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Collection: Directories and Documents > Yearbooks
Nevada City High School - The Quill (371.QUI.1910)(1910) (76 pages)
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Page: of 76
16 THE QVILL
prospector regarded it wistfuily for a few minutes, while a small, black
object crept nearer and nearer. As it advanced it lengthened into a
train full of human beings iike himself. He paused, wondering who
they were and where they were going, whether they were happy or
sad, rich or poor, hopeful or anxious.
The passengers, looking idly out, caught sight of this man who
appeared so lonely and forlorn, They thought themselves uncomfortable and i'l treated in the hot car, with the choking air full of sand.
They thought their lot was hard, but his—
“Poor dog.” remarked a commercial traveler to his companion, indicating the prospector with a gesture. “I’m glad I’m not in his
boots.” The other men regarded him carelessly, then returned to their
discussion of mining, railroad service and hotels.
However, the pathetic figure of the prospector caught and held
the attention of some one else on that train. She was a rather elderly, well dressed lady. The trip was very tiresome to her, but the
strange new scenery fascinated her. She was looking out of the window when the train passed the prospector. Realizing his troubles, her
mother heart opened to him.
She had a boy, too, and she thought how he might be traveling the same weary road. Suppose he were all alone, hoping for better luck, working, enduring, with al! against him! Suppose he, were
somewhere on the desert—she knew not where—far from water, from
friends, from her! She was thankful that her boy had not undergone
such toil and suffering, that he had succeeded instead of fai'ed. She
was going to him now. He was a prosperous broker in Goldfield and
had sent for his mother to make a home for him and complete his happiness.
The loneliness of this man broke in upon her happiness. Where
was his mother? Was she old and feeble, needing the care of her
son? Or was she poverty-stricken, waiting hopefully, but anxiously,
for her son to make a lucky strike in far away Nevada? Perhaps his
mother was dead. Better so. She would not have this dread and suspense.
Maybe he was married and had little children. His wife was
keeping up her own courage by cheering the little ones, when they
asked, “Where is papa?” and “When will papa come home?” She told
them papa would come home soon and he would be rich. They woud
leave the cheap flat where she tried so hard to keep respectable. They
would have luxuries. The children would have plenty of fruit, and
she would have a new dress. There would be a big doll for Lucy, with
opening and closing eyes and long lashes, and curly, golden hair. There
would be a drum for Arthur, and awhole box of pretty blocks and a
train of cars. Then, perhaps she would think of something else—but
of course not say it to the children—perhaps he would come — back
with all his money gone, tired, discouraged, in debt! And _ possibly—.