The Boys of Crawford's Basin Part 29

"I'm not fooling, Mr. Yetmore. We've found it all right--this evening.

Come in and have some supper, and we'll tell you all about it."

Yetmore did not decline a second time, but forgetting even to tie up his horse, which Joe did for him, he followed me at once into the kitchen, where, hardly noticing Peter, to whom I introduced him, and neglecting entirely the food placed before him, he sat down and instantly exclaimed:

"Now, Phil! Quick! Go ahead! Go ahead! Don't keep me waiting, there's a good fellow! How did you find the ore? Where is it? What have you done with it?"

Not to prolong his suspense, I at once related to him as briefly as possible the whole incident, winding up with the statement that we proposed to go and bring in the sacks by daylight on the morrow.

At this conclusion Yetmore sprang to his feet.

"Boys," said he, in a tremulous voice, "you've done me an immense service; now do me one more favor: lend me your big gun. I'll ride right up to the 'bubble' and stand guard over the ore till morning. If I should lose it a second time I believe it would turn my head."

That he was desperately in earnest was plain to be seen: his voice was shaky, and his hand, I noticed, was shaky, too, when he held it out entreating us to lend him our big gun.

I was about to say he might take it, and welcome, when Joe pulled me by the sleeve and whispered in my ear; I nodded my acquiescence; upon which my companion, turning to Yetmore, said:

"We can do better than that, Mr. Yetmore. We'll hitch up the little mules and go and bring away the ore to-night."

I have no doubt that to our anxious visitor the time seemed interminable while Joe and I were finishing our supper, but at length we rose from the table, and within a few minutes thereafter we were off; Yetmore himself sitting in the bed of the wagon with the big shotgun across his knees.

As it was then quite dark, and as we did not wish to attract any possible notice by carrying a light, we were obliged to take it very slowly, one or other of us now and then descending from the wagon and walking ahead as a pilot. In due time, however, we reached the foot of the "bubble," when, leaving Yetmore to take care of the mules, Joe and I climbed up to the crevice, and having presently, by feeling around with our hands, found the hiding-place of the sacks, we pulled them out and carried them, one at a time down to the wagon. All this, being done in the dark, took a long time, and it was pretty late when we drew up again at our own door.

Here, for the first time, Yetmore, striking a match, examined the ten little sacks.

"It's all right, boys," said he, with a great sigh of relief. "These are the sacks; and none of them has been opened, either." He paused for a moment, and then, with much earnestness of manner, went on: "How am I to thank you, boys? You've done me a service of infinite importance. The loss of that ore almost distracted me: I needed the money so badly. But now, thanks to you, I shall be all right again. You don't know how great a service you have done me. I shan't forget it. We've not always been on the best of terms, I'm sorry to say--my fault, though, my fault entirely--but I should be very glad, if it suits you, to start fresh to-night and begin again as friends."

He was so evidently in earnest, that Joe and I by one impulse shook hands with him and declared that nothing would suit us better.

"And how about the ore, Mr. Yetmore?" I asked. "What will you do now?"

"If you don't mind," he replied, "I should like to drive straight up to Sulphide at once. If you will lend me the mules and wagon, I'll set right off. I'll return them to-morrow."

"Very well," said I. "And you can leave your own horse in the stable, so that whoever brings down the team will have a horse to ride home on."

Yetmore, accordingly, climbed up to the seat and drove off at once, calling back over his shoulder: "Good-night, boys; and thank you again.

I feel ten years younger than I did this morning!"

CHAPTER XVII

THE DRAINING OF THE "FORTY RODS"

As soon as Yetmore was out of sight, Joe and I turned into the house, where we found that Peter, wise man, had gone to bed; an example we speedily followed. But, tired though we were, we could neither of us go to sleep. For a long time we lay talking over the exciting events of the day, and going over the probable consequences, if, as now seemed certain, we had indeed discovered the source of our underground stream.

First and foremost, by diverting it we should dry up the "forty rods"

and render productive a large piece of land which at present was more bane than benefit; we should bring the county road past our door; we should more than double our supply of water for irrigation purposes--a fact which, by itself, would be of immense advantage to us.

At present we had no more than enough water--sometimes hardly enough--to irrigate our crops, but by doubling the supply we could bring into use another hundred acres or more. On either side of our present cultivated area, and only three feet above it, spread the first of the old lake-benches, a fine, level tract of land, capable of growing any crop, but which, for lack of water, we had hitherto utilized only as a dry pasture for our stock. By a test we had once made of a little patch of it, we had found that it was well adapted to the cultivation of wheat; and as I lay there thinking--Joe having by this time departed to the land of dreams--I pictured in my mind the whole area converted into one flourishing wheat-field; I built a castle in the air in the shape of a flour-mill which I ran by power derived from our waterfall; and with a two-ton load of flour I was in imagination driving down to San Remo over the splendid road which traversed the now solid "forty rods," when a light shining in my face disturbed me.

It was the sun pouring in at our east window!

Half-past seven! And we still in bed! Such a thing had not happened to me since that time when, a rebellious infant, I had been kept in bed perforce with a light attack of the measles.

Needless to say, we were up and dressed in next to no time, when, on descending to the kitchen, we found another surprise in store for us.

Peter was gone! He must have been gone some hours, too, for the fire in the range had burned out. He had not deserted us, however, for on the table was a bit of paper upon which he had written, "Back pretty soon.

Wait for me"--a behest we duly obeyed, not knowing what else to do.

About an hour later I heard the trampling of horses outside the front door, and going out, there I saw Peter stiffly descending from the back of our gray pony; while beside him, with a broad grin on his jolly face, stood Tom Connor.

"Why, Tom!" I cried. "What brings you here?"

Tom laughed. "Didn't expect to see me, eh, Phil," said he. "It's Peter's doing. While you two lazy young rascals were snoring away in bed, he started out at four-thirty this morning and rode all the way up to my camp to borrow my tools for you. And when he told me what you wanted 'em for, I decided to come down, too. You did me a good turn in finding the Big Reuben for me--and 'big' is the word for it, Phil, I can tell you--and so I thought I couldn't do less than come down here for a day or two and give you a hand. It's probable I can help you a good bit with your trench-cutting."

"There's no doubt about that, Tom," I replied. "We shall be mighty glad of your help. You can give us a starter, anyhow. But you, Peter, we couldn't think what had become of you. Don't you think it was a bit risky to go galloping about the country with that game leg of yours?"

"I couldn't very well go without it," replied our guest, laughing. "No, I don't think so," he added, more seriously. "It was easy enough, all except the mounting and dismounting. In fact, Phil, I'm so nearly all right again that I should have no excuse to be hanging around here any longer if it were not that I can be of use to you by taking all the ch.o.r.es off your hands, thus leaving you and Joe free to get about your work in the crater."

"That will be a great help," I replied. "Though as to letting you go, Peter, we don't intend to do that, at least till my father and mother get home."

"When _do_ they get home?" asked Tom. "Have you heard from them since they left?"

"Why!" I cried, suddenly remembering the letter Yetmore had brought up from San Remo the previous evening. "I have a letter from my father in my pocket now. I'd forgotten all about it."

Quickly tearing it open, I read it through. It was very short, being written mainly with the object of informing me that he was delayed and would not be home until the afternoon of the following Wednesday. This was Friday.

"Joe!" I shouted; and Joe, who was in the stable, came running at the call. "Joe," I cried, "we have till Wednesday afternoon to turn that stream. Four full days. Tom is going to help us. Peter will take the ch.o.r.es. Can we make it?"

"Good!" cried Joe. "Great! Make it? I should think so. We'll do it if we have to work night and day. My! But this is fine!"

He rubbed his hands in antic.i.p.ation of the task ahead of him. I never did know a fellow who took such delight in tackling a job which had every appearance of being just a little too big for him.

We did not waste any time, you may be sure. Having picked out the necessary tools, we went off at once, taking our dinners with us, and arriving at the foot of the "bubble," we carried up into the crater the drills, hammers and other munitions of war we had brought with us.

"I thought you said there was a driblet of water running out at the crevice," remarked Tom. "I don't see it."

"There was yesterday," I replied, "but it seems to have stopped. I wonder why."

"That's easily accounted for," said Joe. "It was those sacks lying in the channel which backed up the water and made it overflow, and when Long John cleared the course by pulling out the sacks it didn't overflow any more."

"Then it's to Long John you owe this discovery!" cried Tom. "If 'The Wolf' hadn't blocked that channel the water would not have run down to the canon, and the other wolf would not have got his feet wet; and if the other wolf had not got his feet wet, you would never have thought of coming up here."

"That's all true," I a.s.sented. "In fact, you may go further than that and say that if John had not stolen the ore he would not have blocked the channel with it, and we should not have found the spring; if Yetmore had not given John leave to blow up your house, John would not have stolen the ore; if you had not bored a hole in Yetmore's oil-barrel, Yetmore would not have given John leave--it's like the story of 'The House that Jack Built.' And so, after all, it is to you we owe this discovery, Tom."

"Well, that's one way of getting at it," said Tom, laughing. "But, come on! Let's pick out our line and get to work."

"This won't be so much of a job," he remarked, when we had gone over the ground. "You ought to make quick work of it. We'll follow the wet mark left by the overflow, throw all these rocks out of the way, and then pitch in and cut our trench. Come on, now; let's begin at once. Phil, you throw aside all the rocks you can lift; Joe, take the sledge and crack all those too heavy to handle; I'll take the single-hand drill and hammer and put some shots into the big ones. Now, boys, blaze away, and let's see how much of a mark we can make before sunset."