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<title>The Trail Of The Badger, by Sidford F. Hamp.</title>
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<h2>Excerpt from The Trail Of The Badger, by Sidford F. Hamp.</h2>
<h3>As taken from <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43989/43989-h/43989-h.htm">Project Gutenberg</a></h3>
<p>As it was against the rule, laid down by Uncle Tom himself, for any one
to disturb me at my studies, I naturally looked up from my books to
ascertain the cause of the intrusion, when, with a cigar in his mouth
and his hands in his pockets, he came bulging in, half filling the
little room.</p>
<p>That there was something unusual in the wind I felt sure, and my
guardian's first act went far to confirm my suspicion, for, removing one
hand from his pocket, he quietly reached forward and with his finger
tilted my book shut.</p>
<p>"Put 'em away," said he. "You won't need them for a month or more."</p>
<p>As the fall term of school was then in full swing, this declaration was
a good deal of a surprise to me, as any one will suppose, and doubtless
I showed as much in my face.</p>
<p>"I have a scheme in my head, Frank," said he, with a knowing wag of that
member, in reply to my look of inquiry.</p>
<p>"I know <i>that</i>," I replied, laughing; for there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> never was a moment when
Uncle Tom had not a scheme in his head of one sort or another.</p>
<p>"You spider-legged young reptile!" cried he, with perfect good humor,
but at the same time shaking a threatening finger at me. "Don't you dare
to laugh at my schemes; especially this one. For this is a brand-new
idea, and a very important one—to you. I'm leaving to-morrow night for
Colorado."</p>
<p>"Are you?" I cried, a good deal surprised by this sudden announcement.
"When did you decide upon that?"</p>
<p>"To-day. I got a letter this afternoon from my friend, Sam Warren, the
assayer, written from Mosby—if you know where that is."</p>
<p>I shook my head.</p>
<p>"I didn't suppose you did," remarked Uncle Tom. "It is a new mining camp
on one of the spurs of Mescalero Mountain in Colorado, and in the
opinion of Sam Warren—my old schoolmate, you know—it has a great
future before it. So he has written me that if I have the time to spare
I had better come out and take a look at it."</p>
<p>Uncle Tom's business was that of a mining promoter, the middle man
between the prospector and the capitalist, a business in which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> his
ability and his honorable methods had gained for him an enviable
reputation.</p>
<p>"So you have decided to go out, have you?" said I.</p>
<p>"Yes," he replied. "I leave to-morrow evening—and you are coming with
me."</p>
<p>As may be imagined, I opened my eyes pretty widely at this unfolding of
the "brand-new idea."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" I asked.</p>
<p>"Look here, Frank, old chap," said he, seating himself on the edge of
the table and becoming confidential. "You've stuck to your books very
well—if anything, too well. Now, I've had my eye on you ever since the
hot weather last summer, and it strikes me you need a change—you are
too pale and altogether too thin."</p>
<p>Being fat and "comfortable" himself, Uncle Tom was disposed to regard
with pity any one, like myself, whose framework showed through its
covering.</p>
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