Evening Star Newspaper, December 26, 1896, Page 17

THE YOUNGEST PROSPECTOR IN CALAVERAS, —— BY BRET HARTE. (Copyright, 1806, by Brete Harte.) Written for The Evening Star. He was scarcely eight when it was be- Meved that he could have reasonably lald claim to the above title. But he never did. He was a small boy, intenseiy freckled to the roots of his tawny hair, with even a suspicion of {t in his almond-shaped but mewhat full eyes, which were the g:een- ish hue of a ripe gooseberry. Atl this was very unlike his parents, from whom he di- verged In resemblance in that f often seen tn the southwest of Ame a, if the youth of the boundless vest has struck a new note of independence and originality, overriding all conservative and ished rules of heredity. Something of this was also shown in a singular and remarkable reticence and firmness of pur- pose, quite unlike his family of school-fel- lews. His mother was the wife of a team- ster, who had apparently once “dumped” his family, consisiing of a bey anu two girls, on the roadside at Burnt Sprinz, with the canvas roof of his wagon‘ to cover them, while he proceeded to deliver other freight not so exclusively his own at other Stations along the road, returning to them distant and separate occasions with nt additions to their stock, kabitatfon and furniture. In this way the cai Was finally shingled and hut en and. under the quickening of a % tia sky and the forcing ofa ne sown seed e wn as Medlil ker’s,” with, its. bu: its three sheds cf ean helped their mother in a child- ative way; the boy, John Bun more desultory -and -criginal f. when he was not ng to” oF © icn tensibly “coming from™ school, for ne w seldom actuatly there. Somethinz of this fear was in the mind of Mrs. Meditker cne morning as she lo om the kettie she was s premonition of worriting,” to behold the Rev. Mr. Staples, the locai minister, haul Jchn Bun yar dliker into th ene hand. Letting Johnny his st the doo: face handkerchief. Johany Greppea chair, furtiv laneing at the erm which Mr. Staples had dragged hin, cling it with the other hand to see if it was reaily longer. “I've been requesi ter,” said the Rev. Mr. Staples, putting las handkerchief back into his broad felt hat h a gasping smile, “to bring our young @ before you for a maiter of counsei liscipline. I have done su, Sister M-d- th some diff —he Ieoked down n felt of bis arm Uistied that it was jon: st do our sioocy even with d y the schoolmas- yo giday and,” co ued Mr. y disre- 2 to consec. metapher. is feet are taking fast hold of destruction.” Here nee, 5 e yer doin’s now, John, 1 me a slavin’ to send ye to school?” Thus appealed to, Johuny looked for a ly at his feet, at his arm, and at the Then he said “I ain't done nothin’, he’—indicating nez been nigh onter pullin’ off my continued interruption lan tolerance, discovered that nad in his : ion two or three f fine river gold, each of the value a dollar, or perhaps 62% cents. On uestioned where he got them he re- ; although subsequently he at he had ‘found’ them. It being a nee, he was given the benefit of nd nothing more wes said about a few days after he was found try- t Mr. Smith’s store, two of a different size and a small u of the value of four or five dollars. At this point I was called in; he repe: 'd to me, I grieve to say, the same untruthful- and when I suggested to him the ob- ken it from one of sluice boxes and committed the of theft, he wickedly denied it. were, alas! unable to ascertain any- thing from the miners themselves, though I grieve to say they one and all agreed that their ‘take’ that week was not at all what they had expected. I even went so fur us to admit the possibility of his own state- ment, and besought him at least to show me where he had found it. He at first re- fused with great stubbornness of temper, but later consented to accompany me pri- vately this afternoon to the spot.” Mr. Staples paused, and, sinking his voice, gloomily, and with his eyes fixed upon Johnny, ‘continued slowly: “When I state that, after several times trying to evade me on the way, he finally led me to the top of Bald Hill, where there 1s not a scrap of soil and not the slightest indication, and still persisted that he found it there, you will understand, Sister Medliker, the incor- rigibility of his conduct, and how he has added the sin of ‘false witness’ to his breaking of the eighth commandment. But I leave him to your Christian discipline! Let us hope that if, through his stiff-neck- ed obduracy, he has haply escaped the vengeance of man’s law, he will not escape the rod of the domestic tabernacle.” “Ye kin leave him to me,” said Mrs. Med- liker in her anxiety to get rid of the parson, assuming a confidence she was far from feeling. ‘So be tt, s fact that he had the miners’ ster Medliker,” said Staples, Jake Whistled. “Then its only you, yourself?” drawing a long, satisfactory breath; “and let us trust that when you have rastled with his flesh and spirit you will bring us joyful tidings to Wednesday's mothers’ meeting.” He clapped his soft hat on his head, cast another glance at the wicked Johnny, open- ed the door with his hand behind him, and ‘ked himself into the road. Now, Johnny,” said Mrs. Medliker, set- tng her lips together as the door closed, “look me right in the face, and say where you stole that gold.” But Johnny evidently did not think that his mother’s face at that moment offered any moral support, for he didn't look at her, but, after gazing at the kettle, said slowly: “I didn’t steal no gold.” “Then,” said Mrs. Medliker triumphantly, “4f ye didn't steal it you'll say right off how ye got it.” Children are often better logicians than their elders. To John Bunyan the steal- ing of gold and the mere refusal to say where he got it were two distinct and sepa- rate things; that the negation of the second roposition meant the affirmation of the Brst he could not accept. But then chil- dren are also imitative and fearful of the older intellect. It struck Johnny that his mother might be right, and that to her it really meant the same thing. So, after a moment's a roche « more confident- ly: “I suppose I sto! Ee ont But he was utterly unprepared for the darkening change in his mother’s face, and her furious accents. re stole it, you limb! aa et ‘ brazenly tell me! Who did yow steal it from? | Tell me quick, afore ¥ wring it out of you!” z Completely astounded and bewildered at this new turh of affairs Johnny again fell back upon the dreadful truth and gasped, “I don’t know.” a “You don’t know, you devil! take it from Frazer’s?” ‘From the Simmons Brothers?” “From the Blazing Star Company?” Did you ‘From a store?” No.” created goodness—where did you get it? Johnny raised his brown gooseberry eyes for a single instant to his mother’s anc* said: “I found it.” Mrs. Medliker gasped again and starea hopelessly at the ceiling. Yet she was con- scious of a certain relief. After all, it was possible that he had found it—liar ashe undoubtedly was. “Then, why don't you say where, you aw- ful child?” “Don't want to!” Johnny would have liked to add that he saw no reason why he should tell. Other people who found gold were not obliged te tell. There was Jim Brody, who had struck a lead and kept the locality secret. Nobody forced him to tell. Nobody called him & thief; nobody had dragged him about by the arm until he showed it. Why was it wrong that a little boy should find gold? It wasn't agin the Commandments. Mr. Staples hod never got up and said: “Thou shait not find gold!” His mother had never made him pray not fo find it! The school- master had never read him awful stories of boys who found gold and never said any- thing about it, and so came to a horrid end. All this crowded his small, boy’s mind, and, crowding, choked his small, boy’s ut- terance. = You jest wait till your father comes home,” said Mrs. Medliker, “and he'll see whether you ‘want to’ or not. And now gec yourself off to bed and stay there.” Johnny knew that his fathet—whose. teams had increased to five wagons, anc whose route extended forty miles furthe: not due for a week, and that the tastrophe was yet remote. His present punishment he had expected. He went in- to the adjoining bed room, which he oc- cupied with his sister, and began to vun- dress. He lingered for some time over one stocking and finally cautiously removed from it a small piece of flake gold, which he had kept concealed all day under his big toe, to the great discomfort of that member. But this was only a small, ordi- nary, self-mgrtyrdom of boyhood. He scratched a boyish hieroglyphic on the metal, and when his mother's back was turned scraped a small hole in the adobe wall, inserted the gold in it, and covered it up with a plaster made of the moistened “You THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, . DECEMBER 26;' 1896-24 PAGES. why or asked his reason for it, which he was equally sure he not formulate though he also knew not why. But that evening, as he was returning from the spring with water, he heard the minister's voice in the kitchen. It had been a day of surprises and revelations to Johnny, but the climax seemed to have been reached as he entered the room, and he now stood transfixed and open-mouthed as he heard Mr. Staples say: - = “It's all very well, Sister Medliker, to comfort your heart with vain hopes and de- lusions. A mother’s leanin’s is the soul's deceivin’s, and yer leanin’ on a broken reed. if the boy truly found that gold he'd have comie to ye and said: ‘Behold, mother, I have found gold in the highways and by- Ways—rejoice and be exceedin’ glad!’ and hev poured it inter yer lap. Yes," contin- ued Mr. Staples, aggressively to the boy, a8 he saw him stagger back with his pall in his hand, “‘yes, sir, that would have becn the course of the Christian child!” For a moment Johnny felt the blood boul- ing in his ears, and a thousand words seemed crowding in his thro: “Then! he gasped and choked. “Then!” he began again—and stopped with the suffocation of indignation. But Mr. Staples saw in“his agitation only an awakened conscience, and, nudging Mrs. Medliker, leaned eagerly forward for a re- ply. “Then,” he repeated with suave en- couragement, “go on, Johnny! Speak it out!” , “Then,” said Jolinny, in a high, shrill fal- setto that startled them, ‘‘then what for did you pick up that piece o’ gold in the road this arternoon, and say nothin’ of it to the man who follered ye? Ye did; I seed yer! And ye didn’t say nothin’ of it to anybody; and ye ain’t sayin’ nothin’ of it now ter maw! And ye've got it in yer vest! And it's mine; and I dropped it! Gimme it.” Astonishment, confusion and rage swelled and empurpled Staples’ face. It was his turn to gasp for breath” Yet in the same moment he made an angry dash at the boy. But Mrs. Medliker interfered. This was an entirely new feature in the case. Great 1s the power of gold. A single glance at the minister's confusion had convinced her that Johnny's accusation was true, and it was Johnny’s money—constructively hers—that the minister was concealing. His mere pos- session of that gold had more effect in straightening out her loose logic than any sense of his hypocrisy. “You leave the boy be, Brother Staples,” said Mrs. Medliker, sharply. “I reckon Wot's his is hisn, spite of whar he got it.” Mr. Staples saw his mistake, and smiled painfully as he fumbled in his waistcoat pocket." “I believe I did pick up some- thing,” he said, “that may or may not have been gold, but I have dropped it again or thrown it away, and really it is of little concern in our moral lesson. For we have only his word that it was really his! How do we know it?” “Cos it has my marks on it,” said Johnny quickly; it had a criss-cross I scratched on it. I kin tell it good enuf.” Mr. Staples turned suddenly pale and rose. “Of course,’ he said to Mrs. Medliker, with painful dignity, “if you set so much value INGIN—"SA1D JOHNNY. debris. It was safe—so was his secret—for it need not, perhaps, be stated here that Johnny had told the truth and had honest- ly found the gold! But where—yes, that was his own secret! And now, Johnny, with the instinct of all young animals, dis- missed the whole subject from his mind, and, reclining comfortably upon his arm, fell into an interesting study of the habits of the red ant as exemplified in a crack of the adobe wall, and with the aid of a burnt match succeeded in diverting for the rest of the afternoon the attention of a whole laborious colony. The next morning, however, brought trou- ble to him in the curiosity of his sisters, heightened by their belief that he could at any moment be taken off to prison—which was their understanding of their mother’s story. I grieve to say that to them this in- vested him with a certain romantic hero- ism, from the gratification of which the hero himself was not exempt. Neverthe- less, he successfully evaded their ques- tioning,and on broader impersonal grounds. As girls, it was none of their business! He wasn't a-goin’ to tell them his secrets! And what did they know about gold, any- way? They couldn’t tell it from brass! The attitude of his mother was, however, still perplexing. She was no longer active- ly indignant, but treated him with a mys- terious reserve that was the more appall- ing. The fact was that she no longer be- lieved in his theft—indeed, she had never seriously accepted it—but his strange reti- cence and secretiveness piqued her curiosi- ty, and even made her a little afraid of him. The capacity for keeping a secret she believed was manlike, and reminded her—for no reason in t world—of Jim Medliker, her husband, whom she feared. Well, she would let them fight it out be- tween them. More than that, she was finally obliged to sink her reserve In em- ploying him in the necessary “chores” for the house, and he was sent on an errand to the country store at the crossroads. But he first extracted his gold flake from the wall and put it in his pocket. On arriving at the store, it was plain even to his boyish perceptions that the minister had circulated his miserable story. Two or three of the customers spoke to each other in a whisper, and looked at him. More than that, when he began his homeward journey he saw that two of the loungers were evidently following him. Half in jim- idity and half in boyish mischief he once or twice strayed from the direct road, and Snatched a fearful joy in observing their equal divergence. As he passed Mr. Sta- ples’ house he saw that reverend gentle- man sneak out of his back gate, and, with- out seeing the two others, join in the inquis- {torlal procession. But the events of the past day had had their quickening effect upon Johnny's intellect. A brilliantly wicked thought struck him. As he was passing a perfectly bare spot on the road he managed, without being noticed, to cast his glittering flake of gold on the sterile grourid at the other side of the road, where the minister's path would lie. ‘Then, point where the road turned, he con himself in the brush. The Rev. Mr. Staples hurried forward as he lost sighe of the toy in the sweep of the road, but halted sud- denly. Johnny's heart leaped. ‘The r:inis- ter looked around him, stopped, picked up the pieces of gold, thrust it hurriedly In his waiscoat pocket, and continued his wey. When he reached the turn of the road, be- fore passing it he availed himself of his solitude to pause and again exazaine the treasure, and again return it to his pocket. But, to Johnny's surprise, he here turned back, walked quickly to the spot where he had found it, carefully examined the lo- cality, kicking the loose soil and stones around with his feet until he had appar- ently satisfied himself that there was: no more, and no gold-bearing indications in the soil. At this moment, however, the two other inquisitors came in sight, and Mr. Staples turned quickly and hurried on. Be- fore he had passed the brush where Johnny was concealed the two men overtook him and exchanged greetings. They both spoke of “Jebnny” and his crime, of, having fol- lowed him with a view of finding out where he went to procure his gold, and of his having again evaded them. Mr. Staples agreed with their purpose, but, to Johnny’s Intense astonishment, said nothing about his own find! When they had passed on the boy. slipped from his place of concealment and followed them at a distance until his own house came in view. Here thg two men diverged, but the minister conflnaed on toward the other “store” and post office on the main road. He would have told his mother what he had seen, and his that the minis- ter had not spoken finding the id to the other men, but he was te by his mother’s attitude toward him, which learly the same as the minister's, and, zecond, by the Knowledge that she would have condemned his the gold in the minister’s path, though . knew not upon @ mere worldly trifle I will endeavor to find it. It may be in my other pocket.” He backed out of the door in his usual fashion, but instantly went over to the post office, where, as he afterward alleged, he had changed the ore for coin in a mo- ment of inadvertence. But Johnny’s hiero- glyphics were found on it, and in some mysterious way the story got about. It had two effects that Johnny did not dream of. It had forced his mother into an atti- tude of complicity with him; it had raised up for him a single friend. Jake Stielitzer, quartz miner, had declared that Burnt Spring was “playing it low down” on Johnny! That if they really believed that the boy took gold from their sluice boxes it was their duty to watch their claims and not the boy. That it was only their excuse for “snooping” after him, and they only wanted to find his “strike,” which was as much his as their claims were their own! All this with great proficiency of epithet, but also a still more recognized proficiency with the revolver, which made the former the fence, respected. “That's the real nigger y Johnny,” said Jake, twirling his huge mus- tache, “and they only want to know where your lead is—and don’t you tell "em! Let "em bile over with waitin’ first, and that'll put the fire out. Does yer pop know?” “No,” said Johnny. Jake whistled. ‘Then it’s only you your- self?” Jornny nodded violently and his brown eyes glistened. e “It's a heap of information to be packed away in a chap of your size, Johnny. Makes you feel kinder crowded inside—eh? Must keep it to yourself, eh?” “Have to,” said Johnny with a gasp that was a little like a sigh. It caused Jake to look at him attentively. “See here, Johnny,” he said, “‘now ef ye wanted to tell somebody about it—some- body as was a friend of yours—me, f’r in- stance?” Johnny slowly withdrew the freckled, warty little hand that had been resting corfidingly in Jake’s, and gently sidied away from him. Jake burst into a loud laugh. “All right, Johnny boy,” hearty slap upon the boy's back, “keep yer head shut ef yer wanter! Only ef any- body else comes bummin’ round ye, like this, jest turn him over to me, and I'll lift him outer his boots!” Jake kept his word and his distance thereafter. Indeed, it was after his first and last conversation with him that ehe influence of his powerful protection was so strong that all active criticisms of Johnny ceused, and oniy a respectful surveiiiance of his movements lingered in the settle- ment. I do not know that this was alto- gether distasteful to the child; it would have been strange, indeed, if he had not felt at times exalted over this mysterious inflvence that he seemed to have acquired over his feliow creatures, If he were merely hunting blackberries in the brush, he was always sure, sooner or later, to find a ready hand offered to help and ac- company him; if he trapped a squirrel or tracked down a wild bees’ hoard, he gener- ally fourd a smiling face watching him. Prospectors sometimes stopped him with: “Well, Johnny! as a chipper and far- minded boy, now whar would you advise us to dig?" I grieve to say that Johnny was rot above giving his advice—and that it was invariably of not the smallest use to the recipient. And so tne days passed. Mr. Medliker’s absence was protracted, and the hour of retribution and punishment stili seemed far away. The blackberries ripened and dried upon the hillside; and the squirrels had gathered their hoards; the bees no longer came and went through the thicket, but Johnny was still in daily, mysterious possession of his grains of gold! And then one day—after the fate of all ‘heroic hu- manity—his secret was imperiled by the blandishments and machinations of the all- powerful sex. try Fraser was a little plsymate of Why, with his doubts of his elder sister’s ir.telligence and integrity, he should have selected a child two years younger and of singular simplicity was, like ris other secret, his own. What she saw in him to attract’ her was equally strange; pessibly it may have been his brown goose- berry eyes or his warts, but she was quite content to trot after him like a young }squaw, carrying his “bowarrow” or his “trap,” Gs eer} Satisfied to share his codland knowledge or his scanter confi- he said with a par gee pe dirt was sti the val- leys of the foothills, and Try, whose sis- ter had just recovered froffyan attack, had been sequestered with her*{But one morn- irg, as Johnny was bringing his wood from Siar bay Te ao ee , he saw, to his Intense, a 4 slipped aside by _a small cheeks; were. @nd-there was* @ scrap of flannel ind her plump one that heightened the. Whiteness of her in. 2 af with Half real, ha! fected admiration, ‘how splendiferous' “Sore froat,” said Florry, in a whisper, trying to insert her two chubby fingers be- tween the bandage and*”her chin. “I mussent go out of the garden patch! I mussent play in the woods, for I’ll be seed! I mussent stay long, for they'll ketch me otter bed!” “Outer bed?” repeated Johnny, with in- tense admiration, as he perceived for- the first time that Florry was in a flannel nightgown, with bare legs and feet. “Ree yy! sald J@hany, Whereupon these two delightful imps. chuckled and wagged their heads with sin- cere enjoyment that this mere world could not give. Johnny slipped off his shoes and stockings and hurriediy put them on the infant Florry, securing them from falling off with a thick cord. ‘This added to their enjoyment. “We can play cubby house in the stone heap,” whispered Florry. * “Hol’ on till I tote in this wood,” satd Johnny, “You hide till I come back.” Johnny swiftly delivered his load with an alacrity he had never shown before. Then they played “cubby house” not tifty feet from the cabin, with a hushed but guilty saiisfact.on. But presently it palled. Their domain was too circumscribed for variety. “Robinson Crusoe up the tree” was impos- sible, as being visible from. the house win- ccws, Johnny was at his wits’ end. Florry was fretful and fastidious. Then a great thought struck him end left him cold. “If 1 show you a show, you won't tell?” he said, suddenly. «Wish yer-ma-die?” Ess. “Got any penny?’ “No.” “Got any slate pencil?” ze “Ain't got any go in for a pin,’ But Florry had none of childhood’s fluc- tuating currency with her, having, so to speak, no pockets, ‘ ““Well,”” said Johnny, brightening up, “ye in go in for luv.” The child clipped him with her small arms and smiled, and, Johnny leading the way, they crept oa all fours through the thick ferns until they paused before a deep assure in the soil half overgrown with vramble. In its deptys they could hear the monotonous trickle of water. It was really the source of the spring that afterward reappeared fifty yards nearer the road and trickled into an unfailing pool known as the Burnt Spring, from the brown color of the surrounding bracken. It was the water supply ot the ranch, and the reason for. Mr. Medliker’s original selection of that Jounny lingered for an. instant, Jook- ‘arefully around, and then lowered him- self into the fissure. A moment later he reached up his arms to Florry, lowered her also, and both disappeared from view. Yet trom time to Ume their voices came faint- ty from below—with the gurgle of water— as of festive gnomes at play. At the end of ten minutes tney reappeared a litue muddy, a tittle bedraggied, but Hushed and happy. There were two’ pink spots on Filorry’s cheeks, and she clasped something tightly in her little red fist. “There,” said Johnny, .when they were seated in the straw agaip; “now mind you don’t teil. But here suddenly Floyx; quiver, and she gave vet of anguish, ; “You asn’t bit by a trant’lernor nothin’ ?* said Johnny, anxiously. “Hush up!” “No-o-0! But——" “But what?” said Johnhy. war said I must tell! | Mar sald I was to fin’ out where you.get tHe truly gold! Mar said I was to get you to.take me,” howled #lorry, in an agony of remorse. Johnny gasped. “You Injin]” he began. “But I won't, Jonny!’ said Florry, clutching his leg frantically,” “I won't and isnan’tt 1 ain't no Inyn! ”, ‘Then, between her sobs, shé told him how her mother and Mr. Staples)had said that She was to ask Johnny the hext time they met to take her where he found the “truly gold,” and she was to remember where it was and to tell them. And they were going to give her a new dolly aiid a hunk of gin- gerbre “But I won't24ru‘T shan’t!” she sionately. She was quite pale ,Pins nor nothin’? You kin ed lips began to tg)a small howl ¥ Johnny was convinced, but thoughtful. “Tell 'em,” he said hoarsely, “tell ’em a big yhopper! They won't know no better. They'll never guess where.” And he briefly recounted the wild-godése chase he had giv- en the minister. : “And get the dolly and the cake,” sald Florry, her cyes shining through her tears. “In course,” said Johnny. “They'll get the dolly back, but you kin have eated the cake first.” They looked at each other, and their eyes danced together over this heaven- sent inspiration. Then Johnny took off her shoes and stockings, rubbed her cold feet with his dirty handkerchief, and said: “Now you trot over to your mar!” He helped her through the loose picket of the fence and ‘Was turning away when her fafnt voice again called to him: “Johnny! He turned back; she was standing on the Other side of the fence holding out her arms to him. He went to her with shining eyes, lifted her up, and from her hot but loving little lips took 4 fatal k:es. For, only an hour later, Mrs. }raser found Florry in her bed, tossing with a high fever and a light head. She was talk- ing of “Johnny” and “gold,” and had a flake of the metal in her tiny fist. When Mr. Staples was sent for, and with the mother and father, hung anxiously atove her bed, to their eager questioning they could only find out that Florry had been to a high mountain, ever so far away, and on the top of it there was gold lying around, and a shining figure was giving it away to the people. > “And who were the people, Florry dear?” said Mr. Staples, persuasively; “anybody ye know here?” “They woz angels,” said Florry, with a frightened glance over her shoulder. I grieve to say that Mr. Staples did not look as pleased at the celestial vision as he might have, and poor Mrs. Fraser prob- ably saw that in her child’s face which drove other things from her mind. Yet Mr. Staples persisted. “And. who led you to this beautiful moun- tain? Was it Johnny?” “No.” “Who then?” Florry opened her eyes on the speaker, “I find it was Dod,” she said, and closed them again. But here Dr. Duchesne hurried in, and after a single glance at the child hustled Mr, Staples from the room, for there were grave complications that puzzled him. Florry seemed easier and quieter under his kindly voice and touch, but did not speak again—and so, slowly sinking, passed away that night in a dreamless sleep. This was followed by a mad panic at Burnt Spring the next day, and Mrs. Medliker fled with her two girls to Sacramento, leaving John- ny, ostensibly strong and active, .to keep house until his father’s return. But Mr. Mediker’s return was again delayed, and in the epidemic, which, had now taken a fast hold of the settlement, Johnny's se- cret—and indeed the ,boy himself—was quite forgotten. It wag onjy on Mr. Med- iker’s arrival that it was;known he had been lying dangerously. il], alone in the abandoned house. In,ythis strange reti- cence and firmness of purpgse he had kept his sufferings to hims¢lf—as he had his other secret—and they were revealed only in the wasted, hollow, figure that feebly opened the door to his father. On which intelligence, Mr. Staples was, as usual, promptly on the-spot with his story of Jchnny’s secret, topthe father, and his usual eager questjoning to the fast sinking boy. “And now, Jqhnny,” he said, leaning over the bed, ‘tell ws all. There is One from whom no seeretg are hid. Re- member, too, that dear Florry, who is now with the angels, hag elready con- fessed.” li-> 3¢ Perhaps it was vecause Johnny, even at that moment, hated the.man; perhaps it was because at that moment he loved and believed in Florry, or. perhaps it was c1ly that because at that moment he was nearer the greater truth than his questioner, but he said ina husky voice, “You ie!” Staples drew back with a’ flushed. face, but lips that’ writhed in a pained and still persistent eagerness. “But, Johuny, at least, tell us where —wh—wow—wow.”. ee dA rasresatbed Dic aa hE te Dab en det ES ciel oa a AE 7 dae er set a ae I am obliged to admit that these undigni- fied accents came Mr. - own ‘sin- f “You're a minister of the Gospel, I know, but ef ye say another word to my Johnny, J’ knock the Gospel stuffin’ out of ye. Ye hear me! I've driven mules afore!’ He then strode back inte the room. “Ye needn’t answer, Johnny—he's gone.” But so, too, had Johnny, for he never answered the question in this world—nor, Plezse God, was he required to in the next. self-| He lay still and dead. The community was scandalized the next day when Mr. Med- liker sent for a minister from Sacramento to officiate at his child's funeral in place of Mr. Staples, and then the subject was dropped. But the influence of Johnny's hidden treasure still remained as a superstition in the locality. Prospecting parties were con- tinually made up to discover the unknown claim, but always from evidence and data altogether apocryphal. . It was even al- leged that a miner had one night seen the Uttle figures of Johnny and Florry walking over the hilltop, hand in hand, but that they kad vanished among the stars at the very.moment he thought he had discovered their secret. And then it was forgotten; the prcsperous Mr. Medliker, now the pro- prietor of a stage coach route, moved away to Saeramento; Medliker's ranch became a station for changing hofses, and, as the new railway in time superseded even that, that. sunk into a blacksmith’s shop on the outskirts of the new town of Burnt Spring. And then one day, six years after, news fell as a bolt from the blue! It was thus recorded in the county pa- per: “A”piece of rare good fortune, involv- ing, it is said, the development of a lead of extraordinary value, has lately fallen to the lot of Mr. John Silsbee, the popular blecksmith, on the site of the old Medliker ranch. In clearing out the failing water course known as Burnt Spring, Mr. Silsbee came upon a rich ledge or pocket at the actual source of the spring—a fissure in the grourd a few rods from the road, The present yield has been estimated to be from eight to ten thousand dollars. But the event is censidered as one of the most remarkable instances of the vagaries of ‘prospecting’ ver known, as this valuable ‘pot hole’ ex- isted undisturbed for eight years not fifty ‘yards from the old cabin that was in for- Mer. time the residence of J. Medliker, esq., and the station of the Pioneer Stage Com- pany; and was utterly unknown and un- suspected by the previous inhabitants! Verily truth is stranger than fiction!” — BRIQUETTES FOR FUEL. Fine Coal and Pitch Pressed Into Blocks Used Abroad. From the Philadelphia Press. Travelers of a mechanical turn of mind in Europe have often remarked the extea- sive use there of a fuel made of fine coal and pitch pressed into briquettes about the size of a granite paving block, says an ex- change. These briquettes are employed ex- tensively on locomotives in France and England, and are also used to a less extent in stationary furnaces and for domestic purposes. Occasionally travelers will refer to the briquettes as examples of European thriftiness in utilizing materials wasted -in this country, but as a matter of fact. a nember of attempts have been. made here to manufacture them, but without any financial success. Mr. John R. Wagner, who has been closely identified with coal interests for some years, states that the low cost of .oal in most sections of this country, the good cooking qualities of most bituminous coals, the scarcity of pitch and the high cost of manufacture :nake the present outlook for briquettes on this side of the Atlantic a poor one. The greatest guecess has apparently Leen obtained in thé manufacture of eggettes, small briquettes of an egg shape, which are very hard and well adapted for transporta- tion. A plant of this sort at Huntington, Ark., has a capacity of about 200 tons a day, and uses the semi bituminous slack from the mines of the Kansas ani Texas Coal Compa: Many of the Arkansas coals are semi-anthracite, more or less soft, and friable, and difficult to burn in a fing state. The materials are used in the pro- portion of 100 pounds of bituminous slack, % pounds of hard coal tar pitch and 10 pounds of the coal tar obtained in the man- ulacture of this pitch These substances are thoroughly mixed together, heated to a temperature of 175 degrees Fanrenhelt, and submitted to great pressure. At Mil- waukee, where one of these plants was built, it was employed during dull seasons in pressing fine iron ore and flue dust mixed with a high-grade combustible into nuggets suitable for use in cupola furnaces, and the same has been done at a Chicago plant, which sells the nuggets to the Illinois Steel Company. A hopeful sign for the manu- facture of artificial fuel is that improved methods of making coke indicate the possi- blity of obtaining soon suitable pitch at a iow cost, thus reducing one of the highest items of the cost of production at present. A LOST ISLAND. One Rich in Phosphates Being Eager- ly Searched for in the Pacific, The mysterious island of the Southern ocean whereon rich deposits of guano are sald to be has not been discovered yet, though the little schooner Moonlight that arrived recently from Mazatlan searched for it all seas over in the latitude and Icngitude where it is belicved to exist, says the San Francisco Bulletin. Out of the regular course of sailing and steam vessels cruised the Moonlight for days, but nothing occurred to break ‘the monotony of the placid Southern ocean save the well-known high rock of much-mentioned Clippertun. Treasure Island and its wealth of phos- phates still exists merely as an unknown quantity, for the rough charts of old Capt. Martin and his adventurous associates are either in error or else some strange seismic Phenomenon caused the lost isle to disap- pear years ago, perhaps, for all that mortal sailor knows. For a number of years the lost island of the South Pacific has been searched for by ambitious seamen. The stories concerning it are various and romantic, and to a great extent conflicting, though the narratives all seem to center on the fact that the Piace exists somewhere about 400 or 500 miles southwest of Clipperton island, and is a low coral atol which is covered with the richest phosphates. The ilttle unknown also has its legends of pirates’ treasures, and according to an ol4 volume containing mention of Lord Clipperton’s voyages, was once the rendezvous of pirates. One of the expeditions of recent date which have been fitted out to look for the island was the Vine expedition. The Vine’s owner, Capt. Burns, according to the first officer of that craft, secured his knowledge of the place from an old sea captain ramed Martin, who died some years ago, and who left an old chest among his belongings which told of a small island .2 the South Pacific not down on the regular charts, enormously rich in phosphates. Martin claimed that his vessel was driven out of her regular course by head winds and came across the island, which he described. He tcok a note of the latitude and longitude, hoping some day to raise enough money to fit out a vessel to procesd to that spot and/take possession, but death put an end to his aspirations. The Moonlight on leaving Mazatlan was in tharge of Capt. Spencer, and had a number of local men on board who still have faith in the theory that the island is still above water, and that the old sea dogs who sighted it in past years simply made errors in their reckonings and have caused all subsequent failures to find the land of fortune, ——_—__++ THE UNSPEAKABLE TURK. How an Oriental Title Won the Heart of a Haughty Beauty. She smiled coldly upon him and turned away. He was rich, of aristocratic parent- age and of courtly bearing and her chill re- fusal cut him to the heart. “The time will come, Gwendoline de Pey- ster,” bemoaned John Smith, half aloud, as with eyes blinded with tears he wan- dered down che marble steps. A year passed by. Th mained. unwedded and" sgcloty “wenger sa where Smith had gone. He had sold all his effects and had lands. Whither, no one-knew. Then one morning IMPALEMENT OF THE BONNET. A Painfel and Exciting Incident of a New rk Rain Storm, From the New York Tribune. They were talking of the variety of queer Uttle incidents which the streets of New York have to offer for the daily entertain- ment of the idle but observing pedestrian. “Why, it’s a regular continuous perform- ance, if you only keep your eyes open and lock about you,” concluded the man whose fund of “reminiscences” had made him easily the star narrator of the party. “Indeed, I believe you,” remarked the lit- tle woman in the corfier, Who up to that point had contented herself.with listening to the stories of the others. “I believe you, because I was in one act-of it myself yes- terday on 23d street. 1 assure you that I am not particularly proud ‘of the part I played, but then I did it purely from nec- essity, not choice. “When I started out to shop that after- noon the sky was perfectly clear, but in about an hour it came on to rain very sud- denly, and I was caught without an um- trella, I had a new bonnet on, too; one of those tiny things, you know, made most- ly of jet and lace, and- barely resting on the top of my head. It didn’t even have strings to hold it on.. Well, I was hurrying along as fast as possible, my sole idea be- ing to get that bonnet under. the sheltering roof of the nearest store, when, happening to glat:ce a little distance ahead of me, I saw something which fairly paralyzed me with astonishment. I stood still for a mo- ment, unwilling to believe my eyes. But there was no mistake. There was my cher- ished bonnet, which I had believed to be berched securely upon the top of my head, dangling from the rib of a man’s umbrella, several yards away. Worst of all, the own- ed of.the umbrella, blissfully unconscious of his ridiculous ‘catch,’ was striding rap- idly along through the rain, increasing at every step the distance between me and thy ill-fated property. There was only one thing to be done, and it was clear to me that it must be done quickly, too. Picking up my skirts, I ran after that man at top speed. I must have been an impressive ob- ject, in my bedraggled and hatless. condi- tion, but I had no time to think of that then. When I finally reached him, 1 caught at his sleeve ard managed to gasp out: “Oh, sir—excuse me—but you've got my bonnet “He turned, and judging from the expres- sion on his face, I imagined he was quite as much surprised 4s I had been a minute or two before. He was a dignified oid gentleman, with kind-looking blue e ““Your" bonnet, madam? I have—your— bonnet?" he repeated slowly, emphasizing each word, as if to make sure that he had heard me right. “It’s caught on your umbrella,’ I ex- plained, feeling my face get redder every moment; ‘you must have picked it right up from my head as you passed me, but I never felt it at all.’ ’ “By this tige wé were both laughing heartily over Ghe absurdity of tha affair, but I can tell you it will be a lesson to me. Never again will I go out until I have fastened my hat securely to my head by every means known te women.” —_+e-+____ MINIMUM SPEED m LOCOMOTIVES. The Story of a Record Made ™ North Carolina. From the New York Post. It is notiat all probable that we have as yet attained the maximum in speed pos- sible in locomotives. Efforts to “break the record” are.mary. But there is a propo- sition at the other end of that idea. A max- imum implies also a minimum. No effort is made to’ “break the record” for that. There probably is no record, but there Is a minimum. Few who do much traveling have failed of the experience of “a mile a minute.” A somewhat interesting trip was c1e made by a locomotive at a pace of a mile a week. It was a short run, only a little over three miles, but it took three Weeks to make it. There are few more remarkable evidences of engineering skill, in this or any other country, than the climb of the Western Carolina railroad over the Blue Ridge mountains. The first trail through those mountains, to cross the Swannanoa Gap, was made by the deer and other forest animals. The Indians followed the path which the animals marked out. The In- dian trail became the wagonway of the white pioneer, and, with advancing civiliza- tion and settlement, the state turnpike. Twenty years ago the railroad was pushed along the same general route. But men ard horses, wagons and oxen, can go where a@ locomotive cannot. To climb the ridge an easier grade was imperative. From a little station called Henry's, for a con- siderable time the terminus of the road, but now abandoned, to the top of the gap is a distance of three miles in an air line. By rail it is nine miles. From the Round Krob Hotel, two miles beyond the site of Henry’s, to a point just above Mud Cut, is Accream of tartar baking powder. Highest of all in leavening strength.—Latest United States Government Food Report, Rovat Baixo Powpgr Co., New York. a short three-quarters of a_ mile by moun- tain trail. By rail it is five miles. The difference in elevation between Henrys end the top of the gap is 1,700 feet, or rather more than 500 feet to the mile. The old turnpike road between the two points follows a fairly direct line, with an average rise of about one foot in five. The ascent at that grade, though possible for man and beast, is impossible for a loco- motive without gearing. When the line was pushed through the mountains twenty years ago the construc- tion work was carried on at both ends; from Old Fert westward upon the eastern side, and between the gajy and Asheville 5 the western side. As the work pro- gressed an engine upon the western side became a necessity, and the line upon the ecstern side had only reached Henry's, To suspend the work meant long delay. An engine must go out, and the problem arose how to get it there over the moun- tain. One of the lightest engines on the line was sent in as far as Henry's. From there to the rails on the other side of the gap it was three and a half miles, and all the way up hill, 500 feet to the mile. The track to the top. was but roughly graded. There were bridge: and culveris to build. It was decided to utilize the turnpike road. By means of short sections of track, the sections being taken up after the engine had passed them, and carried forward to be replaced for further progress, it was regarded as possible to effect the ascent. As it was manitestly impossible for any friction-wheelod engine to carry itself up so sharp a grade it would have to be drag- ged up by other means. A long line of oxen was tried, but the plan failed through inability to obtain a uniform pull from the team. There was plenty of power, but it cculd not be made to harmonize. ‘Finally the large crew of convicts by whom the road wes being built was set at work. Ropes were run forward upon which some 200 men in striped clothes were set to pull- irg. Others worked at the wheels with pinch bars, while others stood ready with blocks of wood to serve as wedges behind the wheels to hold every inch of ground that was gained. Almost inch by inch, “with a long pull and a strong pull, and a pull all together,” this forty tons of dead ergine was dragged up the mouniain at the rate of a mile a week. Trains have been snowed in, broken down and delayed so that progress was slow, but it is doubtful if a complete engine was ever kept in motion day after jay for three weeks at a siower rate of movement than one-sixth of a mile per day. welf for £400, From the Louisville Courier Journal. Lexington’s oldest drayman is William Wiles, colored. He is in his eighty-third year, and has driven a dray in Lexington for thirty-five years. In view of the dis- tinction of being the oldest drayman in the city bis license was presented to him for 1896. The Lexington Herald says of hi “Uncle Billy is a’ relic of slavery day: Probably no other man living-in Kentucky today can lay as literal a claim to ‘being his own boss’ as he. Uncle Billy bought himself, and has @ receipt for the money. He was the slave of George I. Brown of Jessamine county. As was the custom, he first had to buy his ‘time’ from the owner and then speculate on his work for other pecple. The price put on his time was $125 a year This was‘liberal. He went to work with a vim, and at the end of four years had paid the $500 for his time and saved $400. ‘The latter was the price at which ho was offered for sale. He paid the $400 and new has the receipt for it.” HOW THE PROFESSIONAL SURPRISED THE PASSENGERS. From Life. %