Library / Literature & Fiction

Found at Blazing Star
by Bret Harte
- Pages
- about 43
- Category
- Literature & Fiction
- Language
- English
- Reading time
- 48 min at 250 wpm
From the opening
The rain had only ceased with the gray streaks of morning at Blazing
Star, and the settlement awoke to a moral sense of cleanliness, and the
finding of forgotten knives, tin cups, and smaller camp utensils, where
the heavy showers had washed away the debris and dust heaps before the
cabin doors. Indeed, it was recorded in Blazing Star that a fortunate
early riser had once picked up on the highway a solid chunk of gold
quartz which the rain had freed from its incumbering soil, and washed
into immediate and glittering popularity. Possibly this may have been
the reason why early risers in that locality, during the rainy season,
adopted a thoughtful habit of body, and seldom lifted their eyes to the
rifted or india-ink washed skies above them.
"Cass" Beard had risen early that morning, but not with a view to
discovery. A leak in his cabin roof,--quite consistent with his
careless, improvident habits,--had roused him at 4 A. M., with a flooded
"bunk" and wet blankets. The chips from his wood pile refused to kindle
a fire to dry his bed-clothes, and he had recourse to a more provident
neighbor's to supply the deficiency. This was nearly opposite. Mr.
Cassius crossed the highway, and stopped suddenly. Something glittered
in the nearest red pool before him. Gold, surely! But, wonderful to
relate, not an irregular, shapeless fragment of crude ore, fresh from
Nature's crucible, but a bit of jeweler's handicraft in the form of a
plain gold ring. Looking at it more attentively, he saw that it bore the
inscription, "May to Cass."
Like most of his fellow gold-seekers, Cass was superstitious. "Cass!"
His own name! He tried the ring. It fitted his little finger closely. It
was evidently a woman's ring. He looked up and down the highway. No one
was yet stirring. Little pools of water in the red road were beginning
to glitter and grow rosy from the far-flushing east, but there was no
trace of the owner of the shining waif.
A short sample. Read the whole book
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