ye s'pose he would have said if the time between drinks was ten years?"
"I've never thought, and don't care."
"He would have died long before the time was up."
"When you left the boys in the diggings you came to Dawson City to spend the worth of that nugget for whiskey. I happened to meet you in time and made you go back with me. You'd been off on sprees a half dozen other times, if I hadn't kept an eye on you. Drink is the enemy that will down you if you don't stop at once. If you'll stay sober for ten years, I'll take the chances after that. Are you going to sign?"
Tim's eyes were fixed on the paper which he held in his hand. He mused loud enough for the listening Jeff to catch every word:
"To sign that means no more headaches and bad health, but a clear brain and a strong body; no more hours of gloom, no weakness of the limbs and pricks of the conscience; no more breaking the heart of me good old mother in Ireland, but the bringing of sunshine and joy to her in her last days; it means the signing away of me slavery, and the clasping to me heart of the swate boon of liberty; it means the making of mesilf into a man!"
With a firm hand he wrote his name at the bottom of the paper, and flinging down the pen, said:
"With God's help, that pledge shall be kept."
"Amen," reverently responded Jeff; "there's your check for seventy-five thousand dollars."
[THE END]
Edward Sylvester Ellis's Book: Klondike Nuggets and How Two Boys Secured Them
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