Ned pressed for a definite promise, but Chris remained firm and went to help Griggs in his preparation of the first breakfast that had been eaten upon the old hearth for two years.
It was rough; but appetite would have made up for that, only it seemed wanting, and the steaming coffee and tough damper bread remained almost untasted for a time, every one being thoughtful and silent.
At last the doctor spoke.
“Look here,” he said, “I’ve got something upon my mind, and judging from your looks it seems to me that every one is not only troubled in the same way, but eager to get that something off. Am I right in coming to the conclusion that you are all thinking of the same thing?”
“I guess I am,” said Griggs.
“I’m sure I am,” said Bourne.
“I’m thinking that the sooner we get to work the better,” said Wilton.
“That’s soon settled, then,” said the doctor, “for there is no occasion to ask the boys—it’s written plainly in both their faces. We all think that it would be madness to talk of leaving such a home as we can make of this.”
“All!” came in chorus, and then the appetite for breakfast, while they worked afterwards as they had never worked before to master and drive back the encroaching forest; fetch stores with their mule-train from the distant port; rebuild and restore; and in due time plant, gather, and farm, to provide the necessaries of life, till Golden Hollow, as it was renamed, became a veritable Eden—a home which, attracted others, till as time went on the peril finders’ struggle to grasp at the phantom gold seemed to grow more and more like some exciting dream.
“Ever think of the shooting now, boys?” said Griggs one day, as he stood by the side of the great green basket of fruit he had gathered and just set down, to turn over some half-a-dozen that were beginning to glow like gold.