The next morning found Julius digging laboriously in the hard ground back of the hotel, within the space marked off by Mr. Turner, with a song upon his lips and the firm conviction in his breast that in a few days he would be on his way to Ohio with the money that was to make ma and the girls comfortable.
All day long he worked assiduously, never pausing to note the looks of contempt and ridicule that were cast upon him by the passing miners who were working up the gulch with pick, shovel and pan.
That night Mr. Turner’s cellar was half done, and Julius was as hopeful as ever, confidently remarking to Mr. Purdy that he would surely find the gold tomorrow, as he was getting the space narrowed down now. He jubilantly dilated upon the manner in which he would apply his fortune, not forgetting to mention that the whole party were to have a big supper at his expense—which caused the judge to regret, momentarily, that the whole thing was a practical joke upon the Easterner.
Julius rose betimes the following morning, and again proceeded to work, as confident that the sun would set upon him a rich man that night as he was that a temperance movement was the one thing needful in Nugget Bar.
That afternoon about four o’clock, as the usual group were gathered in front of the “Golden Nugget,” indolently discussing various abstract moral and social problems, of which this story does not take cognizance, and Mr. Turner was inwardly congratulating himself on the imminent completion of his cellar, Julius Anderly suddenly appeared around the corner of the house, his pick and shovel on his shoulder. He had the air of a man who had finished his day’s work.
“Well, I suppose I’ll have to leave you in the morning,” he said. “There’s a party of miners from up the gulch going down, and I can go with them; I found the gold all right enough, thanks to you, Mr. Turner, and my other friends here.”
“You wha-a-t?” screamed Mr. Turner, evidencing more energy than had ever before characterized any remark of his made within the hearing of any of the assembled residents of Nugget Bar. “You found wha-a-t?”
“Why, I’ve found the gold, you know,” answered Julius, slightly bewildered by the general paralytic attitude of the group, and by this unexpected and unprecedented display of energy on Mr. Turner’s part. “I’ve got a whole pile of gold round here—found it just as you said—and a man that saw me says I may go down with his party tomorrow.”
Consternation was written upon the faces of all the group. Consternation? Yes, and wild alarm, terrified surprise, and incredulity and anger and sheepishness, and many other emotions too numerous and heterogeneous to admit of specification. With one accord they dashed off to the scene of Julius’s labors.
Yes, there was a pile of golden nuggets, just as they had been taken from their strange, unthought of hiding place, where some fanciful freak of nature had stowed them—a most convincing proof of nature’s whimsicality.