CHAPTER III
JEEMS’ STORY
So the clan shortly after supper gathered at the after hatch on the main deck to hear what Jeems had to tell them in regard to this stray, lost, or stolen mine in the depths of the Sierra Nevadas. The captain was seated in his old chair upon the quarter deck, and, in the gloaming, puffing thoughtfully at his weathered old pipe, meditating, like as not, on the days of long ago, when he was as full of life as that bunch now talking and laughing on the main deck.
“This is a fine old night,” declared Jo, as he stretched himself comfortably out on the canvas cover of the hatch.
“I never saw so many stars before,” declared Tom, “must be a million in sight.”
“Not so, son,” remarked Jeems. “There is not more than three thousand visible to the naked eye.”
“Go on with you,” said Tom, conclusively, “you needn’t tell me that. It’s as much of a yarn as your story of the lost mine.”
“Don’t mind him, Jeems,” said Jim. “Let’s hear your tale of woe about this mine that somebody lost.”