"Yes, Heman Atkins. But, so far as that goes, father started him toward wealth, I suppose. At least, he was poor enough before the mine was sold.""What are you talkin' about? Heman got his start tradin' over in the South Seas. Sellin' the Kanakas glass beads and calico for pearls and copra--two cupfuls of pearls for every bead. Anyhow, that's the way the yarn goes.""I can't help that. He was just a common sailor who had run away from his ship and was gold mining in California. And when he and his partner struck it rich father borrowed money, headed a company, and bought them out. That mine was the Excelsior, and it's just as productive to-day as it ever was. I rather think Atkins must be very sorry he sold. I suppose, by right, I should be very grateful to your distinguished representative.""Well, I do declare! Sho, sho! Ain't that funny now? He's never said a word about it at home. I don't believe there's a soul in Bayport knows that. We all thought 'twas South Sea tradin' that boosted Heman. And your own dad! I declare, this is a small world!""It's odd father never told you about it. It's one of the old gentleman's pet stories. He came West in 1850, and was running a little shipping store in 'Frisco. He met Atkins and the other young sailor, his partner, before they left their ship. They were in the store, buying various things, and father got to know them pretty well. Then they ran away to the diggings--you simply couldn't keep a crew in those times--and he didn't see them again for a good while. Then they came in one day and showed him specimens from a claim they had back in the mountains. They were mighty good specimens, and what they said about the claim convinced father that they had a valuable property. So he went to see a few well-to-do friends of his, and the outcome was that a party was made up to go and inspect. The young fellows were willing to sell out, for it was a quartz working and they hadn't the money to carry it on.
"The inspection showed that the claim was likely to be even better than they thought, so, after some bargaining, the deal was completed. They sold out for seventy-five thousand dollars, and it was the best trade father ever made. He's so proud of his judgment and foresight in making it that I wonder he never told you the story.""He never did. When was this?"
"In '54. What?"
"I didn't speak. The date seemed kind of familiar to me, that's all. Seem's as if I heard it recent, but I can't remember when.
Seventy-five thousand, hey? Well, that wan't so bad, was it? With that for a nest egg, no wonder Heman's managed to hatch a pretty respectable brood of dollars.""Oh, the whole seventy-five wasn't his, of course. Half belonged to his partner. But the poor devil didn't live to enjoy it. After the articles were signed and before the money was paid over, he was taken sick with a fever and died.""Hey? He died? With a FEVER?"
"Yes. But he left a pretty good legacy to his heirs, didn't he.
For a common sailor--or second mate; I believe that's what he was--thirty-seven thousand five hundred is doing well. It must have come as a big surprise to them. The whole sum was paid to Atkins, who-- What's the matter with you?"Captain Cy was leaning back in his chair. He was as white as the tablecloth.
"Are you ill?" asked the congressman anxiously. "Take some water.
Shall I call--"
The captain waved his hand.
"No, no!" he stammered. "No! I'm all right. Do you--for the Lord's sake tell me this! What was the name of this partner that died?"Mr. Everdean looked curiously at his friend before he answered.
"Sure you're not sick?" he asked. "Well, all right. The partner's name? Why, I've heard it often enough. It's on the deed of sale that father has framed in his room at home. The old gentleman is as proud of that as anything in the house. The name was--was--""For God sakes," cried Captain Cy, "don't say 'twas John Thayer!
'Cause if you do I shan't believe it."
"That's what it was--John Thayer. How did you guess? Did you know him? I remember now that he was another Down Easter, like Atkins."The captain did not answer. He clasped his forehead with both hands and leaned his elbows on the table. Everdean was plainly alarmed.
"I'm going to call a doctor," he began, rising. But Captain Cy waved him back again.
"Set still!" he ordered. "Set still, I tell you! You say the whole seventy-five thousand was paid to Heman, but that John Thayer signed the bill of sale afore he died, as half partner? And your dad's got the original deed and--and--he remembers the whole business?""Yes, he's got the deed--framed. It's on record, too, of course.
Remembers? I should say he did! He'll talk for a week on that subject, if you give him a chance."The captain sprang to his feet. His chair tipped backward and fell to the floor. An obsequious waiter ran to right it, but Captain Cy paid no attention to him.
"Where's my coat?" he demanded. "Where's my coat and hat?""What ails you?" asked Everdean. "Are you going crazy?""Goin' CRAZY? No, no! I'm goin' to California. When's the next train?"
