CHAPTER XV
HORACE GREELEY COMES TO TOWN
The Horace Greeley party arrived early the next morning, and breakfastedat the lower end of the gulch before proceeding upon an inspection ofthe diggin's. Their visit was deemed of the utmost importance, for, asPat explained to Terry, they were here to see the gold with their owneyes and handle it with their own fingers, so as to print the truth inthe New York "_Tribyune_."
Sure, whatever Horace Greeley said, the people would believe.
In order to make certain that the report would be a good one, it hadbeen arranged to pilot Mr. Greeley to the richest of the claims, andinvite him to wash from these for himself. Pat's was the lowest down andtherefore the first--and now Pat seemed to think that the reputation ofthe gulch rested on his shoulders.
He had donned a fresh shirt, ahead of time, and evidently had tried toslick up generally. The water had been turned off from the sluice as ifin preparation for a postponed clean-up.
"Take it 'asy," directed Pat, when Terry, having delivered the two piescontracted for, was about to spring into the pit and begin the businessof the day. "Let the sluice be, so His Honor can clane up some o' theriffles by himself. An' we'll jist be loosenin' the dirt a bit here an'yon, for the sake o' keepin' busy an' makin' the place convanyent forhim."
In fact, Pat was so particular in "jist loosenin' the dirt a bit" thatTerry suspected him of not wishing to soil his shirt.
"Well, I'm thinkin' they're comin'," pronounced Pat. "Out o' the pitwith ye an' wash your hands an' face so ye'll be a credit to the gulch.Sure, ye might have put on a clane shirt yourself--but mebbe 'tis betterwan of us looks like a hard worker."
Terry had a notion to retort that probably Harry was wearing the cleanshirt; they had only three shirts for the two of them, and the extraought to go to the cook, of course.
All around, the other miners were unusually busy, so as to impress thegreat Horace Greeley, but they kept an eye directed down the gulch. Nowa party, on muleback, were drawing near. They numbered half a dozen,conducted by John Gregory himself, and a little squad of onlookerstrailed behind.
Occasionally they stopped, to survey operations; Pat, pretending to dig,awaited nervously.
"Mind ye, let me do the talkin'," he cautioned, to Terry. "An' be politeto His Honor, yourself. He's a great man. An' in case Oi ask ye to dig,take your dirt careless loike from the corner beside that white rock,for the rock's a lucky stone."
The party halted at Pat's pit and gazed in, and Pat and Terry, pausingin their show of work, looked up. Besides John Gregory, there were inthe party Green Russell and Mr. Williams, the stage companysuperintendent, and Editor William Byers of the _Rocky Mountain News_,and--yes, Mr. Villard, the Cincinnati reporter.
Terry did not know whether Mr. Villard would remember him, or recognizehim, anyway, in those clothes, which were much worse than when worn inDenver.
"This is one of our promising gulch claims," was saying John Gregory.And--"Good morning to you, Pat," he addressed. "How are things lookingwith you today?"
"Foine, thank ye, John," assured Pat.
"Come out a minute, Pat. Mr. Greeley, I want to make you acquainted withMr. Casey, a leading citizen of the Gulch. And Mr. Richardson--Mr.Casey. And Mr. Villard--Mr. Casey." Pat, who had clambered out, removedhis hat and rather bashfully shook hands.
So that was Horace Greeley, was it; the editor of the New York_Tribune_! He didn't look like an editor of a big paper such as the_Tribune_. Rather, with his square hat and his rosy face surrounded witha fringe of short white whiskers, and his roly-poly figure, as he sathis mule, his legs sticking straight out, he looked more like a churchdeacon or a prosperous "back East" farmer.
Mr. Richardson, who probably was that reporter for the Boston _Journal_,as spoken of by Mr. Villard in Denver, was a tall, wiry man with softhat and full brown beard, and wore a Colt's revolver.
"These gentlemen are out from the East, Pat," continued John Gregory,"to see if it's true that we're all starving hereabouts and that thegold is in our eye. Mebbe you've no objection to their doing a littleinvestigating on their own account down in your hole there."
"Faith, Oi'd be proud if their Honors would touch their fingers to medirt," asserted Pat. "Would they loike to get down in, or shall Oi passa bit up to 'em?"
Mr. Greeley and Mr. Richardson and Mr. Villard dismounted and peeked in.
"About how much are you washing out a day, Pat?" invited Green Russell.
"Oh, a hundred dollars a day, more or less, dependin' on the clane-ups,"answered Pat.
"Upon my word!" exclaimed Mr. Greeley, adjusting a pair of spectacles,the closer to peer. "I was scarcely prepared to find that a fact."
"You're ready to make a clean-up, I see," spoke Mr. Byers. "Suppose youshow Mr. Greeley and these other gentlemen. How long will it take?"
"A matter o' two hours," replied Pat. "But would His Honor loike to trya pan, first? Sure, a pan or two from the pit, an' a couple from theriffles--that's a fair tist."
"Yes, I believe I should like to see the evidences of a pan," declaredMr. Greeley.
"There's no need of His Honor gettin' down in," averred Pat. "It's noplace for the feet of a gintleman. Terry, me lad, pan a spadeful, willye, an' show Mr. Grayley the color so the New York _Tribyune_'ll tellthe world all about it?"
Something in the slant of Pat's eye reminded Terry to dig his dirt frombeside the white rock in the corner; seizing the spade, he did so, anddumped into the pan always handy. The ditch that fed the sluice was onlya few steps from the shallow edge of the pit. Squatting over it, Terrydeftly panned the dirt. No one could have done it better--and the resultcertainly was amazing. Terry handed up the pan, but he scarcely couldbelieve his eyes. Mr. Horace Greeley would require no 'specs to see_that_ color!
"Between two an' thray dollars, Your Honor," assured Pat, as amidstexclamations the remarkable pan was passed about. "Even a boy can getthe rale stuff in these diggin's. Will Your Honor keep the dust for atoken? An' will ye be after tryin' a pan for yourself? Sure, everythingye find is yours."
"You might try a pan from the riffles of the sluice, Mr. Greeley,"suggested Mr. Byers.
"I will." Mr. Greeley promptly rolled up his sleeves, and settled hissquare hat more firmly on his head. "Let me have the pan, if youplease." He carefully scraped the color from the pan and deposited it ina buckskin bag that he carried. "Where shall I take from?"
"Annywhere, annywhere, Your Honor," bade Pat.
"Why not about the middle, Mr. Greeley?" proposed Journalist Richardson."That would be fair."
"Let him alone, gintlemen," urged Pat. "Let His Honor do it all himself.Come out, Terry, lad. Ye'll be gettin' in His Honor's way."
That was not one bit true, because Mr. Greeley would not be anywherenear Terry. However, Terry trudged out, to please the anxious Pat; andnow Mr. Villard hailed him.
"Why--hello, Pike's Peak Limited! I thought that was you. Where's yourpartner, and how are you making it in the mines?" He shook heartily withTerry, in spite of the mud on Terry's clothes--not to speak ofconsiderable on Terry's hand.
"Harry's up at the cabin. We're doing pretty well, thank you," answeredTerry.
"Well, I should rather say you were, if you wash out two and threedollar pans! I was hoping to see you. Mr. Richardson has a message foryou. Richardson, this is one of the partners in that Pike's Peak Limitedoutfit you've inquired about."
"Oh, yes." And Mr. Richardson, the Boston journalist, also shook handswith Terry. "Glad to meet you. Mr. Greeley and I passed some people onour way out by stage. That is, they spent the night near us, at one ofthe stage stations. They asked us, if we saw the Pike's Peak Limitedboys at the diggin's anywhere, to say they were coming. There were twofamilies traveling together. One was Mr. and Mrs. Richards----"
"They're my father and mother!" exclaimed Terry.
"And the other was Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, and a boy and a little girl."
"I know 'em!" cried Terry, excited. "The boy's name is George an
d thegirl's name is Virgie. The Stantons are near neighbors of my folks, inthe Big Blue Valley. Are they near? When'll they get here?"
"Oh, they were some distance out yet," smiled Mr. Richardson. "But theyhad spanking good teams and were pushing right through. They'll----"
"Ha, ha! Watch our old friend Horace! He acts like an expert," laughedMr. Villard.
For Mr. Greeley, after having deliberately selected the packed dirt fromseveral of the riffles at the middle of the sluice, was proceeding towash his pan at the ditch.
"Why, His Honor might have been in the diggin's all his life!" praisedPat. "Sure, isn't he a Californy Forty-niner?"
Mr. Greeley was not so swift in his motions as a skilled prospector, buthe evidently knew the correct method. He dipped, and tilted the pan, andtwirled out the dirt and water; and peered, and dipped and twirledagain.
Each time that he peered he seemed to be more interested, and hissmooth, chubby face grew redder.
"Have you struck it rich, Mr. Greeley?"
"Upon my word!" And straightening, he returned with the pan held closeunder his nose. "Marvelous! If this is gold--and I judge that itis--these are very rich diggings indeed."
They all crowded forward to inspect the pan. The bottom of it wasabsolutely yellow!
"Hurrah for Mr. Greeley!" congratulated the other journalists, and handspatted him roundly on the back.
"Gold!" proclaimed Pat. "Faith, an' if 'tain't a twinty dollar pan I'llate it. Wance I washed out siventeen dollars myself, but never a panlike that from mere a few riffles. Keep it, Your Honor. Would ye liketo try ag'in?"
"Oh, no, no," declined Editor Greeley, considerably flustered as hepainstakingly transferred the flakes and dust to his buckskin sack."This is proof enough. Now I have worked with my own hands and seen theresults with my own eyes--I have the results in my very pocket! Nobodycan gainsay the richness of these new Western mines, and the truth shallbe announced to the world as far as my paper can carry it." He smiledboyishly on Terry. "I beat you, my son, didn't I? Well, well!"
"This is one of the Pike's Peak Limited boys, Mr. Greeley," explainedJournalist Richardson. "You remember a party of emigrants on the trailsent word by us to them, in case we ran across them at Cherry Creek orelsewhere."
"Yes, yes. That is so," and the great Horace Greeley extended his handto Terry. "You must be Terry, then--the son of that Mr. and Mrs.Richards in one of the wagons."
"Yes, sir," answered Terry, wondering how Mr. Greeley could remember."They're my father and mother. The other outfit lived on the next ranchto us in the Big Blue Valley."
"And they had another boy, and a little girl beside," said Mr. Greeley."That's good. I'm glad to see young blood entering this vast new countryof the United States. When I return to New York I think I shall print asa motto: 'Go West, young man; go West.'"
After shaking hands again with Pat, the Horace Greeley party rode on upthe gulch, for further investigations. Pat respectfully watched them;then he clapped on his battered hat and faced Terry with a droll wink.
"B' gorry, that was good wages for an hour's work. Oi'm thinkin' Mr.Grayley'll be wishin' to sell his _Tribyune_ an' dig in the dirt alongwith the rest of us here."
"I should say!" agreed Terry. "Jiminy, this is awful rich ground! Ididn't know there was so much gold in here, did you? We must have openedup a regular layer yesterday."
"Don't ye tell anybody," whispered Pat, "but Oi opened up me oyster-cana bit, an' sprinkled a few pinches jist to make the visit by His Honorthe more interestin'. Sure," continued Pat, "ye wouldn't want a man likethe great Horace Grayley to soil his hands for mere a dollar or two,would ye? An' it's all right. The same gold came out o' here in thefirst place, an' wance Oi tuk siventeen dollars an' fifty cents from asingle pan, myself. He might have done as much without my help, if he'dstruck the proper spot, an' I only made matters 'asy for him. Now he canprint the news with an exclamation point. Well, let's clane up thesluice, an' give back to the oyster-can what's due it an' morebesides."