CHAPTER VII.

A CONVERSATION OF IMPORTANCE.

Oliver Bright was sure that he was going to hear something of importance, and he determined that not a word of the conversation between Colonel Mendix and Ezra Dodge should escape him. With his eyes fixed upon the circular in his hand, he kept his ears wide open for whatever might be said.

“Yes, about the Aurora mine,” rejoined Ezra Dodge. “I want to know if you have a clear title to it?”

“Why, of course――that is, I and another have.”

“Then that’s all right. I wanted to know what I was loaning money on.”

“Didn’t I give enough other security?” asked the colonel, with a slight sneer in his tones.

“Certainly. If you hadn’t I wouldn’t have loaned you a dollar. Why, I don’t even know where your mine is located, excepting that it is somewhere on the Mokelumne River.”

“Well, whether you know it or not, the mine is there, and that is enough for me.”

“Does it pay?”

“Perhaps it does.”

“Are you working it?”

“Perhaps I am.”

“Oh, pshaw! if you don’t want to say anything about it, tell me so,” cried Ezra Dodge, in evident disgust.

“Well, I don’t. What I want to know is, where can that machinery be bought?”

“Right in San Francisco.”

“You are sure?”

“Positive. If you don’t care to believe me, buy it in New York and have it shipped out.”

“Come, Dodge, don’t get mad. If I want to keep the location of my mine to myself, it ought to be all right. I intend”――

Oliver did not hear any more of the conversation. The clerk in the establishment approached him, and talked stocks so persistently that the boy was glad to escape from the office.

He had, however, overheard several important facts. The mine was located on the Mokelumne River; Mendix did not care to speak of its value, but was evidently investing considerable money in buying machinery, which would tend to show that the claim was worth a good deal.

“How fortunate that I met the man!” thought Oliver. “I wouldn’t have missed this chance for a hundred dollars! And to tell father that he was in South America while he has been in California all the while! On the Mokelumne River. That ought not to be so hard to locate.”

Oliver did not stop to consider that the spot mentioned was many miles in extent, and in a very wild and mountainous region. His mind was filled only with the desire to reach the place, and view with his own eyes his father’s property.

Walking to the opposite side of the street, he stood in the shadow of a doorway and waited for Colonel Mendix to appear. Five minutes passed, and then the man came from Ezra Dodge’s office, walked up Wall Street, and turned down into Broad.

Oliver followed him as best he could, but suddenly Mendix turned another corner, and before the boy could reach the spot the man had disappeared.

In vain Oliver hunted up and down and in the several side streets; Colonel Mendix was nowhere to be seen, and after half an hour’s search Oliver gave up the task.

It was now half-past twelve, and walking about had made Oliver hungry. He moved along until he came to a restaurant, and entering, ordered dinner.

While at the table he was astonished at the bustle and confusion around him. It was true he had been to the metropolis many times, but on every succeeding occasion the city seemed to be more busy, more full of life.

Having eaten his meal, and settled the amount of the check at the desk, Oliver sauntered out upon the street once more. He had a day and a half before him, and hardly knew what to do. He walked up Nassau Street to Park Row, and then turning, drifted with the tide of humanity down Broadway. The knowledge that he was carrying so much cash about worried him, but each time he felt for it he found that his money was still safe in the inside pocket of his vest.

At length Oliver reached the Battery, and sat down on one of the benches that line the promenades. His long walk in the afternoon sun had tired him, and his head was beginning to ache.

The sights around him interested him not a little. Directly opposite to him was a poor women with a sick baby, the little thing fairly gasping for breath. To his right sat a shabby workman, or he might have been a tramp, half asleep, and beside him a tall, gaunt, almost starved looking boy, certainly not much older than himself.

Upon another bench three emigrant Germans were holding an animated conversation in their own tongue, though Oliver occasionally heard the names Chicago and Milwaukee mentioned.

The sick baby interested the boy most of all. His heart ached to see the little one in such misery, and when he saw the mother wipe the tears from her eyes, he hastily rose and walked over to her.

“You seem in distress,” he said kindly. “Can I do anything for you?”

She looked up into his honest, open face.

“My baby is so sick!” she cried. “I would not care if it was myself――but baby”――and she broke down completely.

“You ought to go to a doctor,” he went on.

“Alas! I have no money!” she replied. “I spent the last fifty cents I had yesterday.”

Oliver’s hand went down into his pocket on the instant. He could ill spare the money, but he would have done anything rather than refuse the woman assistance.

“Here is a dollar for you,” he said, holding out that amount. “I wish I could make it more; but that will help you some.”

For an instant the woman stared at him. Then she snatched the silver coin from his hand.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” she cried; “I did not expect it. You are too kind.”

“I would advise you to get medicine for the baby at once.”

“I will, sir; I know something that I think will just cure my poor Ellie. Oh, thank you, sir, and God bless you!”

And with tears of joy streaming down her face the woman hurried away.

A warm feeling surged through Oliver’s heart as he slowly followed, the feeling that always comes when one has done a noble action.

“Poor woman, poor baby,” he murmured to himself. “I hope she gets the medicine and that it cures her Ellie. What a dear baby it was!”

He had hardly gone a dozen steps before he felt a hand upon his shoulder. It was the gaunt-looking boy.

“Will you please help me a little?” he asked pleadingly. “I have been out of work for three weeks and can’t get anything to do anywhere.”

“You are telling the truth?” asked Oliver sharply, to make sure that he was not being deceived.

“Yes, sir. I worked in Haddan’s piano action factory that burnt down.”

“And you cannot get work anywhere?”

“No, sir. Oh, you don’t know how hard I have tried! Every morning I answer the advertisements in the papers, but there are always a hundred men for one place.”

By the way the boy spoke Oliver knew that he told the truth. He hesitated for a moment, and then handed out another dollar.

“There,” he said. “I cannot afford that very well, but I hate to see any one in want. I hope by the time that is gone you will find work. Are you alone in the world?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, if you cannot get work here, I advise you to strike out for some other place.”

“Thank you; I won’t stay in New York much longer.”

Oliver did not reply, and the two separated.

“Cannot find work anywhere,” mused the boy; “it must be hard indeed. What will father and I do if the Aurora mine scheme proves a failure? I would be nearly as badly off as that poor chap. God grant it does not come to that!”