CHAPTER XXIII
CHEERLESS PROSPECTS
While Jed and his brother were having such exciting times in the West,matters at the Crosby farm were going along in their usual slow fashion.
The first few days after Jed and Will, in company with Gabe Harrison,had departed, Mrs. Crosby and her daughter Nettie were very lonesome.
"It does seem just as if I'd never see my boys again," said the mother,wiping away some tears gathered in her eyes.
"You mustn't think that way, ma," said Nettie. "First thing you knowthey'll come back as rich--well, rich enough to have an automobile,maybe."
"I'm afraid not. I haven't much faith in this gold-mining scheme, thoughI believe Mr. Harrison meant all right. I wish the boys had stuck tofarming."
"But, mother, they could hardly make a living at it. Look at father, howhard he has to work, and how little we can save."
"I know it, but it's sure. We have our hens, and we get some eggs. Wecan go out in the garden and dig potatoes, and we have fruit."
"Yes, but we can't live on eggs, potatoes and fruit," objected Nettiewith a laugh. "Now, don't worry, mother. I'm sure the boys will make outall right, though it may take some time. It will be a month before theyare in the gold region. I hope they send me some souvenir postals."
"Do they have souvenir postals out in the mines?"
"I guess so, mother. They have 'em most every place, and I've got quitea collection."
Mrs. Crosby eagerly watched the mails for the next few days, and she wasrewarded by receiving brief notes from the boys, written on their route,telling of the incidents of the way.
As for Mr. Crosby, he was so busy preparing for winter and arranging topay the interest on the mortgage, that he gave little thought, at first,to the two young gold miners. Of course, he was interested in them, andhe hoped for their success, but he was worried about how he would getalong without their help on the farm, though most of the fall work wasdone.
The money received from the barley crop, together with some from thesale of other farm products, was, after part had been taken out for theboys' outfits, placed in the bank at Rossmore, which was the nearestlarge town to Lockport. Mr. Crosby wanted to keep the cash there untilhe had enough to meet the payment of interest on the mortgage, whichwould be due in a few weeks.
He had not quite enough, and he did not see how he was going to completethe sum in time, but he trusted the man who held the mortgage would waitfor the balance. He determined, however, to make it up if he could, and,for that reason, he was busier than usual, gathering in all the productshe could afford to sell off.
"You look worried, Enos," remarked Mrs. Crosby one evening, when herhusband came in from the village. "Has anything happened?"
"Nothing special. I saw Jimson this afternoon."
"The man who holds the mortgage on this place?"
"Yes. I told him I was afraid I'd be a few dollars short in theinterest, and I asked him if he'd wait a few weeks."
"What did he say?"
"He said he wouldn't. Told me I had to have it all or he'd foreclose."
"And take the farm away from us?"
"That's what it would mean. He's been wanting it ever since he heardwhat a fine barley crop I raised."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know. I've tried my best to get the whole sum together, but Idon't see how I can rake up another dollar. We have to live, and I can'ttouch the money I have put away for winter."
"Maybe we could get along on less than usual," suggested Mrs. Crosby.
"No, it's little enough as it is. I've calculated very closely, and thesum I have saved for winter is barely enough as it is. If anythinghappens, or one of us gets sick, there'll not be enough. I was thinkingI might get something to do in the village, or over in Rossmore, but Ican't leave you and Nettie here alone to look after the farm. I mightsell the horse, but it would not bring much now. Nobody wants to keep ahorse through the winter. I declare, I don't know what to do. Prospectsare pretty dismal."
"If we had the boys home now, maybe they could get work somewhere, andhelp out."
"No, on the whole I'm glad the boys have gone out West. Their goldhunting may not amount to much--likely it won't--but it will be a goodthing for them. They needed a little change from the drudgery of alwaysworking on a farm. Of course, if they were here they'd help, but they'renot, and I'll not wish them back before they've had a fair chance,though I'd like to see them, for I miss them considerably."
"So do I," added his wife.
"And I wish they were home," added Nettie. "I haven't had a good game ofcheckers since Will went away."
"I reckon they've got other things besides checkers to think about now,"said her father.
Two or three weeks passed. Mr. Crosby did his best to raise theadditional money needed toward the interest on the mortgage, and as alast resort he had to sell his mowing machine. How he would get alongthe following summer, without it, he did not know, but he hoped bettertimes would come. At any rate it was imperative that he have theinterest, or he might lose his farm.
It was coming on cool weather. The last of the crops had been gatheredin, though in this work the farmer sadly missed the help of his twosturdy boys.
One frosty morning, he got up early to go out and feed the pigs, onwhich he depended for his own pork, and which he hoped he would haveenough of to sell at a profit. There was a curious silence in the pen,for, usually, the porkers were squealing from the first show of daylightuntil they received their breakfast.
"That's rather queer," said Mr. Crosby to himself, as he neared thepig-pen, with a pail of warm sour milk, which the porkers usually gotfirst. "I wonder why they aren't squealing their heads off as theyalways are?"
When he got to the pen he saw the cause for the silence. Stretched outon the ground were six fine pigs, all dead.
"Well, if this isn't hard luck!" exclaimed the farmer, setting down thepail he had carried out. "And I counted on them to help us through thewinter!"
He got over into the pen. There was no doubt about it. The pigs weredead, and valueless, as far as any use he could make of them wasconcerned.
He called in a neighbor, who knew something of animals, and this mansaid the pigs had probably eaten something that had not agreed withthem, as there were no signs that they had been hurt. This view wasgenerally accepted, when it became known what misfortune had visited Mr.Crosby, though no one could tell what had caused the death of theanimals.
"Another heavy loss," mused Mr. Crosby that afternoon, as he got up fromthe dinner table. "I declare, I don't know what's going to happen! I'vegot the interest money, but I'm afraid I'll have to use part of that tolive on, now that we won't have any pork to put away for the winter."
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby, "troubles never come singly! Wecertainly are in hard luck, Enos."
"That's right," he admitted gloomily. "I don't know what to do. Butthere, Debby," he added, as he saw how badly his wife felt. "We'll makeout somehow. We always have. I can let the interest go, and we can sellout the farm."
"No, don't do that," exclaimed his wife quickly. "We must hold on tothat. It's the only way we can make a living. I don't know anythingexcept farming, and you don't either."
"That's right, unless I could learn gold mining," admitted Mr. Crosbywith a sad smile. "But we'll get along somehow."
How he didn't know, but he knew he must not let his wife worry, as shewas not strong, and had only recently gotten over a severe illness.
"Maybe I could help you, papa," spoke Nettie, who had listened with someworriment to the talk of her parents.
"You, my dear girl? How could you help us?"
"Why, I hear they want girls to work at the machines in the mill over atRossmore."
"I'll never consent to let you go there," said her father. "We'll sellthe farm first. Not that there's anything wrong about a girl working ina mill, but I want you to get a good education. No, Nettie, I'll find away, somehow."
"Whoa!" exclaimed
a voice out in the driveway, and, looking out, thefarmer saw a man in a carriage.
"Are you there, Mr. Crosby?" the man called.
"Oh, yes! How d'ye do, Mr. Jimson?" replied the farmer, as he recognizedthe man who held the mortgage on the farm. "I see you've come for theinterest."
"Yes. I hope you have it ready."
"Yes, it's all together. But I guess I'll have to ask you to drive meover to the bank in Rossmore. My pigs all died this morning, and I wasso put out I didn't get a chance to go over. The money's there in thebank."
"Is your interest money in the bank at Rossmore?" asked Mr. Jimson, in acurious voice.
"Yes. Why?"
"That bank failed yesterday," was the startling answer. "The depositorswon't get a cent!"