CHAPTER II THE PURCHASE
“I’d like to speak to you on a matter of business.”
Ben’s face flushed in spite of the effort he made to look unconcerned, and it vexed him that his voice trembled.
The old man addressed surveyed the boyish figure before him.
“Business?” he questioned.
“Yes. It’s about the Works.”
“Well, what about ’em?”
“I should think there’d be a good deal of lumber in the frame and bricks in the chimney.”
“Yes, I s’pose there is; but what’s that to you?”
“I want to know what you’ll take for the whole concern as it stands? I suppose the lease you’ve got won’t run forever.”
“No, I guess it won’t.” Mr. Madge meditated for a moment. He needed money badly, to finish a pet tunnel in his “Bonanza Princess” mine. The sum that Ben could give would be a small one, he knew, but it would be better than nothing. As for the lease—“The leas’ said about that the better,” he said to himself, with a chuckle at his own wit. He sat down on a pile of boards and motioned to Ben to take a seat beside him. Then he hung his hooked cane on his left arm.
“How much’d you have left after your father’s affairs was settled up? Must’ve been quite a tidy little sum, I reckon.”
Ben had resolved not to furnish any information in regard to his finances, unless obliged to do so.
“There wasn’t much left, after the debts were paid,” he replied.
“Didn’t he give you all he had ’fore he died?”
“Yes. There wasn’t any one else to leave it to, except my cousin, Beth Morton; and my father knew that if he left her anything, Mr. Hodges would take it.”
“And you don’t mean to tell me ’t you paid his debts outen it, when you wasn’t obliged to!”
“Every last one of them!” the boy said with emphasis.
“Well, Ben Ralston, you are an odd stick!” He regarded his cane with a speculative air, as though he were comparing it with Ben. “Guess I must be gittin’ along hom’ards, now,” he added, as he slowly rose.
Ben was busily speculating upon his intentions. “The old sharper means to find out exactly how much money I’ve got, and then make a stand to get it all,” he thought. He instantly decided to furnish the information himself.
“I’ve got just two hundred dollars,—not a cent more,—and my board’s paid to the first of the month. So you see I’ve got to get to work at once,” he said.
Mr. Madge resumed his seat. “Make me an offer,” he replied, with a shrewd glance at Ben from his watery eyes.
“That’s my offer: all I’ve got.”
“U-m-m! It’s little enough for the stuff.”
As he paused, Ben nerved himself for the hardest part of all—the disclosure of his object in buying the Works. The temptation not to unfold his plan was very strong, but he resisted it.
“Lumber’s tol’rable high now,” the old man continued, “and it’s bound to go higher ’fore the year’s out.” A remembrance of the lease urged him to close the bargain at once. “But, if you’re smart enough to sell at a profit—”
“Before we come to a settlement, Mr. Madge,” Ben interrupted, “I want to tell you of one reason I have in buying your property. I mean to work over the bricks and soot of the chimney and the ground for gold.”
The old man was visibly astonished.
“So? For gold! Well, that’s another thing altogether!” he remarked, as the instinct to get the better of a bargain demanded precedence over all others. Then a gleam of avarice shone in his eyes. “Tell you what, boy, if you’re anxious to mine, I kin show you some splendid properties!” He waved his cane in his excitement. “The place to look for gold is in a virgin mine, not in forty-year-old soot!”
“I don’t want any mine that can be bought for two hundred dollars,” Ben said with decision. “And I must invest in something right off. I can’t leave my offer open either,” he added as he saw the other make a move to go. “If I don’t buy your ruin, I’ll have to get into something else.”
“You are in a hurry, ain’t you? I wish ’t I could persude you to go into a mine. ’Tain’t no use, eh?” he added as Ben shook his head. “Well,” he rose stiffly, “I’ll see you to-morrow ’bout it.”
“To-morrow will do. I’ll meet you at the Works at ten o’clock. I’ve got something on hand for the afternoon,” Ben answered.
When he was alone the boy tried to formulate a plan of operation, should he succeed in buying the property. His most difficult task was to control his impatience.
“I suppose I’ll have to do some more waiting,” he said to himself. “How I wish to-morrow were here!”
He knew as well as if Mr. Madge had told him so, that his statement in regard to his funds would not be believed without verification.
“He couldn’t take my word for it,” Ben reflected; “but all his digging can’t bring up anything more than the truth. It’s just two hundred dollars,—not a cent more.”
Shortly before ten o’clock on the following morning, Ben approached the Works. He crossed the lumpy, uneven ground of the yard and entered the building. As he gazed at the black walls of the structure and through the many holes in the roof where the blue sky looked down, he wished that they might speak and foretell the success or failure of his venture.
The side of the building next to the water was built upon piles driven into the beach, and through an opening in the wall he could see the waves running back and forth, until they almost touched the building.
He was very much excited, and involuntarily he kept his hand over the pocket which held his money. The responsibility of the step he was about to take weighed heavily upon him. Never before had he felt so utterly alone in the world. His visionary father had been the one heretofore to whom he had naturally turned for advice, even when he felt grave doubts as to his judgment. Now he was about to risk his all in a speculation which might yield no return. He was buoyant with hope; yet the doubt which always accompanies a first trial steadied him.
A rope hung from one of the joists of the flooring, and he idly watched the waves wash it backward and forward. At another time he would have questioned the presence of a deep furrow and some footprints in the sand which the incoming tide was rapidly obliterating; but now he was too preoccupied to notice them. He turned and saw Mr. Madge entering the building.
“So, you got here ’fore me,” the old man began. “It’s a good thing to be prompt. I don’t know of any one thing I like more in a young man than punctooality. Allers practice it and you’ll never be sorry for it.” He deliberately seated himself. “I recollec’ once, way back in the early ’50’s, how punctooality paid me in one of the pootiest mines that mortal man ever see. Clear white quartz, with lumps of yellow gold peppered all through it! ’Twas this here way,” he continued as he hung his cane on his arm—“the mine b’longed to a man who’d gone back East, and hadn’t touched a pick to it for ’most a year; so another man and me was both a-watchin’ for the day when the year’d be up, so’s we could take up the claim.”
Ben fidgeted during this recital, but the other did not appear to notice his impatience.
“The other feller,” continued Mr. Madge, “he got up at dawn,—’twas summer time, ’bout three o’clock,—but when he clim’ up the hill to the mine, there I was a-settin’, havin’ planted my claim two hours before. I’d been there sence midnight!” He laughed at his story, regardless of Ben’s inattention. “’Nother time, up in the Comstocks,—this time I was just a-tellin’ you ’bout was in Nevada County of this State,—I recollec’ how bein’ prompt saved a good mine and kept a hull concern from goin’ to rack and ruin. ’Twas a silver mine—as beautiful green ore as ever you see—”
“But I’d like to know, first,—before I hear about it, Mr. Madge,—whether you’re going to accept my offer or not,” Ben interrupted, for he could no longer control his impatience.
“Well, I’ve ben thinkin’ over your offer, Ben, and I’ve ’bout made up my mind that it ain’t no price for the property, considerin’ the gold that’s lyin’ hid on it. No price at all; in fact—”
“But it’s a chance whether I find any gold or not,” Ben impatiently exclaimed. “When you buy a mine do you pay as much for it as you expect to get out of it?” His heart sank with fear that his offer might not be accepted. He felt that he must meet the old man on his own ground, and he was on his mettle.
“It ain’t much of a price for the buildin’ material that’s in it, let alone the gold,” Mr. Madge continued, as if he had not heard the question. “I ain’t willin’ to let it go at your figure; but I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I’ll go shares with you, if you’ll pay me the two hundred, and put up the coin for the machinery. I s’pose a ’rastra will do for the crushin’.”
“I don’t care to take a partner,” Ben firmly replied. His heart was growing heavier with every second that failure seemed more certain.
He nerved himself for a final effort. “If you don’t care to accept my offer, Mr. Madge, there’s no use wasting any more words over the matter,” he said, and turned to go.
A vindictive gleam shot from the old man’s eyes. He did not reply for a moment, but stopped Ben as he was going out of the door.
“I need the money,” he briefly said; “so I’ll take your offer; but I’m just a-givin’ it to you.”
Ben dived in his pocket with alacrity and produced a bill of sale for the lumber and bricks and also an agreement permitting him to work over the ground until the expiration of the lease. The dates of the latter he had omitted, as he did not know them.
He had opened his purse to pay over the money before he recalled the omission. It flashed upon him, too, that the paper should be signed in the presence of witnesses. He put his purse back in his pocket.
“Come to Hodges’ shop,—we must have witnesses,” Ben said.
Mr. Hodges was a locksmith, and owned a small shop in the old part of the city known as North Beach. He was Beth’s stepfather; and as she was Ben’s cousin, the boy naturally turned to him as a friend.
He looked up in surprise when his visitors entered, and gave them a gruff welcome.
Mr. Madge was in great haste to sign the papers and get possession of the money.
“The dates of the lease must be put in first,” said Ben. “What are they?”
“Well, let me see,” said Mr. Madge. “’Twas thirty-five years ago, and we got it ’cause ’twasn’t needed by the owners. Afterwards, ’twas made over to me by the company.”
“That would make it 1866,” said Ben. He lifted the pen. “What was the month?”
“Let me see,” the other replied, as if striving to remember. “We begun in November, I think,—yes, we drove the first pile for the foundation on the fifteenth day of November, 1866.” He brought his cane down with a thump, to emphasize the statement. “I remember the time partic’larly, ’cause ’twas in that same month that I made a fortune up in Tuolumne County. I owned the pootiest mine on the Mother Lode ’t ever you see!”
“I think you’ve told me about that before, Mr. Madge,” Ben replied as he filled in the dates. “Now, this paper gives me the sole right to work over the ground, bricks, and rubbish of the Smelting Works, until the expiration of the lease. And that will be until—” Ben waited for Mr. Madge to supply the rest of the sentence.
“Certainly it does,” the latter said. “You talk like a regular lawyer, Ben.”
“Business is business. Now, as I understand it, the lease will expire on the fifteenth of November,—that’s three months off. The Works are mine till then.”
“They’re yours until the lease expires,” replied Mr. Madge, with considerable impatience. “I’m ready to sign if you are. Let’s get through with it.”
Ben passed the papers toward him and he affixed his signature. Ben followed with his, and then he turned to Hodges.
“Will you sign here, Mr. Hodges?” he said.
“Yes, I’ll sign the tomfoolery to oblige you,” replied the locksmith. But before he put his name to the paper he relieved his mind by making several sneering remarks.
“Talk about di’monds and coal being the same! Why, that won’t be in it, when it comes to findin’ gold in soot and bricks!” he said. “Ben, you’ll be a regular what-do-you-call-it—chemist?”
“An alchemist? I hope so,” Ben replied with flushed cheeks. “We ought to have another witness,” he added.
A man who was examining some keys in the back part of the shop came forward.
“I’ll sign, if you want me to,” he said. “I heard the whole business,—couldn’t help it.”
They agreed and he wrote his name, “Andrew Mundon,” in a good bold hand.
Ben then paid Mr. Madge the coveted twenties and the party separated.
Ben was eager to make his escape. He shrank from the coarse sarcasm which he knew would be his share if he remained in the vicinity of the shop, and he wanted to be alone to think over the matter.
“Whew! I’m in for it now!” he exclaimed as he strode along the street, with a hand in each empty pocket. He threw back his head and stepped briskly along. “And I want to tell you one thing right here,” he addressed himself,—“there’s to be no looking backward!”
He whistled a lively air and quickened his steps as exciting thoughts crowded fast upon him. Turning a corner suddenly, he collided with a boy of his own age.
“Hello, Syd!”
The boy addressed, gave a grunt in reply.
“How do you like the place?” Ben continued.
“O, it’s well enough for a while. I’ve got another one at forty dollars a month, in view.”
“Indeed! How soon do expect to make the change?” Ben inquired.
“O, I ain’t going to work for this money long,” Syd aggressively replied, as though his employer were doing him an injury. “I’ve had two offers—one’ll pay ten dollars more; but there’s more work and longer hours. I haven’t made up my mind yet which one I’ll take.”
Doubt was plainly written in Ben’s face. Syd always had some such rose-colored yarn as this to tell about himself.
“You’re lucky to have two such good chances,” Ben remarked. “You’ll have to look out and take the right one.” He turned to go, but the other stopped him.
“What are you doing nowadays? Beth said something about your having a tiptop place.”
“I don’t think she could have said that, Syd.”
“Yes, she did, too, or words to that effect. You don’t mean to doubt my word, do you?” he defiantly added.
“I’d rather not,” Ben quietly replied. “We’ve fought all our lives on the slightest cause, and we’re too old for that sort of thing, now.”
“I don’t want to quarrel,—but that’s what she said.”
“I don’t see how that is possible, when I haven’t any place at all.”
“Haven’t any? Ain’t you working?”
“Yes, I’m going to work,—but for myself. It isn’t a secret any longer; so you may as well know it, since you are so interested in my affairs. I’ve bought the old Smelting Works, to work them for gold.”
Ben thoroughly enjoyed making this announcement. Between Syd and himself there had always been a rivalry; and after Syd’s foolish bragging about something that both knew to be false, it was a satisfaction to Ben to impart his news.
“For gold!” Syd repeated in surprise.
“Yes, for gold; and I expect to find a pile.”
“Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed. Just give me a lump to have set in a scarf-pin, will you?” He laughed in derision.
“All right,—a small nugget will do, I suppose. I must be going now; good morning.”
Syd gave a grunt in reply and slouched away. Tall and awkward, he thrust his head forward when he walked and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
Ben turned and watched him for a moment. “How he would rejoice in my failure!” he said to himself. “It’s odd that some people find their pleasure in just such things. Well, I hope he’ll not have that joy at my expense, that’s all.”
He regretted that he had yielded to the impulse to tell Syd.
“I wish I’d waited until I could have shown him the color of my gold,” he reflected. “Perhaps I sha’n’t find a pinch of it.”
Glancing up he saw that he had nearly reached Market Street, and, obeying a sudden impulse, he crossed that great artery and turned his steps toward the foundries.
He was glad to have something to divert his thoughts from his interview with Syd, and he spent the rest of the day in looking at machinery, more especially that used in mining.
The clash and clamor of the busy hives brought the difficulties of his undertaking glaringly before him. His own ignorance seemed appalling. How could he hope to compete with this skilled labor and wonderful machinery!
“I am not competing,” he told himself. “I am doing something which no one else has thought of. The idea is original,—here, at any rate,—and ideas can be made to pay.”