Oliver Bright’s Search

OR

The Mystery of a Mine

BY

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

AUTHOR OF “UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA,” “A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA,” “FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS,” “RICHARD DARE’S VENTURE,” “TO ALASKA FOR GOLD,” ETC., ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

BOSTON: LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

Copyright, 1895,

By THE MERRIAM COMPANY.

Copyright, 1899, by Lee and Shepard.

All Rights Reserved.

Oliver Bright’s Search.

Norwood Press

J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Norwood Mass. U.S.A.

PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION.

“Oliver Bright’s Search,” the second volume of the “Bound to Succeed” Series, relates the adventures of a manly American youth who goes West to locate a mine in which his invalid father owns a large interest. Oliver is just out of school, and has but little experience in travelling, yet he does not hesitate to take the trip to California, by way of the Isthmus of Panama, and thence into the interior on horseback.

Oliver is, in every respect, an up-to-date boy; one who will stand no nonsense when dealing with those who would defraud his father out of his lawful property; yet the boy’s moral principles are of a high order, and he is not unmerciful when the object of his long search has been gained.

It was hoped, when the book was first issued, that the story would stand well beside “Richard Dare’s Venture,” which had preceded it. It has been even more successful than the other volume named, and once more the author must thank the readers and critics who have taken such an interest in what he has written.

In conclusion, the author would say a word in regard to the scenes in the mining districts of California. These were drawn very largely from the narratives of a close and dear relative who spent much time out there, going as an Argonaut of ’49, and to whom the vicinity of Sutter’s Mill and the Mokelumne River became as an open book, not only then but later on. To write down these descriptions was, therefore, not only a work of interest, but of love.

EDWARD STRATEMEYER.

Newark, N.J., April 1, 1899.

[3]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

[5]

OLIVER BRIGHT’S SEARCH.

CHAPTER I. AN UNEXPECTED DISCLOSURE.

“If you please, Master Oliver, your father wishes to see you at once,” said Donald, the man of all work, as he entered the summer-house where Oliver Bright sat poring over a volume of travels.

“What does he want of me?” asked the youth, as he reluctantly closed the book.

“He didn’t say; but he wants you to come at once.”

“Very well, Donald; where is he?”

“In the library.”

Oliver rose to his feet somewhat slowly. He was in no humor just then to face his respected sire. A few words will explain why.

Oliver was afraid he was in for a lecture, and perhaps worse. He was not a boy of bad disposition, but for once the combination of circumstances had led him into serious difficulty.

Oliver was a student at the Rockvale Academy, also catcher for the local baseball nine. Two days before,[6] on the very afternoon that the nine was to play an important game with the club from Elmport, Oliver had been kept in by Dr. Tangus for a supposed fault of which he was not guilty. This had angered Oliver, and as his particular chum, Gus Gregory, was kept in at the same time, the two planned to “get square,” as they termed it.

Their plan of action was simple and harmless enough, but it bore grievous results. Gus proposed to take the doctor’s pet calf from her pasture and lead her into the schoolroom, and Oliver agreed that if this was done he would make the old cow follow.

At dead of night the two boys started to carry out their plan. But both the calf and the cow made such a noise that the doctor’s whole household was aroused, and the two boys had to run for it.

In making their escape Gus Gregory had stumbled over a hothouse bed, smashing a dozen panes of glass or more, thus provoking a shot from the doctor’s hired man, who imagined burglars were around.

When Oliver reached home he found he had quite a severe cut upon his left hand, obtained in his effort to help Gus out of the hotbed frame.

In the morning the wound, despite the fact that he had bathed it in arnica, appeared as bad as ever. But Oliver did not dare to ask permission to remain at[7] home, and so set out for the academy in anything but a cheerful mood.

Gus Gregory met him at the gate with a long-drawn face; and small wonder.

Dr. Tangus had found them out. Gus had dropped his note-book in the hotbed and the gardener had picked it up. In a terrible rage, the doctor soon after called at the Gregory home, and forced a full confession from Gus. Mr. Gregory had promised to pay his full share of the damage done, and to bring his son to account, and the doctor left saying he would call on Oliver’s father later.

When Oliver entered the academy he was at once called aside by the doctor. But little was said; Dr. Tangus merely stating what he had discovered, and declaring his intention to settle the matter outside of the school.

This had happened Friday morning. It was now Saturday, and Oliver firmly believed that the hour of retribution had come. He took all the time possible to walk up the gravel path and through the broad hall, and hesitated several seconds before turning the handle of the library door.

When he entered the room he found his father seated at the desk, his forehead resting on his hand. Mr. Bright was a man well past the middle age of life, and somewhat broken down in health.

[8]

He was tall and slender, with brown hair and eyes. His manner as a general rule was gentle, and as Oliver gazed at his parent, his heart smote him for the trouble he had brought about.

“You sent for me, father,” he said, as he stopped by the door.

Mr. Bright started up from the revery into which he had fallen.

“Yes, Oliver,” he replied. “Come in and sit down. I want to have a talk with you.”

The boy did as requested, taking a chair that stood in the bay-window at the farther end of the room. He could not help but look at his father closely. Surely he did not appear to be much provoked over what had occurred.

“Come closer, Oliver; here, take this chair by my side,” went on Mr. Bright. “I do not wish any one to overhear what I have to say.”

The boy took the seat indicated. Then for the first time he noticed how careworn his father appeared. There were numerous wrinkles upon Mr. Bright’s brow and his eyes were sunken and troubled.

“You are nearly seventeen years old, I believe,” began Mr. Bright after a moment of silence.

“I’ll be seventeen next May,” replied the boy, relieved at being asked such an ordinary question.

“And your term at the academy closes next month, I believe?”

[9]

“Yes, sir; three weeks from yesterday.”

“And when you have finished your course there have you thought of what was to be done next?”

“Why I thought I was to go to college,” said Oliver, somewhat astonished at the question. “Of course you didn’t say I was to go; but all the others were going, and—”

“It was my full intention to have you go, Oliver. But circumstances will make a change necessary. I hate to disappoint you, but I am afraid it cannot be helped.” And Mr. Bright turned away his face.

Oliver’s heart grew cold in an instant. Give up going to college! Give it up after having anticipated it so long, after having talked it over so many times with the other boys! Surely his father intended to punish him too severely altogether.

“Oh, don’t say that, father!” he cried. “I will try to do better in the future! I did not mean to do so wrong! I—I did not stop to think.”

Mr. Bright straightened up and looked at his son curiously.

“What are you talking about, Oliver?” he asked. “I am not finding fault with the way you have conducted yourself at the academy. In fact, I must congratulate you on the general excellence of the reports Dr. Tangus sends in. By the last I see that you stood next to the highest in the class, and that[10] counts for much where there are so many bright boys. I have no doubt that the doctor is proud of you.”

Oliver was completely mystified by this speech. It was evident that his father knew nothing concerning what had taken place. The boy gave an inward groan as he thought of what a change there would be when exposure came.

“Then Dr. Tangus has not been here?” he asked.

“No. What put that in your head?”

“I thought he had come to report me.”

“No; I have not seen the doctor in a month, though I expect him to call soon.” Oliver started. “I have had no reasons to find fault with you for the way in which you conduct yourself. The trouble in this case comes from an entirely different quarter.”

Mr. Bright paused. Oliver noted that there was a slight quiver in his father’s voice. Surely something quite out of the ordinary was wrong.

“You are the only one who is left to me, Oliver,” Mr. Bright continued. “It was always my intention to give you the best education that money can buy, for I know the value of such, and then give you a first-class start in whatever professional pursuit you might choose to enter. But now, my poor boy”—

Mr. Bright broke off short.

“What is the matter, father?” cried Oliver. “Why cannot you do as you intended? I thought sure I[11] would go to college and then, after perhaps a year or so of traveling, I would settle down and become a lawyer—that is, if you thought I was smart enough.”

“That programme would have suited me exactly, Oliver. Your Uncle William was a lawyer, and you take after him a good deal. But now it cannot be thought of.”

“Why?”

“Ah, it is a bitter story, my boy, and I do not see how I can tell it to you. I was very blind and foolish, trusting those that were not worthy of my confidence, and now both of us must suffer for it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And perhaps you never will, quite. I was never of a speculative nature; but this was apparently so easy, and so sure to turn out profitably, that I entered into it without due consideration.”

“It is money-matters, then, father, that makes you say that I must change my plans; must give up thinking of going to college, and all that?” faltered Oliver.

“Yes, Oliver, alas! yes.” Mr. Bright heaved a deep sigh. “I am ruined; I am not worth a dollar in the world!” he added.

“Yes, Oliver, alas! I am ruined.”

[12]

CHAPTER II. THE STORY OF THE AURORA MINE.

Oliver Bright was greatly astonished by his father’s disclosure. There had been nothing said or done heretofore to indicate that Mr. Arthur Bright was on the brink of financial disaster. The two had lived in exceedingly comfortable, if not elegant, style, and the boy was granted every reasonable desire.

“You are ruined?” he repeated, with eyes wide open at the announcement.

“Yes, Oliver, completely ruined. This very roof that shelters us is no longer my own.”

“And is there no hope?”

Mr. Bright shook his head.

“I have hoped, until now; all hope is useless—that is”—and the man paused.

“What, father? What is the chance?” asked the boy eagerly.

“It is hardly worth considering, Oliver, it is so small. We had better face the truth, bitter as it is.”

Oliver drew a long breath. To endure poverty is no pleasant thing, especially when one has once[13] been rich. The boy was so completely taken aback that for a moment he did not say a word.

“I should have spoken of this before and prepared you for its coming,” went on Mr. Bright; “but day after day I trusted that matters would take a better turn and all would be right. I am to blame there.”

“Never mind; you did what you thought was right,” responded Oliver as bravely as he could. “But I wish I had known; I would not have laid so many plans for the future. I might have got ready to go to work instead.”

“I have not yet decided what I shall do when we leave this home. I have been out of active business so long that I suppose it will come hard to resume it again. Perhaps I will go back to the book business, that is, if I can find a suitable opening.”

Oliver looked at his father in dismay. For a man in Mr. Bright’s state of health to go back to active life after a retirement of eight years would be hard indeed.

“I wish I knew something of the book business; I’d sail right in and work for both of us,” he declared with considerable vim. “But I don’t know the first thing about business of any kind,” he added with a sigh.

“You are bright by nature as well as by name,[14] Oliver,” said his father with a faint smile. “I think you will stand a fair chance of making your way.”

“I hope so. Any way, I intend to try. But, father, won’t you tell me something of your affairs?”

“Yes, Oliver; I intend to tell you as much as you can understand. It may prove a useful lesson to you.” Mr. Bright ran his hand over his forehead as if to collect his thoughts. “About a year after I sold out my interest in the Franklin Book Company and settled here, I became acquainted with Colonel Mendix. Do you remember him?”

“Oh, yes. He was a dark, Spanish gentleman, with a heavy black beard.”

“You are right, saving that he was far from being a gentleman, though I did not know that at the time. This Mendix was introduced to me by James Barr, an intimate friend of mine, who was a surveyor and who had become interested in several mining schemes.”

“I remember him also.”

“This Mendix visited me several times, and finally unfolded to me a simple plan for making a fortune on the outlay of a comparatively small sum of money. As you say, he was of Spanish descent, his people coming from some place in South America. He had also a number of relatives among the early settlers in California, who, you know, settled there before the gold fever broke out.”

[15]

“Yes, I have heard of those Spanish settlements.”

“Colonel Mendix said that among these relatives were two old men who had in their possession a paper containing the full directions for reaching and locating a very valuable mine somewhere up among the mountains. These two men were too old to work the mine themselves, and they were willing to sell out their secret and rights for ten thousand dollars, to be paid when the mine was located and found to be as they represented.”

“What was the mine supposed to be worth?” asked Oliver with interest.

“Colonel Mendix placed its value at not less than seventy-five thousand dollars, and said it might be worth several hundred thousand.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t buy the mine himself, without saying anything about it.”

“He said he had not the cash, and he did not wish to apply to any of his Spanish friends for fear they would make inquiries and buy the mine for themselves. Mendix was a very plausible talker, and before I was aware of what I was doing, I had agreed to advance the money, stipulating, however, that James Barr should be the one to locate the mine and determine its value. I had known Barr so long that I felt sure I could trust him.

“Well, the contract was drawn up and signed.[16] By it Mendix was to have a quarter interest in the Aurora Mine, as we had christened it, and James Barr was to have an eighth. The remainder was to be mine. I was to advance the purchasing money as well as the cash to open up the place, either to work it ourselves or place it on the market. Do you follow, Oliver?”

“Easily enough; it’s as plain as day.”

“As soon as this was done, Mendix and Barr set out for California. Two months later I received word that they had obtained the directions and were about setting out for the mine, which was located somewhere back of a place called Sutter’s Mill.

“Four months passed. Then came a long letter from Mendix and a note from Barr. The mine had been found even better than represented, and they wished to close the bargain at once, and asked me to forward a draft for five thousand dollars additional, which they intended to use in purchasing the machinery of an abandoned mine some ten miles distant, and have it transported to the Aurora. The outlook seemed so favorable that I complied without hesitation.

“Another letter came a month later from Mendix, saying the mine had been opened, but that another five thousand dollars would be needed to put in additional machinery for draining the water and crushing the rock. This I also paid, although in order to do[17] it I was compelled to take a mortgage on this place for three thousand.”

“Didn’t you have other money?”

“Only in stocks, and those I did not care to sell as they were then low and I thought they would rise. I found that Dr. Tangus had money to loan, and so I went to him.”

“Dr. Tangus!” cried Oliver, thinking of what was to come.

“Yes. He let me have the money and took a mortgage on this place. The money fell due last week, and yesterday I received a note from the doctor asking for payment.”

Oliver gave a groan. Was it possible his own doings had hurried Dr. Tangus’s actions?

“And you cannot pay him?”

“No. But I am ahead of my story. Time went on and I heard no more from the mine. I wrote to Mendix and to Barr, but received no reply. Then came a draft for four thousand dollars to pay for some more machinery Mendix had ordered. I paid the claim, but immediately sent word not to contract any more debts, as I would not pay them, and demanding an accounting.

“None came, and I sent an agent to San Francisco to find out how matters stood. At the end of two months I received word from this man, Bentwell,[18] and also from Mendix, that the mine had become flooded with water, that it could not be drained, and that in making surveys of the place James Barr had been drowned.

“This news was so disheartening I knew not what to do. I was out twenty-four thousand dollars, and had not a thing to show for it. I was on the point of starting for California myself when a friend of Mendix appeared on the scene.

“This man had been out to the mine, and knew all about it. He said the Aurora was utterly worthless, that Mendix had at last found it so, and that the man had left in disgust for South America. Private creditors had levied upon such machinery as was above ground, and that I might as well give up all hope of ever receiving a dollar out of the thing.

“This news all but prostrated me; for in the meanwhile stocks here in the East were declining rapidly. I kept up as long as I could, but now it is no use to do so longer. As I said before, every dollar is gone.”

Mr. Bright turned away to hide his emotion. The story had been a hard one to tell. Oliver knew not what to say.

At this juncture there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Hanson, the housekeeper, appeared.

“Dr. Tangus is here to see you,” she said to Mr. Bright.

[19]

CHAPTER III. MR. BRIGHT’S RESOLVE.

The announcement that Dr. Tangus had come to see his father filled Oliver Bright with dismay. Considering the story he would have to tell, the doctor’s arrival at any time would have been unpleasant for the boy, but under existing circumstances it was a thing to be dreaded. What would his father think when the whole miserable story came to light?

And yet, if it must be told, he wished that his father should first hear it from his own lips. He knew the doctor could turn the case so that it might look very black indeed.

Therefore, before Mr. Bright had time to tell the housekeeper to show the schoolmaster in, the boy leaned over and whispered,—

“I would like to speak a few words with you before the doctor comes in.”

His father nodded, thinking that his son wished to continue the conversation that had just been interrupted.

“Take the doctor in the parlor, Mrs. Hanson,” he said. “Say I will see him in a moment.”

[20]

Mrs. Hanson at once disappeared. When the two were left alone Mr. Bright looked at Oliver inquiringly.