I grieve to say that Mr.Staples did not look as pleased at the celestial vision as he might have, and poor Mrs.Fraser probably saw that in her child's face which drove other things from her mind.Yet Mr.Staples persisted:--"And who led you to this beautiful mountain? Was it Johnny?""No."
"Who then?"
Florry opened her eyes on the speaker."I fink it was Dod," she said, and closed them again.
But here Dr.Duchesne hurried in, and after a single glance at the child hustled Mr.Staples from the room.For there were grave complications that puzzled him, Florry seemed easier and quieter under his kindly voice and touch, but did not speak again,--and so, slowly sinking, passed away that night in a dreamless sleep.This was followed by a mad panic at Burnt Spring the next day, and Mrs.
Medliker fled with her two girls to Sacramento, leaving Johnny, ostensibly strong and active, to keep house until his father's return.But Mr.Medliker's return was again delayed, and in the epidemic, which had now taken a fast hold of the settlement, Johnny's secret--and indeed the boy himself--was quite forgotten.
It was only on Mr.Medliker's arrival it was known that he had been lying dangerously ill, alone, in the abandoned house.In his strange reticence and firmness of purpose he had kept his sufferings to himself,--as he had his other secret,--and they were revealed only in the wasted, hollow figure that feebly opened the door to his father.
On which intelligence Mr.Staples was, as usual, promptly on the spot with his story of Johnny's secret to the father, and his usual eager questioning to the fast-sinking boy."And now, Johnny," he said, leaning over the bed, "tell us ALL.There is One from whom no secrets are hid.Remember, too, that dear Florry, who is now with the angels, has already confessed."Perhaps it was because Johnny, even at that moment, hated the man;perhaps it was because at that moment he loved and believed in Florry, or perhaps it was only that because at that moment he was nearer the greater Truth than his questioner, but he said, in a husky voice, "You lie!"Staples drew back with a flushed face, but lips that writhed in a pained and still persistent eagerness."But, Johnny, at least tell us where--wh--wow--wow."I am obliged to admit that these undignified accents came from Mr.
Staples' own lips, and were due to the sudden pressure of Mr.
Medliker's arm around his throat.The teamster was irascible and prompt through much mule-driving, and his arm was, from the same reason, strong and sinewy.Mr.Staples felt himself garroted and dragged from the room, and only came to under the stars outside, with the hoarse voice of Mr.Medliker in his ears:--"You're a minister of the gospel, I know, but ef ye say another word to my Johnny, I'll knock the gospel stuffin' out of ye.Ye hear me! I'VE DRIVEN MULES AFORE!"He then strode back into the room."Ye needn't answer, Johnny, he's gone."But so, too, had Johnny, for he never answered the question in this world, nor, please God, was he required to in the next.He lay still and dead.The community was scandalized the next day when Mr.Medliker sent for a minister from Sacramento to officiate at his child's funeral, in place of Mr.Staples, and then the subject was dropped.
But the influence of Johnny's hidden treasure still remained as a superstition in the locality.Prospecting parties were continually made up to discover the unknown claim, but always from evidence and data altogether apocryphal.It was even alleged that a miner had one night seen the little figures of Johnny and Florry walking over the hilltop, hand in hand, but that they had vanished among the stars at the very moment he thought he had discovered their secret.
And then it was forgotten; the prosperous Mr.Medliker, now the proprietor of a stage-coach route, moved away to Sacramento;Medliker's Ranch became a station for changing horses, and, as the new railway in time superseded even that, sank into a blacksmith's shop on the outskirts of the new town of Burnt Spring.And then one day, six years after, news fell as a bolt from the blue!
It was thus recorded in the county paper: "A piece of rare good fortune, involving, it is said, the development of a lead of extraordinary value, has lately fallen to the lot of Mr.John Silsbee, the popular blacksmith, on the site of the old Medliker Ranch.In clearing out the failing water-course known as Burnt Spring, Mr.Silsbee came upon a rich ledge or pocket at the actual source of the spring,--a fissure in the ground a few rods from the road.The present yield has been estimated to be from eight to ten thousand dollars.But the event is considered as one of the most remarkable instances of the vagaries of 'prospecting' ever known, as this valuable 'pot-hole' existed undisturbed for EIGHT YEARS not FIFTY YARDS from the old cabin that was in former times the residence of J.Medliker, Esq., and the station of the Pioneer Stage Company, and was utterly unknown and unsuspected by the previous inhabitants! Verily truth is stranger than fiction!"
