Sol’s tidy wife came out to meet the boys, closely followed by the trader himself.
Phil was spokesman.
“Mr. Brunt this is my partner, Tom Danvers; my name is Phil Gormley. We’ve been in the hills three months and haven’t found a grain, but we don’t give up just yet. We have no money between us, but we have been hoping you could give us enough work this week to pay for board and lodging and some stores to give us a lift to the next range.”
“Well, boys, I’m right glad to see you,” said Sol, and Mrs. Brunt looked at them with pitying eyes. “As to the lodging and the things, I’ll just take verbal acknowledgement of the debt when you leave. Young fellows who talk as you do usually get along and pay their debts too. As to the work, I want a little help on my hay this week, and I don’t mind reducing your little bill in that way.”
“Just the thing for us,” exclaimed Tom Danvers. “You’ll find we’re experts in that line.”
“So much the better then, my boy,” responded their genial host.
The shadows were falling in the valley as the sun sank behind the mountain tops, and Mrs. Brunt went inside. Her reappearance was heralded by savory odors from the kitchen, and after a refreshing splash in cool water from a mountain rill the boys sat down with their hosts to a bountiful supper. Then chairs were brought to the doorway, where in the gloom they watched the rising and falling light of Sol’s pipe while he spun countless yarns of mining life which were, in truth, largely interspersed with mining death, mostly tragic in character.
Before bidding the boys good night, Sol delicately offered to give them some advice, which the boys eagerly accepted.
“I like pluck,” said Sol, “and I don’t want to discourage it; but I do hate to see it turned into an empty sluice. You’ve prospected all over the pass here and found nothing. Thousands have done the same before you. What is true of Placer Notch is pretty generally true of all the hills. In the early days the country swarmed with men, and almost every acre was gone over many times. What wasn’t found is not worth looking for. I don’t say the richest pay dirt ever discovered may not yet be turned up, but to waste your best years on a gamble is not the thing for boys with grit in them. Go into some business; it will pay you better if you have to start on three dollars a week; with a head and a backbone you may get to be of some account in a line where every minute sees something to be accomplished.”
As the boys were preparing for bed, Tom remarked: