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Digging for Gold

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Drawing from nature,” cried Mr Allfrey with a look of supreme contempt, “what do I care for nature? What have you to do with nature in this nineteenth century? Nature, sir, is only fit for savages. There is nothing natural now-a-days. Why, what do you suppose would become of my ledger and cash-book, my office and business, if I and my clerks raved about nature as you do? A fig for nature!—the less you study it the better. I never do.” This, however, they were not called upon to do, for the travellers turned off to the right, and pursued their way as if nothing had happened. But two of the Indians had been badly hit, perhaps killed, and the thought of this dwelt much on the minds of Frank and his friend Joe all that day. Another thing that distressed them much was the well-known custom of the natives to take their revenge at the first favourable opportunity. It was a rule among them to take two lives of white men for every redskin killed, and they were known not to be particular as to who the whites might be,—sufficient for them that they were of the offending and hated race. The fact that the innocent might thus suffer for the guilty was to them a matter of perfect indifference. She set the money for the drink down on the counter as if that was the end of it. Tom wrung the cloth, clearly disagreeing. "I'm just thinking. He's on the older side of middle age, this new guy, maybe looking for an early retirement. Mr Fell's got a reputation around here, and he might've got wind of it. A wealthy old man, living alone, no family, probably a little too soft for his own good... That’s bound to attract vultures eventually." Frank here interrupted his friend with a hearty laugh, and at the same time declared that he would have nothing to do with the grog and provision store; that he would rather take to porterage than engage in any such enterprise. God help the poor wretches,” murmured Joe Graddy to Frank as they staggered along side by side. “Is our supply nearly out—could we not give them a drop?”

Of course you have, you goose, and you ought to have known that that was a mere bit of conventional humbug, because, since one is constrained unavoidably to live in a world full of monstrous contradictions, it is necessary to fall in with its habits. You ought to know that it is customary to express admiration for a fine view.” The Indian caught it deftly; crash went his powerful teeth into the hard mass, and in an incredibly short time it was—with the pork! Great anxiety was manifested by the diggers on hearing of this separation, because on the safe and speedy arrival of that party they depended almost for their existence, and deep as well as loud were the expressions of disappointment and discontent when they were told that, if all had gone well, they should have been at the gully some days before. The rascals,” he said, “hide a little gold in a claim that is valueless, and, digging it up as you have seen, wash it out in the presence of newcomers, in the hope of taking them in. But here we come to a party who will show you a little of legitimate gold-washing.” Send us the wish-list for wedding presents, won't you? There's a good chap," said an elderly woman in the corner. Crowley wasn't sure who to answer.Soon, however, the diggers had exhausted their queries and returned to their work, leaving the new arrivals to look after their own affairs. This they proceeded to do promptly. This was all that was said at the time, and as it is the only conversation which is certainly known to have taken place between the uncle and nephew during the early youth of the latter, we have ventured, at the risk of being tedious, to give the whole of it.

It was... in a garden. Decades ago," he said, distracted. It was at this point he'd begun to look around, seeing the surreptitious glances being thrown their way from the tables. The barista was blatantly not even making the coffee anymore. They were watching him. He turned on Chloe. "Alright, what's going on? Did someone put you up to this? Who was it, Gabriel? Hastur?" I have none to spare,” replied Rance, “but the settlements of the white men are not far off. Besides, the Indian chief is wise. He does not require to be told that white men come here continually, searching for gold, and that they bring much powder and ball with them. Let gold be offered, and both may be obtained.” The Cornish miner laughed, and, as he walked away, explained to his astonished companions that this was a common dodge. How disgusting!” perhaps exclaims the reader. True, yet not much more disgusting than the gormandising which goes on among too many civilised men, who, besides possessing better knowledge, have got dyspepsia to inform them that they daily act the part of the Californian savage, while many learned doctors, we believe, tell them that it is not so much quality as quantity that kills. H’m!” ejaculated the Cornish man, “will you take a shovelful from the other end of the claim and wash it out?”

Late Sunday morning, she finally managed to wriggle free from her to-do list and visit the shop. She took out her phone, glancing at the screen as she hopped up the steps to the shop door. She frowned, worrying that 47% battery life wouldn't be enough to show him all the clips... So worried, in fact, she didn't notice that the door was already opening. She collided with someone in the doorway. Very well, please yourself,” said Frank, with a laugh; “but if painting is so hopeless, what would you advise?” One night the travellers reached a part of the mountains which was densely covered with wood. As there was no moon, and it was almost impossible to see a step before them, Rance called a halt. We pass over our hero’s long voyage round “the Horn,” and introduce him in a totally new scene and under widely different circumstances—seated near a magnificent tree of which he is making a study, and clad in a white linen coat and pantaloons and a broad-brimmed straw hat.

She bit her lip, pulling up in her driveway. Maybe she was being silly, but everyone knew some horror story about how these things could end. A gullible, good-natured person who happened to have some money, finding a partner who was almost too good to be true... Next comes the gifts, the holidays, maybe even the wedding, often in some spectacular whirlwind romance, until all of a sudden they're found dead at the bottom of the stairs with only one name written into their will. What’s more, there was far more money tied up in the book collection that she even dared to imagine, and if Crowley got rid of Mr Fell, he’d take over everything. He could gut the whole shop and abscond with the profits, maybe even sell off the real estate to some new development just for good measure. It made too much sense. Even if Crowley didn’t get away with the murder, it would make little difference. The damage would be done. Not only would they lose a pillar of the community, they’d lose the essence of him, too. It would be like he’d never been there at all. Decades of memories, lost... She gulped. No, she thought, a fiery maternal urge taking hold. No way was that going to happen to Mr Fell. If this Crowley guy really did love him, he was going to have to prove it. If he didn't, then she wouldn't rest until he was tossed out on his ear. Jine ’em, say I,” replied Joe. “I’m fond of Meyer, and I like the Scotchman too, though he is rather fond of argification; besides, it strikes me that from what we have heard of diggers’ ways, we shall be the better of being a strong party.” All the members of the party were on foot, and, being fresh, full of hope, and eager to reach their destination. They chatted gaily as they marched over the prairie. Meanwhile, another party of seven or eight Indians had gone towards Frank and Joe, and by signs made them to understand that there was something worth shooting on the other side of a cliff not fifty yards off. Our hero and his nautical friend were both of unsuspicious natures, and being much amused by the ludicrous gesticulations of the savages in their efforts to enlighten them, as well as curious to ascertain what it could be that was on the other side of the cliff, they accompanied them in that direction. Aren't you - I don't know, bothered by it?" she said, keeping a close eye on his expression once again. It didn't shift. If he was lying, his tell was more difficult to spot than her teenage son's.

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Aziraphale beamed. "Yes, he is," he said. Chloe looked at him, that endlessly fond smile born from a love affair that had been ageing like a fine wine since time immemorial. Sat on the fringes of that beautiful story, she took a moment to share his happiness. Onwards, men! onwards! The nearest stream is forty miles off. None of those who have water can spare a drop, and death lies in delay. Every man for himself now. Onward, men, for your lives!” Frank was silent for a few minutes as he sat with downcast eyes, absorbed in meditation. Then he looked up suddenly, and said, “Joe, I’ll give you a definite answer to that question to-morrow morning. To-night I will think over it and make arrangements. Meanwhile, let it suffice that I have made up my mind to go to the diggings, and if you remain in the same mind to-morrow, come here all ready for a start.”

His eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Makes sense, I guess," he said, fiddling pensively with the cleaning cloth. That wasn't what he'd been hoping to hear. Eh!” exclaimed Mr Allfrey, with a look of surprise, as if he could not understand the readiness with which his nephew agreed to the proposal, “why, how’s this? I had fully expected you to refuse. Remember, boy, it is not to be a romantic gold-digger, which is another name for a born idiot, that I would send you out to California. It is to be a clerk, a quill-driver. D’you understand?”

I hope not. All the young and strong ones seem to think as you do when they go up; but I have lived here, off an’ on, since the first rush and all I can say is that I have seen a lot more men go up to the diggin’s than ever I saw come down from ’em; and, of those who did return, more were poor than rich, while very few of ’em looked either as stout or as cheerful as they did when passing up.” It’s well, at all events,” interrupted Mr Allfrey, “that you admit the fact of your having neglected it. That gives you some chance of amendment.” Most men out of work rush to the diggings. Indeed, many men are fools enough to leave their work to go there, but I confess that I don’t like the notion. It has always appeared to me such a pitiful thing to see men, who are fit for better things, go grubbing in the mud for gold.”

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