Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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ing friends about this, but don't ye dare tell a stranger. Well. I reckon I’ve got more sense then ter do sech a thing as that! ejaculated Perkins, a little wounded by the reflection on his ability to keep his mouth shut. “I want ye to tell them about it and ask them ter come round tomorrow night about twelve o'clock with pick and shovel.” Well, ye see we couldn’t afford to dig in day time fer that would be liable to rouse suspicions.” Ye’re right. Now I’m goin’ immediately and tell them what you said. iood-byc.” “Good-bye,” ami the men gave each other a hearty handshake. “We’ll be here tomorrow night. shouted Perkins waving his hand from the wagon- “Good-bye. Prother Perkins.” shouted Sims, and then took his place on the bench, yawned and stretched himself, again offering an invitation to the pesky flv to resume his operations. ()n the night of the following day at the specified hour a person passing through that section of the country might have seen men carrying picks and shovels, cautiously creeping through the woods and along the paths leading to the farm of Nat Sims, the great philanthropist, who so kindly bestowed the benefits of his new-found fortune on his brethren and neighbors. (hie by one these treasure seekers entered the gate, knocked upon the door ami in each case they were greeted by the smiling face of Nat. The en tire assembly made themselves comfortable in the parlor and their com er sat ion gave full vent to their eager anticipation. while they were served with apples and cider. “My friends,” said Sims in the midst of the heated conversation, 1 am glad ye have come and know that ye will be well rewarded. Now let’s go to work, friends, and let’s be very quiet so that if any one passes on the road we won’t attract his attention. Yes, better be quiet. reiterated Perkins. Do we need a light? asked one of the gold seekers. No. we better work in the dark. came the reply from Perkins. Quickly the assembly filed out and passed into a sloping piece of ground that la back of the house. Where's the best place to begin?” asked Perkins in behalf of his companions. Now I tell ye. replied Sims. I his pot was found in the middle of the field. Now the best thing ye can do. is ter dig from the four sides to the center and then we ll be sure not ter miss anything. Sims arranged the diggers with the skill of a general and gave the order to commence. Every man on the ground began to work with all the energy and vim he was capable of. There were no passing remarks and rhyming songs, but from the first moment to the last there was only the heavy thud of the pick and the scratching of the shovel. This work continued until the first faint sign of dawn appeared on the horizon. However, there was no disappointment. for no one expected to be so lucky as to find the hidden treasure at the first search. The second night passed as the first, but on the failure of the third search to reveal anything more valuable than rock and red clay, some of the neighbors began to grumble. Mv friends. said Sims. ’ I know that it is hard to work three nights thout finding anything, but there ain’t no doubt 'bout gold being buried here. Nobody says there ain’t, responded Perkins. her that reason. he continued. “I think we better get some more help.” Put then there’d be less gold. Perkins observed. 1 know, but if we can get a half a dozen niggers to help, their pay won't ’mount ter much. That’s right. exclaimed one of the neighbors- Well now. all I ask is that each one of ye bring round with ye tomorrow a nigger, the best on yer farm, but make him promise ter keep it quiet.” All agreed and departed with re newed hope. The following night the crowd was

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Buried Gold Xat Sims was sleeping peacefully under the spreading branches of a gigantic oak. a species of tree very abundant on his farm. His parched but . keen, face wore a smile of content, as he sat there dreaming, no one knows what, perhaps of wheat. But at any rate the dream was sufficiently pleasant to hold him in the thralldom of sleep in spite of an aggravating fly which persisted in using Xat’s bald head as a maneuvering ground. His lanky body swayed back and forth with the regularity of a clock pendulum, his head almost striking the trunk of the tree hut always missing by the same miraculous intervention of fate. 11 is slumber was. however, broken by the loud neighing of a pair of horses attached to a wagon standing on the roadside, passing the corner of the farm. He arose, yawned, and stretched himself as lie saw his neighbor. Bill Perkins, approaching. Well.” said Perkins, have you been enjoying a little nap? A pause and then Perkins resumed. Wa-all. tain't no harm to sleep on a hot day like this. Xo it ain't,” Xat acquiesced with a yawn. Sit down and make yourself at home. The caller accepted the invitation and seated himself on the bench. Xat. he began, vour boy came round this morning and said ye wanted to see me. A cs. was the answer. Bill, 1 have something very important ter tell ye. Now before I begin. I want ye ter promise not ter tell nobody 'bout this unless I tell ye to. 1 promise. All right. Listen. Bill, there's— there’s— he arose and gazed cautiously about the place, there's gold buried on this farm.” Gold. exclaimed William Perkins, who had never come nearer to the actu ality of a gold mine than pictures of the Klondvke region. Real gold? 'A cs. real gold, and lots of it. Piles and piles of it. Is that so! Mow did you know, Xat? How d'ye find it out? Well, I'll tell you. he said, the other day while digging a ditch my pick struck something very hard. I investigated, and what ye think! I found a pot full of gold. Wa-al I declare! ‘A cs. a pot full of gold. But inside this here pot was a note, not written on paper, but on soft leather. I tried my best ter make it out but 1 couldn't-I showed the note round town, but no body could read it until I showed it ter that city feller at the hotel. He said it was Spanish and that it was written by some of them explorers who were through this country a hundred or two hundred years ago. This note said that several hundred pots of treasure were buried by some Spanish general and that the owner would return ter claim it. So 1 took the gold ter the city, and put it in the hank and sold the note to a curio shop. Wa’al, this certain’v is the beaten-est I ever heard. “Yes, it is. But now. Bill, the reason I called ye is this: 1 want to dig fer the gold, but I ain’t got the money to pay for the labor. Xow I can get labor for nothing upon condition that I give them a share of the gold. But instead of giving it ter strangers. 1 might as well give it to mv friends and neighbors. fer whom I’ve alius had the kindest regards. Oh—I understand. Ye want me to come and help dig fer the gold. “That’s it exactly! But I want not only you. but all my neighbors. Man. I want ver ter go 'round, tell-

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augmented by several lusty negroes, eager for work. A little time elapsed when the silence of the night was broken by the voice of Tamer Jones. ‘Water ’ he cried, “and still no gold ! “Joe, did you see dat? whispered Uncle Dan at the same moment. “What?” asked Jim, another of the. darkies. “Dat!” said the black man, pointing toward the cluster of trees at the edge of the farm. “Lawdv! Lawly! Save me! Help! shouted Jim, throwing down his spade. With the speed of a prairie tire the cry was taken up by the other negroes who almost stampeded the white men. The latter turned toward the forest and beheld three white figures with the heads of cows and glaring eyes, crawling straight towards them. Reason left them as well. All was confusion and the sole ambition of each seemed to he to get away from the haunted farm as soon as possible- The next morning the story of the ghosts was the topic of discussion among the people of the surrounding country. Some scoffed while others believed, but Perkins determined to investigate the matter for his own satisfaction. This was the cause of his presence on the veranda of the farm house from which he had so ignobly run the night before. “Ciood morning. said an old gentle- man with a cheerful voice as he answered the knock on the door. “Good morning,” replied Perkins. “Is Mr. Sims in? “Mr. Sims! repeated the stranger. “Oh, are you Mr. Perkins? “Yes, sit , that’s who I am. said Perkins smiling. “Well then, here’s a letter for you. Mr. Sims asked me to deliver it to you.” Perkins took the envelope and whistling a merry tune, opened it. “Well! I be --------he exclaimed. dropped the letter and walked away with bowed head. As Perkins disappeared behind a curve in the mad. the old gentleman picked up the sheet of paper and read: “My dear friend Perkins: I want to thank you and all my neighbors for your kind assistance in digging my pond. Mr. Harrison, the gentleman from the city, who gives you this letter, did not want to buy the farm unless it had a pond. So T just decided that I better dig one: but as labor is kinder high. 1 thought I might get my friends to do the work. The ghosts? Well, they were Jim Carter and Harry White. I ’m going to Montana and hope that if you ever happen to be around that country that you will look for me- Your old friend. Nat Sims.” Ben S. Gross. ’ 11.