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Updated: June 3, 2025
Elnora arose, recklessly waded through the deep swamp grasses and so reached the path ahead of her mother. Mrs. Comstock followed as far as the garden, but she could not enter the cabin. She busied herself among the vegetables, barely looking up when the back-door screen slammed noisily. Margaret Sinton approached colourless, her eyes so angry that Mrs. Comstock shrank back.
Edward Sinton was a youth of eighteen at the time of which we write, and an orphan. He was tall, strong, broad-shouldered, fair-haired, blue-eyed, Roman-nosed, and gentle as a lamb. This last statement may perhaps appear inconsistent with the fact that, during the whole course of his school-life, he had a pitched battle every week sometimes two or three in the week.
"Sure, if they don't," said Larry, tilting his chair on its hind legs, and calmly blowing a cloud of smoke towards the roof, "it's a losin' game they're playin', for they sarve out the grub at a tearin' pace." "They are doing well, I doubt not," said Ned Sinton; "and they deserve to, for the owner or owners, I don't know how many or few there are made a remarkable and enterprising start."
Captain Bunting and the Chinaman were soon restored to the upper world, happily, unhurt; so, having changed their garments, they went into Ah-wow's tent to discuss the letter. "Let me see it, Larry," said the captain, sitting down on an empty pork cask. Larry handed him the missive, and he read as follows: "San Francisco. "Edward Sinton, Esquire, Little Creek Diggings.
"Yes, I do," answered Elnora. "If you would just fill the pail with water." Mrs. Comstock left the room. Wesley Sinton sat with his back to the window in the west end of the cabin which overlooked the well. A suppressed sound behind him caused him to turn quickly. Then he arose and leaned over Margaret. "She's out there laughing like a blamed monkey!" he whispered indignantly.
Now, see how quick you can clear out of here!" "You won't come and help Maggie with the dress?" For answer Mrs. Comstock looked around swiftly for some object on which to lay her hands. Knowing her temper, Wesley Sinton left with all the haste consistent with dignity. But he did not go home. He crossed a field, and in an hour brought another neighbour who was skilful with her needle.
"Truly," said Ned Sinton, "you seem to live in a golden age in all respects." "Not in all," answered the Scot; "the terrors of the law deter from open violence, but they do not enforce morality, as the language and deportment of miners generally too plainly shew. But here we are at the colony of Little Creek."
"We've not seen the worst of it," remarked the captain, as he resumed his post on the quarter-deck, and brushed the brine from his whiskers; "I fear, too, that she has received some bad thumps from the wreck of the foremast. You'd better go below, Sinton, and put on a topcoat; its no use gettin' wetter than you can help."
That night, as they all sat round their camp-fire, eating supper with a degree of zest known only to those who labour at severe and out-of-door occupation all day, Ned Sinton astonished his companions not a little, by stating his intention to leave them for the purpose of making a tour through the country. "Make a tour!" exclaimed Maxton, in surprise.
She followed the path again, and this time found Elnora sitting on the log. Her face was swollen and discoloured, and her eyes red with crying. She paid no attention to her mother. "Mag Sinton is here," said Mrs. Comstock harshly. "I told her you had changed your mind, but she said you asked her to go with you, and she had nothing to go for herself."
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