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’.”