urrah! hurrah! And true beyond a doubt!
Hurrah! hurrah! Had we not cause to shout?
She turned her wheel, the changeful, fickle witch;
Yes, beyond doubt, we too had "struck it rich!"
The blind lead we had followed many a day,
Suddenly widened to the best of "pay."
'Twas purest carbonates. We had enough,
Thousands were ours in the black, gritty "stuff!"
How did it serve us? You are bound to ask,
How did we take that climax to our task?
'Twas hard to answer. As I said before,
Jo looked at wealth as though he'd force the door.
But when he saw the end so near him lie,
He dazed appeared and heaved a heavy sigh.
Jo seemed as one just woke from sleep, and—well
As though a burden from his shoulders fell.
And unto me it came as a surprise;
We stood and stared with dry and eager eyes.
A pan of dirt we picked and carried where
Our brows could feel a touch of cool, fresh air.
I felt my temples throb, my eyeballs burn,
My blood alternate ice or fire turn;
I well remember how we held our breath,
Talked hushed and low as in a house of death.
And then we shouted—shouted long and loud,
Shouted as though with brazen lungs endowed;
Shouted until each voice was weak and hoarse,
Until the wild bird fluttered in his course;
Shouted until our friends in gray and tan—
Across the rocks the fat ground squirrels ran;
Until, as though he'd like to join the game,
An answering echo from "Old Babel" came.
Nor was that all, I'm half ashamed to tell
The things we did beneath that sudden spell—
For then we danced; yes, danced and danced again,
'Till I from weariness to rest was fain!
Had any seen us they had thought us mad,
And frenzy sure possessed myself and lad,
For I worn out, then Joe he danced alone,
His yellow ringlets to the free winds thrown.
With eyes aglow, all filled with sparkling fire,
He danced as though his limbs would never tire;
In weird fantastic measure and wild tread
He waved the precious dirt around my head;
It seemed one could in his wild antics trace
A likeness to some genie of the place.
A wild delirium o'er our senses came
In which the sunshine looked like silver flame;
The rocks, the flashing wavelets, silver seemed;
Each far-off cloud a silver palace gleamed.
Transmuted all to our excited ken—
Yes, silver, silver; all things silver then!
How suddenly for us the world was changed;
For us who every field of want had ranged,
Who through long months had fought the stubborn rock,
Met summer tempests, borne the winter's shock.
Now the long struggle, the grim fight was o'er,
Privations hard would be our lot no more.
No weary toiling up or down the slope,
Or weary hours in cold and damp to grope.
What figures that strike meant, we hardly knew,
We were among the very lucky few!
Then came reaction—to myself I mean—
For more or less my life had failure been.
What truly, after all, the strike to me!
Such as it was you can at once foresee—
A life of toil replaced by one of ease,
Such things of life as can an old man please.
You see I'd grown to be a sort of sage,
Had weighed full carefully the wants of age.
And can a sudden flood of wealth atone
For years of crabbed single life alone?
With Jo 'twas different. My plans were few,
With him life lay before—so much to do.
'Twere hard to tell what busy thoughts he kept,
What dreams that night came to him as he slept,
What schemes and plans he up-built prodigal—
Of course providing that he slept at all,
And that was doubtful. Perhaps I knew,
Or thought they were the same as those that drew
His feet toward the mossy torrent head,
The same as made him watch for pale light shed,
Toward the ridge from out the mining camp,
And see a message in a far-off lamp:
The same for many a day his brain beset,
For Jo's unuttered thoughts were all of Plet!