But the meeting that day of the old miner and the two boys was destined to have a far-reaching effect, and the head of the pick, which Gabe Harrison carried mainly for sentimental reasons, played quite a part in the adventures that were soon to follow.
"Where did I dig gold?" repeated Gabe, as he finished tying up his pack. "Well, young man—Jed, I mean, if you'll allow me to call you that—I've dug gold 'most every place there was gold to dig. I'm not particular that way. I've prospected all over the Western part of the United States, and I've even been in Alaska, where I nearly froze to death, but I got a lot of gold there."
"What made you give it up?" asked Jed, becoming more and more interested.
"I didn't. I had bad luck, though it was as much my fault as it was anything else."
"Did some one rob you?"
"Yes, but for the matter of that I gave them the chance. It was mostly my own fault. I'm my own worst enemy, my lad, but I think I've turned over a new leaf, and when Gabe Harrison does the foolish things he used to do, I hope you'll send him a special-delivery letter and tell him so."
"I will, if he leaves me his address," replied Jed, entering into the spirit of the occasion.
"I'll do that. There, your brother has caught the horse. I thought that salt would fetch the critter. I had a mule once—but that's a long while ago. Maybe I'll tell you about it some day."
Will had caught old Pete, and the horse was eagerly licking up the salt from the lad's hat.
"I'll open the bars for you," called Jed, hurrying forward to help his brother. "Is he hurt any?"