We did our best to dissuade Jake. He was so handicapped by
illiteracy and by his trusting disposition that he would be an easy prey to
sharpers. Grandmother begged him to stay among kindly, Christian people,
where he was known; but there was no reasoning with him. He wanted to be a
prospector. He thought a silver mine was waiting for him in Colorado.
Jake and Otto served us to the last. They moved us into town, put down the
carpets in our new house, made shelves and cupboards for grandmother's
kitchen, and seemed loath to leave us. But at last they went, without
warning. Those two fellows had been faithful to us through sun and storm,
had given us things that cannot be bought in any market in the world. With
me they had been like older brothers; had restrained their speech and
manners out of care for me, and given me so much good comradeship. Now
they got on the westbound train one morning, in their Sunday clothes, with
their oilcloth valises--and I never saw them again. Months afterward we
got a card from Otto, saying that Jake had been down with mountain fever,
but now they were both working in the Yankee Girl Mine, and were doing
well. I wrote to them at that address, but my letter was returned to me,
`Unclaimed.' After that we never heard from them.
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