Читать книгу Hard-Pan. A Story of Bonanza Fortunes онлайн

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The colonel looked into the younger man’s face quite unembarrassed, his old countenance still preserving its expression of debonair self-satisfaction. The money in his hand, he gave it a slight clink, and then dropped it into a worn leather purse with a clasp that snapped, and said gaily:

“This is the best medicine for low spirits. Not that mine are low—no, sir; it takes more than a temporary shortness of funds to knock out a pioneer of ’49. Whether it’s champagne or beer or water, there’s no difference when it comes to quenching your thirst, and at my age that’s all you want to drink for.”

“You’re a better philosopher than most of the pioneers,” said Gault, feeling the embarrassment that the old man seemed so complacently free from.

“Philosopher!” said the other, rising. “Why, my dear boy, I could found a school of philosophy—only where would the pupils come from? No, no; philosophy wouldn’t pay in California; too much blue sky and sunshine here. Well, when are we going to see you again? Soon—don’t forget that. Viola and I haven’t many friends—just an odd one, like yourself, here and there. Viola doesn’t go much on society, and so we let the old crowd drop; and we’re not sorry, not sorry—too many tares in the wheat. What old Solomon said about a dinner of herbs and good company being better than a stalled ox in a wide house with a brawling woman—wasn’t that it?—was right. He was a great old chap, Solomon! Brains and experience—that’s a combination that’s hard to beat.”