CHAPTER XX.
ST. JOE.
St. Joe was at that time the fitting-out point for overland partiesbound for California. As a matter of course it presented a busy,bustling appearance, and seemed full of life and movement. There was alarge transient population, of a very miscellaneous character. Itincluded the thrifty, industrious emigrant, prepared to work hard andlive poorly, till the hoped-for competence was attained; but there wasalso the shiftless adventurer, whose chief object was to live withoutwork, and the unscrupulous swindler, who was ready, if opportunityoffered, to appropriate the hard earnings of others.
"It's a lively place, Mr. Ferguson," said Tom.
"It is, indeed, my young friend," said the cautious Scot; "but it is aplace, to my thinking, where it behooves a man to look well to hispurse."
"No doubt you are right, Mr. Ferguson. I have learned to be cautioussince my adventure with Graham and Vincent."
"There's many like them in the world, Tom. They are like lions, goingabout seeking whom they may devour."
St. Joseph could not at that time boast any first-class hotels. Inns andlodging-houses it had in plenty. At one of these--a two-story building,dignified by the title of "The Pacific Hotel"--our hero and his Scotchfriend found accommodations. They were charged two dollars and a halfper day--the same price they charged at first-class hotels in New Yorkand Boston, while their rooms and fare were very far from luxurious. Thelandlord was a stout, jolly host, with a round, good-natured face.
"You and your son will room together, I suppose," he said.
"He isn't my son, but a young friend of mine," said Mr. Ferguson.
"I thought he didn't look much like you," said the landlord.
"I am hard and weather-beaten, while he is young and fresh."
"Well, gentlemen, I wish you both good luck. What will you take? I havea superior article of whisky that I can recommend."
"Thank you, but I beg you will excuse me, sir," said Ferguson. "I neverdrink."
"Nor I," said Tom; "but I am much obliged to you all the same."
"Well, that beats me," said the landlord. "Why, you don't know what'sgood. You ain't a minister, are you?" turning to Ferguson.
"I have not that high distinction, my friend. I am an unworthy member ofthe church of Scotland."
"I don't think your countrymen generally refuse whisky."
"So much the worse for them. They are only too fond of it. My ownbrother died a miserable death, brought on by his love of liquor."
"Then I won't press you; but I say, strangers, you won't find many ofyour way of thinking in the country you're going to."
"I don't doubt he's right, Tom," said Ferguson to Tom, as they enteredthe chamber assigned to them. "We may not be together always. I hope youwon't be led away by them that offer you strong drink. It would be theruin of you, boy."
"Don't fear for me, Mr. Ferguson. I have no taste for it."
"Sometimes it's hard to refuse."
"It won't be hard for me."
"I am glad to hear you say that, my lad. You are young, strong, andindustrious. You'll succeed, I'll warrant, if you steer clear of thatquicksand."
Later in the day the two friends began to make inquiries about overlandtravel. They had no wish to remain long at St. Joe. Both were impatientto reach the land of gold, and neither cared to incur the expense ofliving at the hotel any longer than was absolutely necessary. Luckilythis probably would not be long, for nearly every day a caravan set outon the long journey, and doubtless they would be able to join onagreeing to pay their share of the expenses. It was a great undertaking,for the distance to be traversed was over two thousand miles, through anunsettled country, some of it a desert, with the chances of an attack byhostile Indians, and the certainty of weeks, and perhaps months, ofprivation and fatigue. Mr. Donald Ferguson looked forward to it withsome apprehension; for, with characteristic Scotch caution, he countedthe cost of whatever he undertook, and did not fail to set before hismind all the contingencies and dangers attending it.
"It's a long journey we're going on, my lad," he said, "and we may notreach the end of it in safety."
"It isn't best to worry about that, Mr. Ferguson," said Tom cheerfully.
"You are right, my lad. It's not for the best to worry, but it is wellto make provision for what may happen. Now, if anything happens to me, Iam minded to make you my executor."
"But don't you think I am too young, Mr. Ferguson?"
"You are o'er young, I grant, but you are a lad of good parts,temperate, steady, and honest. I have no other friend I feel liketrusting."
"I hope, Mr. Ferguson, there will be no occasion to render you any suchservice, but whatever I can I will do."
"It will be very simple. You will take my money, and see that it is sentto my mother, in Glasgow. I will give you her address now, and then, ifany sudden fate overtakes me, there will be no trouble. You will knowjust what to do."
Tom was flattered by this mark of confidence. It was evident that thecautious Scotchman had formed a very favorable opinion of him, or hewould not have selected so young a boy for so important a trust.
"Will you do the same for me, Mr. Ferguson?" he asked, with the suddenreflection that, young as he was, there was no absolute certainty of hisliving to reach California.
"Surely I will, my lad."
"If I should die I should want any money I might have left sent to myfather."
"Give me his address, my lad, and it shall be done. It is a goodprecaution, and we shan't either of us die the sooner for doing ourduty, to the best of our ability, by those who would mourn our loss."
Tom and his friend instituted inquiries, and ascertained that two dayslater a caravan was to start on its way across the continent. Theyascertained, also, that the leader of the expedition was a pioneer namedFletcher, who was making his home at the California Hotel. They madetheir way thither, and were fortunate enough to find Mr. Fletcher athome. He was a stout, broad-shouldered man, a practical farmer, who wasemigrating from Illinois. Unlike the majority of emigrants, he had hisfamily with him, namely, a wife, and four children, the oldest a boy oftwelve.
"My friend," said Ferguson, "I hear that you are soon leaving here witha party for California."
"I leave day after to-morrow," answered Fletcher.
"Is your party wholly made up?"
"We are about full; but we might receive one or two more."
"My young friend and I wish to join some good party, as we cannot affordto remain here, and we are anxious to get to work as soon as possible."
Some care needed to be exercised in the choice of a party, as there weresome who would only give trouble and annoyance, or perhaps fail to paytheir proper share of the expenses. But Ferguson's appearance wassufficient guarantee of his reliability, and no one was likely to objectto Tom.
"Of course," added Ferguson, "we are ready to bear our share of theexpense."
"Then you can come," said Fletcher. "You will both need revolvers, forwe may be attacked by Indians, and must be able to defend ourselves."
"Certainly, we will do our part, if need be."
This was an expense which Tom had not foreseen; but he at once saw theimportance of being armed when crossing such a country as lay beforethem, and went with Ferguson to make the needful purchase. His Scotchfriend instructed him in the method of using his new weapon, and Tomfelt a boy's natural pride in his new acquisition. He felt years olderthen he did on the morning when he left his country home. He had gainedsome knowledge of the world, and felt a greater confidence in himself onthat account. He looked forward to the remainder of his journey withpleasurable excitement, and lost no time in making the necessarypreparations.