Nelly's Silver Mine Part 26

"Well, that beats me! Acres like this, you say?"

"Miles, Deacon," said Mr. March.

"Miles 'n' miles," said Billy; "'s fur's you can see it wavin' in the wind; 't looks like wheat, only puttier. P'raps you'd better show him the wheat now?"

Mr. March pulled out of his other pocket a similar wisp of wheat, and handed it to the Deacon. This he straightened out, as he had the gra.s.s, across his knees, and looked at it in silence for a moment; then he tasted the kernel; then he rolled up both wheat and gra.s.s together, and handed them back to Mr. March, saying:

"I've got nothin' more to say. Seein' 's believin'."

Long Billy nodded his head triumphantly, and winked at Mr. March.

"But," continued the Deacon, "for all that I don't feel it clear in my mind about our goin'. 'Twouldn't make any difference to ye, Parson, anyway, if Elizy 'n' I didn't go; would it?"

Mr. March was much surprised.

"Why, Deacon!" he said, "we should be very sorry to have you separate from us. You surely can't stay on in this place!"

"Oh, no!" replied the Deacon; "we hain't the least idea o' that. The fact is, I expect we ought to go home: Elizy's so poorly. We've been thinkin' on't for some time. But we was so kind o' settled here, and all so home-like, we hated to stir. But if you're goin' to break up, and go to a new place, I expect we'd better take that time to go home."

This was not wholly a surprise to Mr. and Mrs. March, for they had themselves felt that old Mrs. Plummer would after all be better off in her comfortable home in Mayfield. They saw that she was growing slowly more feeble: the climate did not suit her.

"I reckon we're kind o' old for this country," said the Deacon. "It don't seem to me's I feel quite so fust-rate's I did at home. Trees gets too old to transplant after a while."

"That's so! that's so!" exclaimed Billy. "I've never yet seen the fust time, old folks adoin' well here. The air's too bracin' for 'em. They can't get used to it,--no offence to you, sir,"--looking at Deacon Plummer.

"Oh, no offence,--no offence at all," replied the Deacon. "I don't make any bones about ownin' that I'm old. Me 'n' my wife's both seen our best days; 'n' I reckon we're best off at home. I think we'd better go, Parson. We're mighty sorry to leave you; but when you move south, we'll start the other way towards home. Ain't that so, Elizy?" Mrs. Plummer had been rocking violently for the last few minutes, with her face buried in her handkerchief.

"Yes," she sobbed, "I expect so. It's just providential, the hull on't."

"Dear Mrs. Plummer, do not cry so!" exclaimed Mrs. March. "We have had a very pleasant time. It is only a few months; and when you get home, it will only seem as if you had taken a six months' journey. I really think you will be better in Mayfield than here."

"Oh, I've no doubt on't," said Mrs. Plummer, still crying in her handkerchief; "but I thought we was a goin' to live with you all the rest o' our lives. It's a awful disappointment to me. But it's all providential. It's a comfort to know that."

When Zeb heard the news that the family would break up in a few days,--the Marches to move to Wet Mountain Valley, and the Plummers to go back to Ma.s.sachusetts,--he was very sorry. He turned on his heel without saying a word, and went into the barn.

"Just your luck, Abe Mack!" he said, under his breath; "you don't no sooner get used to a place 'n' to folks, 'n' feel real contented, than somethin' happens to tip ye out. Ye're born onlucky; I reckon there's no use fightin'. They're so took up with this long-legged spindle of a mule-driver I expect they won't want me; 'n' I don't want to go down into no minin' country, nuther,--'taint safe. I'll see if the old man won't take me back to the States. I've got enough to pay my way, if he'll give me work after I get there, and I reckon I'd be safe from any o' them Georgetown fellers in Ma.s.sachusetts."

The Deacon was very glad to take Zeb back with him. He had learned to like the man, and he needed such a hand on his farm.

And so it was all settled, and everybody went to work as hard as possible to get ready for the move. Nelly and Rob hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry. They loved the hills so much, they were afraid they would not love the valley so well. Yet their heads were nearly turned by Long Billy's stories of the wonderful mines in Rosita; of the machinery in the stamp-mill where they crushed the ore and got the silver out; of the delicious wild grapes on Grape Creek; and the trout, and the flowers on the hills.

"Yer hain't ever seen any flowers yet," said Billy, when Nelly tried to tell him how many flowers grew in the Pa.s.s; "ye jest wait till I take ye up on Pine's ranch, some Sunday. I'll show ye flowers then: sixty odd kinds in one field,--yes, sure! I counted 'em; and old Pine he counted em too. And he sent 'em off by express once, some of each kind, to the folks at Washington. You'll see!"

Just three weeks from the day Long Billy first drove into the shadow of the old saw-mill to camp, the March and Plummer family set out on their journeys: Fox and Pumpkinseed drawing one big white-topped wagon, in which were Mrs. March, Deacon and Mrs. Plummer, Nelly and Rob. Billy's two mules drew the other big wagon, which was loaded down very heavily with the furniture Mr. March had bought. Mr. March drove this; and Billy, mounted on a new horse which he had bought, was driving all the cattle before him. Zeb sat by Mr. March's side in the mule wagon. He and Deacon and Mrs. Plummer were to take the cars at Colorado Springs, and go to Denver. Mr. and Mrs. March had begged them to come down with them into Wet Mountain Valley, and make a visit. But the Deacon said "No."

"The fact is," he said, "I may's well own it: now that we're really started for home, we're dreadful homesick. I didn't know's I had felt it so much. Can't transplant old trees, Parson, no use! It's a good country for young folks,--a good country; I shall tell the boys about it. But give me old Ma.s.sachusetts. I just hanker after a sight o' the old buryin'-ground, 'n' that black elder-bush in the corner on't."

When they parted at the little railroad station in Colorado Springs, Mrs. Plummer broke down and cried. Nelly cried a little too, from sympathy; and even Watch whined, seeing that something unusual and uncomfortable was going on. Luckily, however, good-bys at railway stations always are cut short. The engine-bell rings, and the cars move off, and that puts an end to the last words. Mr. and Mrs. March were sorry to part from these good old people; and yet, if the whole truth were told, it must be owned that they felt a sense of relief when they were gone. They had felt, all the while, a responsibility for their comfort, and a fear lest they should be taken ill, which had been burdensome.

"We shall miss them: shan't we?" said Mrs. March, as the train moved off.

"Yes," said Nelly; "I'm real sorry they're gone. I like Zeb too."

"We'll miss the crullers," said Rob. "Say, mamma, didn't she show you how to make 'em?"

"Rob," said his father, "you ought to be a Chinese."

"Why?" asked Rob.

"Because they think the seat of all life is in the stomach; and they give great honor to people with very big stomachs," answered his father.

Rob did not know whether his father were laughing at him or not. He suspected he might be.

"I don't know what you mean, papa," he said: "you like crullers, anyhow."

"Fair hit, Rob!" said Mrs. March. "Fair hit, papa!"

The journey to Rosita took six days: they had to go very slowly on account of the cattle. The weather was perfect; and every night they slept on the ground, in a tent which Mr. March had bought in Colorado Springs. Rob rode on Pumpkinseed's back a good part of the way, like a little postilion. Before the end of the journey, they were all so burnt by the sun that they looked, Mrs. March said, "a great deal more like Indians than like white people." They drove into Rosita just at sunset. I wish I could tell you how beautiful the whole place looked to them. You go down a steep hill, just as you come into the town of Rosita. On the top of this hill, Mr. March called out to his wife to stop. She was driving Fox and Pumpkinseed; and he was following behind with the mules. He jumped out, and came up to the side of her wagon.

"There, Sarah!" he said, "did you ever see any thing in your life so beautiful as this?"

Mrs. March did not speak; both she and Nelly and even Rob were struck dumb by the beauty of the picture. They looked right down into the little village. It was cuddled in the ravine as if it had gone to sleep there. The sides of the hills were dotted with pine-trees; and most of the little houses were built of bright yellow pine boards: they shone in the sun. Just beyond the village they could see a bit of a most beautiful green valley; and, beyond that, great high mountains, half covered with snow.

"That is the valley," said Mr. March; "that bit of bright green, way down there to the west."

Nelly was the first to speak.

"Papa," said she, "it looks just like a beautiful green bottom to a deep well: doesn't it?"

"Yes, this little bit that you see of it from here, does," said Mr.

March: "but, after you get into it, it doesn't look so. It is thirty miles long; and so level you would think you were on the plains. And oh, Nell! you can see your dear Pike's Peak grandly there! It looks twice as high here as it does from any place I have seen it."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" said Nelly.

Still Mrs. March did not speak. Her husband turned to her at last, anxiously, and said:--

"Don't you like it, Sarah?"

"Oh, Robert!" she said, "it is so beautiful it doesn't look to me like a real place. It looks like a painted picture!"

"That'll do! that'll do!" laughed Mr. March; "I'm satisfied. Now we'll go down the hill."

Rob nudged Nelly. They were on the back seat of the wagon.

"Nell," he whispered, "did you ever see any thing like it? I see lots of silver mines all round on the hills. Billy told me how they looked. Those piles of stones are all on top of mines; that's where they throw out the stones. I'll bet we'll find a mine."

"Oh," said Nelly, "wouldn't that be splendid! Let's go out the first thing to-morrow morning."

Mr. March had planned to stay in Rosita a couple of days, before going down to his farm in the valley. He wished to become acquainted with some of the Rosita tradesmen, and to find out all about the best ways of doing things in this new life. Long Billy proved a good helper now. Everybody in Rosita knew Long Billy and liked him; and, when he said to his friends, confidentially: