CHAPTER XXX.

  A MIDNIGHT VISIT.

  This conversation set Dewey to thinking. Though he was independent,he was not foolishly so, and he was not willing, out of a spirit ofopposition, to expose his new acquaintance to annoyance, perhaps toinjury. He did not care to retain Ki Sing in his employment for anylength of time, and made up his mind to dismiss him early the nextmornng, say, at four o'clock, before the miners had thrown off thechains of sleep.

  He did not anticipate any harm to his Mongolian friend during thenight; but this was because he did not fully understand the feelingof outraged dignity which rankled in the soul of O'Reilly.

  Patrick O'Reilly was like his countrymen in being always ready for afight; but he was unlike them in harboring a sullen love of revenge.In this respect he was more like an Indian.

  He felt that Richard Dewey had got the better of him in the briefcontest, and the fact that he had been worsted in the presence ofhis fellow miners humiliated him. If he could only carry his point,and deprive the Chinaman of his queue after all, the disgrace wouldbe redeemed, and O'Reilly would be himself again.

  "And why shouldn't I?" he said to himself. "The haythen will sleepin Dewey's tent. Why can't I creep up, unbeknownst, in the middle ofthe night, and cut off his pigtail, while he is aslape? Faith, I'dlike to see how he and his friend would look in the morning. I don'tbelave a word of his not bein' allowed to go back to Chiny widoutit. That is an invintion of Dewey."

  The more O'Reilly dwelt upon this idea the more it pleased him. Oncethe pigtail was cut off, the mischief could not be repaired, and hewould have a most suitable and satisfactory revenge.

  Of course, it would not do to make the attempt till Ki Sing and hisprotector were both fast asleep. "All men are children when they areasleep," says an old proverb. That is, all men are as helpless aschildren when their senses are locked in slumber. It would be safer,therefore, to carry out his plan if he could manage to do so withoutawaking the two men.

  O'Reilly determined not to take any one into his confidence. Thiswas prudent, for it was sure to prevent his plan from becomingknown. There was, however, one inconvenience about this, as it wouldprevent him from borrowing the scissors upon which he had relied tocut off the queue. But he had a sharp knife, which he thought wouldanswer the purpose equally well.

  It was rather hard for O'Reilly to keep awake till midnight-theearliest hour which he thought prudent-but the motive which impelledhim was sufficiently strong to induce even this sacrifice.

  So, as the shadows darkened, and the night came on, Patrick O'Reillyforced himself to lie awake, while he waited eagerly for the hour ofmidnight. Meanwhile, Richard Dewey and Ki Sing lay down at nineo'clock and sought refreshment in sleep. Both were fatigued, but itwas the Chinaman who first lost consciousness. Dewey scanned withcuriosity the bland face of his guest, looking childlike andpeaceful, as he lay by his side.

  "I wonder if he is dreaming of his distant home in China," thoughtDewey. "The cares of life do not seem to sit heavy upon him. Thoughhe has been in danger to-day, and may be so still, he yields himselfup trustfully to the repose which he needs. Is it true, I wonder,that cares increase with mental culture? Doubtless, it is true. If Iwere in China, threatened with a loss which would prevent myreturning to my native country, I am sure it would keep me awake.But there can be nothing to fear now."

  Richard raised himself on his elbow, and looked about him. The tentsof the miners were grouped together, within a comparatively smallradius, and on all sides could be heard-it was now past ten-the deepbreathing of men exhausted by the day's toils. This would notordinarily have been the case at so early an hour, for when therewas whisky in the camp, there was often late carousing. It chanced,however, at this time that the stock of liquor was exhausted, and,until a new supply could be obtained from San Francisco, necessityenforced the rule of total abstinence. It would have been well if,for months to come, there could have been the same good reason forabstinence, but, as a matter of fact, the very next day some caskswere brought into camp, much to the delighted and satisfaction ofthe anti-temperance party.

  Finally Dewey fell asleep, but his sleep was a troubled one. He hadunthinkingly reclined upon his back, and this generally brought baddreams. He woke with a start from a dream, in which it seemed to himthat the miners were about to hang Ki Sing from the branch of one ofthe tall trees near-by, when he detected a stealthy step close athand.

  Instantly he was on the alert. Turning his head, he caught sight ofa human figure nearing the tent. A second glance showed him that itwas O'Reilly, with a knife in his hand.

  "Good heavens!" thought Dewey, "does he mean to kill the poorChinaman?"

  A muttered sentence from O'Reilly reassured him on this point.

  "Now, you yeller haythen, I'll cut off your pigtail in spite of thatimpertinent friend of yours--Dick Dewey. I'll show you that anO'Reilly isn't to be interfered wid."

  "So he wants the poor fellow's queue, does he?" said Dewey tohimself. "You're not quite smart enough, Mr. O'Reilly."

  There was no time to lose.

  O'Reilly was already on his knees, with the poor Chinaman'streasured queue in his hand, when he felt himself seized in apowerful grip.

  "What are you about, O'Reilly?" demanded Richard Dewey, in a deep,stern voice.

  O'Reilly uttered a cry, rather of surprise than alarm.

  "What are you about?" repeated Richard Dewey, in a tone ofauthority.

  "I'm goin' to cut off the haythen's pigtail," answered the Irishmandoggedly.

  "What for?"

  "I've said I'd do it, and I'll do it."

  "Well, Mr. O'Reilly, I've said you sha'n't do it, and I mean to keepmy word."

  O'Reilly tried to carry out his intent, but suddenly found himselfflung backward in a position very favorable for studying theposition of the stars.

  "Are you not ashamed to creep up to my tent in the middle of thenight on such an errand as that, Patrick O'Reilly?" demanded Dewey.

  "No, I'm not. Let me up, Dick Dewey, or it'll be the worse for you,"said the intruder wrathfully.

  "Give me your knife, then."

  "I won't. It's my own."

  "The errand on which you come is my warrant for demanding it."

  "I won't give you the knife, but I'll go back," said O'Reilly.

  "That won't do."

  "Don't you go too far, Dick Dewey. I'm your aiqual."

  "No man is my equal who creeps to my tent at the dead of night. Doyou know what the camp will think, O'Eeilly?"

  "And what will they think?"

  "That you came to rob me."

  "Then they'll think a lie!" said O'Reilly, startled, for he knewthat on such a charge he would be liable to be suspended to thenearest tree.

  "If they chose to think so, it would be bad for you."

  "You know it isn't so Dick Dewey," said O'Reilly.

  "I consider your intention quite as bad. You wanted to prevent thispoor Chinaman from ever returning to his native land, though he hadnever injured you in any way. You can't deny it."

  "I don't belave a word of all that rigmarole, Dick Dewey."

  "It makes little difference whether you believe it or not. You haveshown a disposition to injure and annoy Ki Sing, but I have foiledyou. And now," here Dewey's tone became deep and stern, "give me thatknife directly, and go back to your tent, or I'll rouse the camp,and they may form their own conclusions as to what brought youhere."

  O'Reilly felt that Dewey was in earnest, and that he must yield. Hedid so with a bad grace enough and slunk back to his tent, which hedid not leave till morning.

  Early in the morning, Richard Dewey awakened Ki Sing.

  "You had better not stay here, Ki Sing," he said. "There are thosewho would do you mischief. Go into the mountains, and you may findgold. There you will be safe."

  "Melican man velly good-me go," said the Chinaman submissively.

  "Good luck to you, Ki Sing!"

  "Good luckee, Melican man!"

  So the two p
arted, and when morning came to the camp, nothing was tobe seen of the Chinaman.

  Dewey returned O'Reilly's knife, the latter receiving it in sullensilence.

  It was not long afterward that Richard Dewey himself left Murphy'sin search of a richer claim.