“There’s nothing like a good walk to make a fellow feel hungry. I wonder how Stockton is getting along.”
“He will make something at any rate. I pity Silverthorn if ever our long-legged friend gets hold of him.”
After an hour they resumed their walk, and about four o’clock they reached their destination. They visited the location of the claim, and surveyed it with a guarded manner, not wishing to draw attention to it.
They fell in with a thin man, of medium stature, who talked in a drawling tone. He seemed to have a considerable share of curiosity.
“Where might you be from, strangers?” he inquired.
“We might be from China, but we aint,” said Tom.
“Is that a joke?” asked their new acquaintance, puzzled.
“Oh, yes; we’re entirely willing. We came from Howe’s Gulch.”
“No; we struck it poor,” said Grant, with a smile. “We found ourselves headed for the poorhouse, so we switched off.”
“I was at Howe’s Gulch myself a year ago.”
“No; I’m farming. I live just out of the village—me and Mrs. Crambo, and a boy that’s working for us.”
“How would you like a couple of boarders?”
“Come to the house, then, and speak to Mrs. Crambo. If she’s agreeable, I am.”
They accompanied their new friend to a plain, but comfortable house, looking not unlike a New England farm-house. Mrs. Crambo was a pleasant looking woman, weighing at least fifty pounds more than her lord and master. She was evidently the “better man of the two,” being active and energetic, while he was slow and seemed to find exertion difficult.
“If you are willing to set up a hotel, Mrs. Crambo,” said her husband, “I bring you two boarders for a starter.”
“I shouldn’t mind a little company,” she said pleasantly. “How long have you been out here?”
“Not long enough to make our fortunes,” answered Tom.
“Do you expect to make them out here?” she asked shrewdly.
“We would like to. Perhaps Mr. Crambo will put us in the way of doing it.”
“Do you hear that, Paul?” she said, laughing.
“I haven’t made my own yet,” he answered slowly.
“If it rained gold pieces, you wouldn’t pick up enough to keep you going for three months. You know you are shiftless, Paul.”
“Well, perhaps I am, Martha. I can’t get up and hustle like you.”
“No, you’re not one of the hustling kind. Well, gentlemen, if you want to stay with us awhile, and don’t object to seven dollars a week each, we’ll try to accommodate you. When do you want to begin?”