Jack Heaton Gold Seeker

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ÒWell glory be! anÕ if it ainÕt Jack Heaton hisself. AnÕ right glad am I to see yuh, Jack. Bill will be mighty glad, too, for heÕs that bugs on goinÕ to South America for them di-am-onds. Sure heÕs been talkinÕ oÕ nothinÕ else these last two weeks gone Saturday. AnÕ how are yuh anyhow, Jack?Ó

It was Mrs. Adams, BillÕs warm-hearted and courageous mother, who had answered the bell and was greeting Jack in this whole-souled fashion.

Since the boys had returned from Mexico and had come into possession of all that money for the services they had rendered the American Consolidated Oil Company, Inc., the Adamses, mother and son, had risen in the world not only figuratively but very literally, for instead of living in a shanty hard by the gas-house under the viaduct which spans Manhattan Street, they had moved into a five room apartment on Claremont AvenueÑand a front apartment overlooking the Hudson River at that. No wonder, then, that Mrs. Adams was emitting her good nature in all directions like rays of radium and that of all persons Jack was an especial target for them.

ÒBillÕs in the parlor, Jack; go right in,Ó she said with emphasis on the parlor, for it was the only one she had ever been the mistress of in all her hardworking life.

ÒWell, Bill, what do you think youÕre doing, getting ready to go after a yegg or rehearsing for a movie?Ó asked Jack as he reached the front room, which by the grace of landlords and popular usage is known as the parlor, where he found his pal engaged in the gentle pastime of snapping a six-gun.

Bill cut short his exercises with the weapon that had seen such hard service in Mexico so recently and he laughed lightly, though no one except his closest friends would have been aware of it.

ÒNary one, Jack, but IÕve had one oÕ them hunch things that you used to get and itÕs the one best bet as how me and you are goinÕ to the wilds oÕ the Amazon and capture some oÕ them chunks oÕ mud similar like and appertaininÕ to the one you wears on your mitt. So I was just limberinÕ up my trigger finger a bit with a little action.Ó

ÒOh, you were, were you,Ó remarked Jack with a mild touch of sarcasm in his voice.

ÒYes, anÕ I was just thinkinÕ about ÕphoninÕ you to find out how soon we could get under way. You see, I havenÕt done a tap to make a dollar since our landfall and owinÕ to the high cost oÕ livinÕÑweÕre over two hundred feet above Manhattan Street nowÑmy pileÕs nosinÕ down like a submarine and itÕll soon be restinÕ on the bottom and weÕll be back where we come from. So IÕm askinÕ you, not only as man to man but as my pal, when do we start?Ó

ÒWe donÕt head that way this time,Ó replied Jack, Òwe head north, with a capital N.Ó

ÒWhadÕa mean we head north?Ó asked Bill in utter amazement.

ÒThatÕs exactly what I came over to see you about, Bill. IÕve had half-a-dozen jobs offered me since we came back but routine work is entirely out of my line so whatÕs the use in wasting someone elseÕs good money and my own good time. No, IÕve tried it and I canÕt be a good man Friday for any business concernÑnot even for my dadÕs.

ÒSo you see you and I are in the same classÑeverything going out and nothing coming in and IÕve been wondering a lot lately what we could scare up that would make a noise like a million dollars. Say Bill, did you ever read Jack LondonÕs ÔCall of the WildÕ?Ó Jack put the question without notice.

ÒÔCall oÕ the WildÕ?Ó mused Bill, turning the phrase over in his dome of thought; ÒIÕve heard all kinds oÕ calls oÕ wild men anÕ wild women but never do I remember any wild call by this blokie Jack London. Who is this guy anyway?Ó

ÒThereÕs no use talking to a fellow like that,Ó thought Jack, but then, as in dozens of other instances in the past, he patiently explained who Jack London was and repeated the tale as told by that past master of fiction, for the benefit of his less well-read pal.

ÒNow the point IÕm driving at is this,Ó he went on. ÒJack London tells us that white men who were prospecting in the land of the Yeehats, a tribe of Indians in the gold country of Alaska, found diggings where there was gold, gold, nothing but gold, I tell you, and they packed it in moosehide sacks so that they could get it back to civilization. Then the Yeehats came upon and killed them and the shining yellow metal fell into their hands. The gold must still be up there, and you canÕt dispute it either.Ó

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