very eventful, but there was to be a change.

One day his pick struck something hard. It might be a rock which would
need to be removed. He dug round it patiently, but when he wished to
lift it after it was loosened, he found it necessary to summon Bradley
to his assistance.

"Why, Ben!" exclaimed Bradley, in excitement, "this isn't a rock; it is
a nugget, and a bouncer."

"'A nugget'!" repeated Ben, incredulously.

"Yes; look here!" and Bradley pointed out the indubitable signs of its
value. "Yes, Ben, your fortune has come at last."

"How much is it worth?" demanded Ben, almost breathless with excitement
and exhilaration.

"How much? Three thousand dollars at least."

"Then I can go home."

"Yes, Ben, you're got your pile."

It may as well be stated here that Bradley's guess was not far out of
the way. The nugget, when it reached San Francisco, was found to amount
to three thousand seven hundred dollars.

To the credit of the miners of Golden Gulch, it must be said that all
rejoiced in Ben's success. No one's good luck would have excited so
little envy or jealousy as that of the boy who had worked by their side
for months, and done so much by his good-humor and musical gifts to
cheer up and entertain them. When he was ready to start for the city on
his homeward journey all joined in wishing him a pleasant journey and
the best of luck in the years to come.

Ben was not obliged to travel alone. Bradley decided not only to
accompany him to San Francisco, but to sail to New York in his company.

"I've never seen York," he said, "and I never shall see it if I don't go
now. So, if you don't mind, Ben, I'll go along with you."

"Mind, Jake? There's nothing I shall like better."

While they are on the steamer homeward bound events have transpired in
Ben's old home which require to be noted.

CHAPTER XXXI.

JOB STANTON'S MISTAKE.

There had not been many changes in the little town of Hampton since Ben
left it. It was one of those quiet New England villages where life moves
slowly, and a death or a marriage is an event.

Uncle Job still lived in his plain little cottage with his wife and
daughter, and still plied his humble task as the village cobbler,
essaying sometimes to make shoes when there were none to be repaired.
There was a plat of land belonging to his house rather more than an acre
in extent, but land was cheap in Hampton, and it is doubtful whether
both house and lot would have brought