“‘What’s the use anyway?’ says he, ‘the man’s dead and the money’s no good for him, and besides, nobody knows who he is.’
“‘I do,’ says I, jumpin’ up.
“‘And I,’ says another fellow, ‘the man just come into camp a day or two ago, and his family’s starvin’.”
“Well, we bundled that money up pretty sudden, and a half a dozen of us started to find the folks; we found ’em, too, but the wife was dead, starved to death, and the children wouldn’t have lasted much longer. The oldest, a girl about eight years old, told that they had nothin’ to eat for two days, and her father found the dollar, and started down to the store for food, but soon after he left the cabin, the mother died.
“We buried Pete and his wife in one grave, and then with the pile of money we got good homes for the children, and some of it was to be used in givin’ ’em a good eddication, and the last I heerd, they was comin’ on well. But I’ve never set down to a game sence, that I haven’t thought of the night I played faro, with a dead man at the table.”
At the conclusion of the old miner’s story, a little suppressed thrill of excitement ran through his audience. Morgan, who had seemed restless and ill at ease, rose to go, and Houston, finding it much later than he supposed, after a few pleasant words with the boys, bade them good night, and hastened after Morgan, who was already sauntering up the road a little way in advance.
CHAPTER XXVII.
“Well,” said Morgan, as Houston overtook him, “what do you think of a ‘genuwine minin’ camp,’ as Billy calls it?”