CHAPTER XXXIV.

CONCLUSION.

“Too bad! I thought there would surely be some word from Oliver to-day.”

It was Mr. Bright who spoke. He sat in an invalid chair on the side porch, propped up by soft pillows. Donald, the man of all work, had just returned from the post-office with the information that there were no letters.

Mr. Bright was getting well rapidly, but the lines of care were plainly to be seen upon his brow. He started up with a deep sigh.

“Nearly two weeks since I received any word,” he murmured to himself. “How slowly the time drags! Can it be possible that he was too hopeful and that the Aurora has proved worthless after all?”

He passed his hand over his brow.

“If that is so what is to become of us? I am getting too old to work, and he has no trade to which he can turn his hand.”

As he concluded, the latch on the gate was lifted, and, looking up, the sick man saw Dr. Tangus enter the yard, and walk up the gravel path.

“Good-morning, Mr. Bright,” he said stiffly.

“Good-morning, doctor,” was the low reply. “Take a seat on the bench. I am sorry there is not a chair here.”

“This will do very well.” The learned man paused for a moment. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Much better, thank you. Another week and I think I will be all right.”

“I am glad to hear it. I suppose you know the purpose of my visit to-day.”

“You are after the payment of that money.”

“Yes. You know it was due yesterday.”

“I know it was. But cannot you wait a few days longer? I am expecting word from my son by every mail or by telegraph.”

“Concerning that mining scheme you mentioned?”

“Yes.”

Dr. Tangus tossed his head.

“I don’t believe that amounts to much,” he said. “You are altogether too sanguine about it.”

“My son Oliver――”

“That boy isn’t as smart as you think he is. His going off on a wild-goose chase――”

“It was no wild-goose chase, doctor.”

“I think it was. But, of course, that is none of my business. All I ask is that you pay the money due.”

“I cannot do that just at present.”

“Then I will have to put the case in my lawyer’s hands――”

“At once?”

“At once.”

Mr. Bright felt a deep pang shoot through his heart. His pecuniary difficulties were to be dragged before the public at last.

“Well, if you must,” he began slowly. Then he stopped short and half rose from his chair. That figure hurrying so swiftly down the road towards the house seemed strangely familiar. Was it――could it be――“Oliver!” he cried out, “Oliver, my boy!”

“Yes, father, home again!” was the glad response; and a moment later father and son were in each other’s arms.

“I did not write or telegraph because I wanted to surprise you,” said the boy. “How do you feel?” And then, noticing Dr. Tangus, “Excuse me, Doctor, I did not see you before. How do you do?” and he held out his hand.

Dr. Tangus took it coldly.

“So you are back from your wild trip,” he remarked.

“Yes, sir; and glad of it.”

“Dr. Tangus has just called for his money,” put in Mr. Bright. “He says he must be paid at once or he will go to law. Tell me the worst, my boy.”

“There is no worst to tell,” replied Oliver. “Dr. Tangus shall be paid whenever he wishes the money. The Aurora mine has been located, and is to-day worth one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.”

“Oliver!”

“It is true, father, every word of it. Here are the papers to prove the fact.” And the boy drew from his pocket a large envelope and handed it over.

“And your father owns an interest in this mine?” asked Dr. Tangus. He felt mighty cheap.

“My father owns five-eighths of it. Of the other three-eighths, one part belongs to the estate of one James Barr, and the other two to Mr. Whyland of Boston, who has very kindly loaned us his check for three thousand dollars to help my father out of his difficulties;” and Oliver passed the check over for inspection.

“Seems straight enough,” grunted the doctor. “I will call again to-morrow. I have no more time to spare to-day;” and catching up his hat, he left without another word.

“Oliver, you have saved us from ruin!” cried Mr. Bright with tears in his eyes. “But for you it would have gone hard indeed with us.”

“I am glad the search has ended so well,” said the boy; “glad for your sake, and glad for my own.”

* * * * *

Several years have passed. Oliver is now at college, and has for a room-mate Gus Gregory, who is as stout and as full of good-humor as ever.

The Aurora mine is in active operation, managed by competent and trustworthy men. James Barr’s interest was purchased by Mr. Whyland, and the money went to support the surveyor’s aged mother, his only known relative.

The Spaniard, known to the reader as Colonel Mendix, is now in prison, suffering the full penalty of the law. Let us trust that when he comes forth once more it will be with the determination to lead a better life in the future.

Mr. Bright still lives at his old home, surrounded with all the ease and comfort that money can procure. Of Oliver he never tires of talking.

“One boy in a thousand,” he says. “Thank God for giving me such a son in my old age!”

And with these words let us say good-by.

THE END.

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