“At any rate, we are willing to work,” said Ernest.
“Then I’m your friend, and will help you,” said the miner heartily. “Tom Ashton never goes back on his friends.”
This was very encouraging. Luke and Ernest were not dead broke, but were near it. They had less than forty dollars between them, and they had already found out that living was high in California. They remained but a day in San Francisco, and then started for Oreville with Mr. Ashton.
The two friends knew nothing of mining, but as practiced in those days it took very little time to learn. They found that their new friend was a man of consideration at Oreville. He owned several claims, and had no difficulty in finding them employment. They set to work at once, for they were almost penniless.
It may easily be supposed that the miners were not fastidious about living. The cabins or huts which they occupied were primitive to the last degree. Generally they did their own cooking, such as it was. Three of these cabins Tom Ashton owned, and one was assigned to the use of Ernest and his friend.
For years Ernest, with his old friend and supposed uncle, Peter Brant, had lived in a cabin at Oak Forks, but it was superior to their new residence. Yet his former experience enabled him the better to accommodate himself to the way of living at Oreville.
For a month the two friends worked steadily at their claim, which Ashton had finally given them. They made little. In fact, it was with difficulty that they made expenses.
“It will be a long time before we make our pile, Ernest,” said Luke one evening, as he sat in front of his cabin smoking.
“Yes, Luke, things don’t look very promising,” replied Ernest gravely.
“If it weren’t for my pipe I should feel blue.”