They reached the cabin at last, and then a question which Grant was about to ask was answered. The old man lived alone.

The furniture was of the simplest: a bed, a couple of chairs, a table, and a few dishes.

“Is there no one to take care of you?” asked Grant.

“No, I need no one,” was the quick reply. “I have remedies that will soon quiet the pain.”

“I should think you would feel lonely.”

“I prefer solitude to the society of mean, selfish, and designing men,” answered the old man bitterly.

“All men are not mean or selfish.”

“No doubt you are right, but those whom I trusted most have proved so.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Six years.”

“Are you—poor? If so, perhaps I can help you.”

“No, no; poverty is the smallest of my troubles. Look there!” and the old man drew from his pocket a handful of gold pieces. “I have enough to see me through the few years I have yet to live.”

“But you have no occupation—no way to fill up your time?”

“I have a few books and my own thoughts. I will tell you what little is to be told. I came here six years ago, and for a time devoted myself to gold-digging. I was fortunate, and secured all I needed for my modest wants. Then I stopped, for I had no object in accumulating more. But you tell me about yourself. You are young to be in California.”

“Yes, I came to seek my fortune. I was a poor boy, and my mother is unhappily situated. I came to see if I could not improve her lot and my own.”

“What are you doing?”

“I am digging for gold.”gold.”

“Where?”

“At Howe’s Gulch.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“So poorly that I am thinking of giving it up and going elsewhere. In Sacramento I worked in a restaurant, and made a good deal more money than I have made at the mines. I am twenty dollars poorer than when I came here.”

“Are you alone?”

“No, I have a friend with me—a young man whose acquaintance I made in crossing the plains.”

“Is he a true friend—a loyal friend?”

“Yes.”

“Then there are such in the world. Those I have met have been of a different kind. Has he been any more fortunate than yourself?”

“Not since I arrived. He did something before I came, but I must have brought him bad luck, for he has been running behind ever since. We have not been making expenses for the last month.”

“I never thought much of Howe’s Gulch, though some have been fortunate there.”

“Then it was not there that you found your gold?”

“No.”

Grant wanted to ask the old man where it was that his claim was located, but hesitated, not knowing how the question would be received.

“I can direct you to a rich spot,” said the old man, after a pause. “I had intended to let the secret die with me, but you have done me a service——”

“A very slight one,” said Grant modestly.

“Not slight, for without your help I should have been unable to get home.”

“I was glad to serve you, and do not need compensation. You may wish to work the claim yourself.”

“No; my days of labor are over. I am sixty-five, and might easily be taken for ten years older. I shall be glad to contribute to your happiness and success, and that of your friend.”

“Perhaps some one may have discovered and worked the claim.”

“No; it is an out-of-the-way place, and has not attracted attention.”

“How, then, did you discover it?”

“By accident. As to the richness, let this convince you: in less than six months I took out ten thousand dollars, and having no need of more, stopped working, and carefully removed all traces likely to betray the mine’s entrance to a casual observer.”

“It will be a great favor to Tom and myself. We ought to give you a share of the proceeds.”

The old man shook his head.

“I shall not live long enough to spend the money I have,” he answered. “You are welcome to all it will yield you. Come here with your friend to-morrow morning, and I will give you the directions that will enable you to find the claim.”

“Can I do anything more for you before I go?”

“Yes; you may go to the stream behind the cabin and bring me some fresh water.”

Grant did as requested, and, elated by his unexpected good luck, started on his return to Howe’s Gulch.

When Grant reached the cabin jointly occupied by himself and Tom Cooper, he found Tom sitting outside, smoking his pipe.

He looked very thoughtful.

“Have you got rid of your headache, Grant?” he asked.

“Yes; I feel as lively as a cricket.”

“Then your walk has done you good?”

“A great deal of good,” answered Grant; but Tom did not detect the significance hidden in the reply. “How long have you been at home?”

“An hour.”

“Then you knocked off work earlier than usual.”

“Yes,” answered Tom soberly. “To tell the truth, Grant, I’m discouraged. How much do you think our day’s work amounts to?”

“Yours and mine?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“A dollar and seventy-five cents! I think, Grant, we had better inquire the location of the nearest poor house. We may want to ask admission.”

“There’s an old saying, Tom: ‘The darkest hour is just before the day.’”

“How does that apply here?”

“I will tell you. I have secured a claim from which ten thousand dollars was obtained within six months.”

“And then it petered out?”

“No; the owner stopped working it because he had money enough, and was satisfied.”

“Hasn’t it been worked since?”

“No.”

“How much did you agree to pay for it?” asked Tom, in excitement.

“Nothing. It was given me for a service I rendered the owner.”

“This seems like a fairy tale, Grant. What does it mean?”

“I will tell you;” and Grant related his afternoon’s adventure.

“Hurrah! we’re in luck!” exclaimed Tom, rising to his feet and swinging his hat in excitement. “If what you say is true, we’re made men.”

“I am glad you look upon me as a man,” said Grant, smiling.

“I’m only anticipating a little. I hope,” he added anxiously, “the old man won’t reconsider the matter.”

“Not much chance of it. I haven’t known him long, but I am quite sure that he isn’t that kind of a man.”