"I suppose you're right, lad. I suppose you're right. I ought to be glad I'm still alive. But when you're gettin' old and poor and you ain't able to work like you've been used to and everythin' seems to be goin' against you, it ain't so easy to keep cheerful."
The old man seemed so down-hearted that the boys did their best to console him, but this final disaster to his humble cottage had proved a hard blow. He lacked the resiliency and optimism of youth.
"There was a time when I should have been worth lots of money," he told the boys. "And if I had my rights I ought to be worth lots of money to-day. But here I am, with not many years ahead of me, livin' away out here alone in a little two-by-twice cabin, and now the wind has to come along and blow it into the lake. It don't seem fair, somehow."
"What do you do for a living, Mr. Wilson?" asked Chet Morton.
"I've been doin' a bit of trappin' and huntin' lately," the old man replied. "Most of my life I've been a miner. I've traveled all over the country."
The boys were at once interested.
"A miner, were you?"
"Yep. I've been in Montana and Nevada in the early days."
At mention of Montana the Hardy boys glanced at one another. Jadbury Wilson did not seem to notice.
"I've been in the Klondike in the rush of ninety-eight and I've been up in Cobalt and the Porcupine, too. Made a little money here and there, but somehow somethin' always happened to keep me out of the big winnin's. If I had my rights I ought to be worth plenty. But it's too late now," he sighed. "It's too late for me to start out on the trails again. I ain't young enough now."