THE WELCOME LETTER—CONCLUSION
"Well, what are we going to do now?" asked Mrs. Crosby as a little later she, with her husband and daughter, sat in their desolate home.
"We've got to do something," replied Mr. Crosby. "I've got to make a new start, I suppose, and it comes hard at my time of life."
"Let me help, daddy," said Nettie, putting her arm around her father's neck. "I heard of a good place in the woolen mill. I can earn four dollars a week."
"Not while I have health and strength," replied Mr. Crosby. "We'll manage to make out somehow," he added more cheerfully, for now that the worst had happened, he was ready to face anything.
"The boys ought to know about this," said Mrs. Crosby. "Maybe they have found a gold mine and can help us."
"Not much chance of that," responded her husband. "But I would like to hear from them. We haven't had a letter since they got to the mountains, and the last time they wrote they were about to start for Dizzy Gulch. We can't expect any help from them, but perhaps they will want to come back, now that we have lost our farm. Probably we three can get work on some place—enough to earn a living, anyhow."
"It will seem strange to be working for some one else, when you have had your own farm so many years," said Mrs. Crosby.
"A man's farm isn't very much his when there's a mortgage on it. Never again will I try to live under such conditions. Why, I feel almost happy, now that I know there is no interest to meet. We will go somewhere else and begin life over again."
"Yes, and we've got to go somewhere to-night," added Nettie with a laugh, the first real one since their misfortune. "We have no beds here—nearly everything was sold. What are we going to do, daddy—sleep in the barn, in the hay? Do you suppose the sheriff would let us?"
"No need for that," replied her father. "We'll go to the hotel to-night. In the morning I will consider matters, and decide what is best to do. But I think I'll write a letter to the boys and tell them the bad news as gently as possible. Have you their address, Nettie?"
"Yes, father, but I imagine they must be in the mountains now."
"Well, mail will probably be forwarded. I'll ask them if they made out any worse with their gold hunting than I did with my farming."
But though he made light of it, Mr. Crosby was a man broken in spirit. Through no fault of his own he found himself, in the decline of life, with hardly enough to live on half a year, and no prospects of anything better. Still he did not despair.
The little family went to the village hotel that evening. Many of their neighbors, who sympathized with them, invited them to share their homes, but Mr. Crosby thought it would be less embarrassing for his wife and daughter if they went to the hotel.
It was on the way there that Mr. Hayson, the village postmaster, stopped Mr. Crosby on the street.
"Sorry to hear of your bad luck," he said.
"It might have been worse," replied Mr. Crosby.
"Yes, but not much. I was on my way over to your place. I got a special-delivery letter for you, but as I didn't have anybody I could send with it, and as you didn't call, I had to keep it until I closed the office up. Here it is," and he drew from his pocket a rather soiled envelope with a blue stamp thereon.
"Must have come a good way," remarked the postmaster. "I couldn't make out where, the marks were so blurred."
"Why, it's Jed's writing!" exclaimed Mr. Crosby.
"Jed? Your son?"
"Yes. He and his brother are in the West looking for gold, but I don't suppose they'll find any."
Mr. Crosby opened the letter and rapidly read it. As he did so the expression on his face changed. The look of care seemed to disappear, and his eyes brightened.
"Looks as if it was good news," observed Mr. Hayson, who was an old acquaintance.
"It is. Read that."
Mr. Hayson rapidly glanced down the page. Some of the news which Jed wrote was unimportant, but this much seemed to stand out in bold relief:
"We have struck a bonanza! One of the richest mines in the West! Will and I are rich! Sell out and come on. We have staked claims for the whole family!
"Jed."
"Well, of all things! Who'd have believed it! A bonanza! Gold mines! Them boys rich!" exclaimed Mr. Hayson. "What are you going to do, neighbor Crosby?"
"Do? Why, I'm going out there as fast as a train can take me. Sell out! I don't have to wait to sell out. I'm sold out already. But I must hurry and tell my wife and daughter. This is the best news I've had in many a year. The boys have struck it rich. Things looked pretty black a little while ago, but this welcome letter has changed everything. God bless Gabe Harrison! I guess he must have had a hand in this."
Three weeks later, when Mr. Crosby, his wife and daughter reached the new diggings where Jed, Will and the old miner were, they learned all the details of the wonderful strike.
For the mine, or rather mines, as there were several of them, were indeed bonanzas. The good luck of Jed and Will, which began when they found the nuggets, continued, and every claim staked out was a rich one.
A regular gold-mining company was formed, taking over the temporary one started by Jed and the other miners, and the Crosby family were the principal holders of the stock. Machinery was installed, and at last accounts the concern was paying better than ever.
One day Gabe, who made his home with the Crosby family, came in looking quite pleased over something.
"What's the matter?" asked Jed. "Have you found some more nuggets?"
"No, but almost as good. That gambler, Con Morton, has been arrested, and I understand I am likely to get back most of the property out of which he swindled me."
A few weeks later this occurred, and though Gabe did not regain all of his fortune, he had enough to live on in comfort. Morton was sentenced to a long term in prison. His two cronies disappeared, and were never heard of in that region again.
As for Jed and Will, those plucky lads who graduated from a farm to a gold claim, they are now among the most prosperous and best known miners of the West, and if you are ever out that way I advise you to call on them. Perhaps they will show you where to pick up a small nugget or two as a souvenir of your visit.