The Little Gold Miners of the 
Sierras and
by Various 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Gold Miners of the Sierras 
and 
Other Stories, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone 
anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You 
may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project 
Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
www.gutenberg.net 
Title: The Little Gold Miners of the Sierras and Other Stories 
Author: Various 
Release Date: May 5, 2007 [EBook #21340] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE 
LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF *** 
 
Produced by Taavi Kalju, Janet Blenkinship and the Online Distributed 
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced 
from images generously made available by The Internet 
Archive/American Libraries.)
THE LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF THE SIERRAS 
BY 
JOAQUIN MILLER 
AND OTHER STORIES 
FULLY ILLUSTRATED 
[Illustration: "COLOR! TWO COLORS! THREE, FOUR, FIVE--A 
DOZEN!"] 
BOSTON D. LOTHROP & COMPANY FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY 
STREETS 
Copyright, 1886, by D. LOTHROP & COMPANY. 
 
CONTENTS. 
PAGE. 
I. THE LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF THE SIERRAS. 7 Joaquin 
Miller. 
II. A MODERN HERO. 23 Marion Harland. 
III. BENNY'S WIGWAM. 44 Mary Catherine Lee. 
IV. BENNY'S DISAPPEARANCE. 63 Mary Catherine Lee. 
V. HOW TWO SCHOOLBOYS KILLED A BEAR. 86 H. F. Marsh. 
VI. PETE'S PRINTING PRESS. 94 Kate Gannett Wells. 
VII. AUNT ELIZABETH'S FENCE. 119 George H. Hebard.
VIII. THE BUTTON BOY. 138 A. M. Griffin. 
IX. DAN HARDY'S CRIPPY. 156 James Otis. 
X. HIS THREE TRIALS. 185 Kate Gannett Wells. 
XI. IN THE SECOND DORMITORY. 211 John Preston True. 
XII. THE DOUGHNUT BAIT. 232 George Varney. 
XIII. A REAL HAPPENING. 239 Mary B. Claflin. 
 
THE LITTLE GOLD MINERS OF THE SIERRAS. 
Their mother had died crossing the plains, and their father had had a leg 
broken by a wagon wheel passing over it as they descended the Sierras, 
and he was for a long time after reaching the mines miserable, lame and 
poor. 
The eldest boy, Jim Keene, as I remember him, was a bright little 
fellow, but wild as an Indian and full of mischief. The next eldest child, 
Madge, was a girl of ten, her father's favorite, and she was wild enough 
too. The youngest was Stumps. Poor, timid, starved Little Stumps! I 
never knew his real name. But he was the baby, and hardly yet out of 
petticoats. And he was very short in the legs, very short in the body, 
very short in the arms and neck; and so he was called Stumps because 
he looked it. In fact he seemed to have stopped growing entirely. Oh, 
you don't know how hard the old Plains were on everybody, when we 
crossed them in ox-wagons, and it took more than half a year to make 
the journey. The little children, those that did not die, turned brown like 
the Indians, in that long, dreadful journey of seven months, and stopped 
growing for a time. 
For the first month or two after reaching the Sierras, old Mr. Keene 
limped about among the mines trying to learn the mystery of finding 
gold, and the art of digging. But at last, having grown strong enough, 
he went to work for wages, to get bread for his half-wild little ones, for
they were destitute indeed. 
Things seemed to move on well, then. Madge cooked the simple meals, 
and Little Stumps clung to her dress with his little pinched brown hand 
wherever she went, while Jim whooped it over the hills and chased 
jack-rabbits as if he were a greyhound. He would climb trees, too, like 
a squirrel. And, oh!--it was deplorable--but how he could swear! 
At length some of the miners, seeing the boy must come to some bad 
end if not taken care of, put their heads and their pockets together and 
sent the children to school. This school was a mile away over the 
beautiful brown hills, a long, pleasant walk under the green California 
oaks. 
Well, Jim would take the little tin dinner bucket, and his slate, and all 
their books under his arm and go booming ahead about half a mile in 
advance, while Madge with brown Little Stumps clinging to her side 
like a burr, would come stepping along the trail under the oak-trees as 
fast as she could after him. 
But if a jack-rabbit, or a deer, or a fox crossed Jim's path, no matter 
how late it was, or how the teacher had threatened him, he would drop 
books, lunch, slate and all, and spitting on his hands and rolling up his 
sleeves, would bound away after it, yelling like a wild Indian. And 
some days, so fascinating was the chase, Jim did not appear at the 
schoolhouse at all; and of course    
    
		
	
	
	Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
 
	 	
	
	
	    Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the 
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.
	    
	    
