These conjectures kept Jerry Rook from making any immediate answer.
Taking advantage of his silence, the young man continued—
“I know, Jerry Rook, you will be wanting for your son-in-law some one with means; at least, enough to support your daughter in a decent position in society. I am fortunate enough to have this, obtained by hard toil, in the gold placers of California. If you wish satisfaction on this head, I can refer to the Pacific Banking Company of San Francisco, where, three years ago, I deposited my three year’s gatherings—in all, I believe, about fifty thousand dollars.”
“Fifty thousand dollars! D’ye mean that, Pierre Robideau?”
“I mean it. If I had a light here, I could show you the proof of the deposit.”
“Come into the house, Pierre. I don’t mean for a light. Ye’ll stay all night? Thar’s a spare bed; and Lena’ll see to your heving some supper. Come along in.”
The lucky gold-seeker made no opposition to the proffered hospitality; and in five minutes after he was seated by the fireside of the man who, but five minutes before, had been chafing at having lost the opportunity of spilling his blood!