CHAPTER X.—PROPERTY HAS GONE UP.
MMEDIATELY after breakfast the following morning, Vance was waited upon by Col. Bonifield. The old miner bore a troubled expression on his face. Vance invited him to his room.
“Mr. Gilder,” said the old miner, as he raised himself to his full height, and with the dignity of a general addressed Vance: “I assure yo’, suh, I am greatly pained at the uncalled fo’ remarks which my sister made in yo’r presence last evening; I am indeed, suh.
“I assure you,” replied Vance, “there is no occasion to refer to the matter at all. I assured your daughter, and I now assure you, that I have every confidence in the mine, and will continue to have until you yourself have sufficient reason to shake your faith. I certainly cannot say more, and under the circumstances could not say less.”
“Mr. Gilder,” said the old miner, “yo’, suh, are a very honorable gentleman, and I am very proud of my partnership with yo’. I am indeed, suh. In regard to my sister—in her younger days, I assure yo’, she was one of the most rema’kable women of Virginia; yes, suh, a vehy rema’kable woman. She certainly has been a true sister to me, suh, and a faithful mother to my daughters, but in some way she disbelieves in Gray Rocks, and would yo’ believe it, suh, she has gone so far at times as to intimate that I am crazy as a March hare in regard to ever ‘strikin’ it rich’ on our minin’ property; yes, suh, she certainly has said some vehy bitter things against Gray Rocks, but fo’ all that, she is a vehy rema’kable woman, even to this day. Yes, suh, quite rema’kable.”
“I now have a matter, Mr. Gilder,” he continued, “of vehy great importance to discuss with yo.” Vance offered the old miner a cigar, which he accepted, and soon they were discussing the “important matter,” which of course referred to Gray Rocks.
“We are not far away, Mr. Gilder, from the 300 foot level. Our machinery and pumps, suh, have been workin’ rema’kably well. Two weeks mo’ and our shaft will be finished; yes, suh, finished. Then we will cross-cut, and my opinion is, it will be well fo’ yo’ to remain in Gold Bluff and be ready to send in yo’r resignation as cor’spondent of that New York paper; yes, suh that is my advice. It is only proper, suh, that yo’ should enjoy the riches that await yo’.”
“But supposing, Col. Bonifield,” said Vance, “supposing that you do not find any pay ore when you crosscut into the vein, as you say; in that event, I suppose you agree with me that it would be a pretty good idea for me to hold my position on the Banner?”
“Of cou’se, suh,” replied the old miner, “but there is but one chance in ten thousand that we won’t strike it. I admit of this one chance against us, suh, fo’ the sake of argument alone. Mr. Grim is now takin’ out of the Peacock some of the richest ore I ever saw in my life, he is indeed, suh—and his mine joins ours, as yo’ know, directly on the nawth.”
Vance was silent for a few moments, and then said: “In the event, Col. Bonifield, we do not strike it; what then? Will you be discouraged?”
“No, suh; if we fail at the 300 foot level, suh, and yo’ can furnish the money, we will start the next mornin’ fo’ the 400 foot level; but I assure yo’, suh, I have no idea yo ‘ll have to furnish any mo’ money. Gray Rocks is a sure winner; it is indeed, suh. The oldest miners in the camp say that if we stick to Gray Rocks it will be worth mo’ in five years than Rufus Grim’s Peacock mine. When I was yo’r age, Mr. Gilder,” he continued, blowing a cloud of smoke away out of the window toward Gray Rocks, “I could not have stuck to that property year after year as I have been doin’. Why suh, it took a quarter of a century’s experience fo’ me to learn that a rollin’ stone gathers no moss’. it did indeed, suh. Now I have observed the fellows that strike it, in nine cases out of ten, are the ones who follow up and hold on after they once strike a trail. Why, suh, if yo’ had seen the float rock that I found befo’ stakin’ out Gray Rocks, yo’ would know why I believe there is an entire hill full of wealth over yonder.”
While they were talking there came a gentle rap on the door. Vance called out for them to “come in. The door opened, and a boy sidled into the room with a letter in his hand and asked for Col. Bonifield.
“At yo’r service, suh,” said the old miner’ rising with much dignity. “Thank yo’, suh,” said he, taking the letter. The boy took himself off, closing the door behind him, while the colonel, adjusting his glasses, read aloud the address, “Miss Louise Bonifield.”
Dropping his glasses from his eyes, he placed the letter in his pocket and said: “Mr. Boast has evidently returned to Gold Bluff.”
“Mr. Boast, did you say?” asked Vance.
“Yes, suh, Mr. Boast—a young man in whom I have only the slightest confidence. His full name is J. Arthur Boast. His father, Colonel Boast, lives on a ranch about three miles from here.”
Vance could never explain why, but the unfavorable opinion he had formed of J. Arthur Boast while at Waterville was in the twinkling of an eye changed to hatred. Soon after, Colonel Bonifield took his departure, and Vance commenced preparing for his next day’s fishing-jaunt. His door had been left ajar, and presently he heard a squeaky, ill-omened voice that he well remembered.
“How do you do, Mr. Gilder?”
Vance turned and saw J. Arthur Boast standing at his door. “How do you do,” said Vance, rather abruptly.
“I did not expect to find you at Gold Bluff,” said Boast in an insinuating tone of voice.
“Why not?” said Vance; without deigning to look up.
“Oh, you eastern fellows, and newspaper men in particular, never stay very long in one place. So you’ve met my old mining friend, Colonel Bonifield?”
“Yes,” replied Vance.
“I presume you’ve met his daughter, Miss Louise?” As he made this remark he looked out of the corners of his restless eyes in a manner that was intended to be cunning Vance was full of resentment, and dared not trust himself to make and immediate reply. Presently Boast continued: “They are old friends, of mine; a most respectable family. I used to live in Gold Bluff; may live here again. One can’t say what may happen, you know.”
“I thought,” said Vance, “you were in love with Waterville.”
“One’s in love where one’s possessions are, don’t you see?”
Vance did not reply to the question, but busied himself with his fishing tackle. Presently Boast took a bottle from his pocket, and said:
“Will you have a drink of red liquor Vance replied in the negative.
“Well, I suppose,” said Boast, “I ought not to drink so much. The truth is, I am a pretty devilish hard citizen. I am drinking entirely too much of the stuff, but no one takes interest enough in me to tell me so; yet I know I’m going to the bad. The habit is formed and what is a fellow going to do about it?”
He waited some time for a reply, but as Vance made none, he proceeded to pour out a small portion of the contents of the bottle into a glass, and then added some water to it and stood looking out of the window.
“Won’t you be seated?” asked Vance.
“Thank you, I believe I will,” replied Boast, and sat down with the glass of liquor in his hand, and said nothing for several minutes. He acted as if he dreaded the ordeal of swallowing the portion, but felt it would not do to set it aside after all he had said in regard to being a hard drinker. Finally he gulped it down at a single swallow, and then drank a great quantity of water immediately afterward. He strangled considerably and his eyes became very red, and evidently was glad the trial was over. Presently he said:
“Mr. Gilder, there are things going to happen down at Waterville in the next ninety days that will surprise everyone. Some very large manufacturing enterprises wall soon be located there.”
“That certainly is very welcome news,” replied Vance, “as a property owner in the new city, I am naturally interested in its development.”
"Property has gone up ten per cent since you were there.”
“Is that so?” said Vance, looking up in some surprise. “Of course,” Boast continued, “I am selling my special bargain list at the same old prices, but the Company and other real estate agents who have desk room here and there over the town, are trying very hard to inflate prices. I am holding them level, however, and intend to keep on doing so. I don’t propose having Waterville killed by a lot of town boomers, who are trying to get prices away above intrinsic values.”
“It is very fortunate,” replied Vance, “that Waterville has such a conservative citizen as yourself.”
“It’s very complimentary for you to say so, I am sure,” replied Boast. “Of course. Mr. Gilder, I would not say anything detrimental about anyone.”
“Certainly not,” replied Vance. The tenor of his conversation was decidedly wicked in its insinuations; indeed, one to hear him talk would naturally think the destiny of Waterville rested entirely with J. Arthur Boast. Presently, in a high, creaking voice, he said:
“How do you like Miss Louise?”
“Miss Louise?” repeated Vance, with a perplexed look on his face.
“Yes, Miss Louise Bonifield. How do you like her? Pretty fair specimen for the west, ain’t she?”
“My likes and dislikes,” said Vance, “are hardly to be taken into consideration. One seldom forms an opinion until he is acquainted. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. I have known people for a very short time, and yet instinctively taken a great dislike to them. Miss Bonifield,” continued Vance, without looking up, "has the appearance of a lady of refinement and culture, but as my observations have been limited, I can hardly say more than that I am well pleased with both the young lady and her father.” At this Vance prepared to leave the room.
“You’d better drink with me,” said Boast, taking up his bottle again.
“I am liable to drink every drop of this liquor before I let up, and you’d only be doing me a kindness by dividing it up with me a little.”
“No, thank you,” replied Vance. “Very well,” said Boast “I shall remain in Gold Bluff several days, and hope to see you often.”
Vance closed the door after Boast had left his room, and the one word, “Scoundrel!” hissed through his teeth.