"Suppose," suggested Ben, laughing, "we let Ki Sing ride?"
Bradley saw that a joke was intended, and he turned gravely to theChinaman. "Ki Sing," he said, "come here and mount this mustang. We aregoin' to let you ride."
An expression of alarm overspread the Chinaman's broad face. He hadnever been on a horse's back in his life, but he knew something of theCalifornian mustangs. More than once he had seen them buck and throwthe ill-fated riders over their heads, and, not being of a daring orventuresome nature, he preferred to walk rather than trust himself tomount the back of so treacherous an animal.
"Ki Sing no wantee lide," he said, starting back in alarm.
"But, Ki Sing, you will get tired tramping over these hills. It will bemuch easier to ride on a mustang."
"No likee mustang--mustang buckee," objected the Chinaman.
"You are right, Ki Sing. They do buck sometimes, but this animal is asmild and peaceful as a lamb. However, we won't insist on your ridingnow. Some other day, when you have found out how safe he is, you shalltry him."
The Chinaman seemed much relieved at the privilege accorded him ofwalking, and with his small bundle prepared to take his place in theprocession.
"Ben," said Bradley, "the best way for us to arrange will be to taketurns in riding. I'd a good deal rather walk half the way. My legs getcramped when I am on horseback too long. You remember I used to get offand lead the horse when we had one apiece. You may take your turn first,and as you are riding I will give you a bag to carry. Mind you don'tlose it, for it contains our store of gold-dust."
"All right, Jake. I'll ride first, if you say so." In truth, Ben waspleased to find himself once more on the back of a horse. He had not hadmuch practice in riding at the East, but the practice he had had inCalifornia had already made him a good rider, and even if the mustanghad taken a fancy to buck he would have found it rather hard to dislodgeour young hero. The animal he bestrode, however, was very well-behaved,especially when he felt that his rider had the mastery over him. Anyhorse, with any spirit, is apt to take advantage of a timid orunpractised rider, and the animal is very quick to learn when this isthe case.
During the first day the mustang behaved remarkably well. To begin with,both Ben and Bradley were good riders. Moreover, the path was veryuneven, chiefly up and down hill, and the horse was too sensible to gomuch beyond a walk.
As for Dewey, he got on very comfortably. His ankle was nearly as strongas at first, but if he had been compelled to use it for a day's tramp itwould undoubtedly have ached and become sensitive. On the back of hishorse--or rather Bradley's--there was of course no danger of injury.When he became tired of his constrained position he got off and walked aquarter or half a mile, and experienced the needed relief.
At the end of the first day they had got well down the mountain, and thecommencement of the second day's ride was over a nearly level plateau.
"This is a good place for Ki Sing to ride," suggested Ben.
"Just so," said Bradley, taking the hint.--"Ki Sing, you must take yourturn now."
"No wantee lide," said the Chinaman, but he did not greet the proposalwith so much alarm as on the morning previous. He had noticed the quietbehavior and regular pace of the two mustangs, and concluded that theywere of a different kind from those he had seen misbehave on formeroccasions.
"Oh, you'll like it well enough when you try it, Ki Sing," said Bradley."Were you ever on a horse's back?"
"Me never lide," answered the Chinaman.
"Then it is high time you began. You see, Ki Sing, it isn't exactly fairthat Ben and I should ride half the time and leave you to walk all theway."
"Likee walk," said Ki Sing.
"That's because you never tried riding. You see, these two hosses ofours are jest like lambs. They're so gentle they could be rid by atwo-year-old baby."
The Chinaman looked at the mustangs, and confidence came to him. So faras he had observed, what Jake Bradley said was strictly true. Theycertainly did seem remarkably tame.
With a little more persuasion he was induced to mount, Ben assisting himto get into position, and the reins were put into his hands.
The mustang began to move off at a regular pace, very favorable to aninexperienced rider, and a bland and child-like smile of contentoverspread the face of the Chinaman.
"You see, Ki Sing," said Bradley, who walked alongside, "it's nothing toride. You thought you couldn't ride, yet you are pacing it off like aveteran."
"Me likee lide," observed Ki Sing, with a pleased smile.
"Just so: I thought you would.--Ben, doesn't Ki Sing ride well?"
"Splendidly!" said Ben, contemplating with amusement the Mongolianhorseman.
Certainly, Ki Sing in his Chinese garb, as he gingerly held the reins,with his bland, smiling face, did look rather queer.
But I am sorry to say that the poor Chinaman's pleasure and contentmentwere destined to be of short duration. Bradley and Ben were eager forthe amusement they promised themselves when they planned this practicaljoke at the expense of their Asiatic friend.
Winking at Ben, Bradley said, "You don't go fast enough, Ki Sing."
As he spoke he brought down a stick which he had in his hand withemphasis on the flanks of the mustang. The effect was magical. The tameanimal immediately started off at great speed, arching his neck andshaking his head, while the poor Chinaman, his bland smile succeeded bya look of extreme terror, was bounced up and down in the mostunceremonious fashion, and would have been thrown off quickly but forthe Mexican saddle, which is a securer seat than that used at the East.
He uttered a howl of anguish, while his almond eyes seemed starting outof their sockets as his steed dashed along the road.
Though Ben sympathized with the terrified Chinaman, he knew there waslittle or no danger, and he threw himself on the ground and gave way toa paroxysm of laughter.
Finally the horse slackened his pace, and Ki Sing lost no time insliding to the ground.
"How do you like it, Ki Sing?" asked Bradley, trying to keep his facestraight.
"No likee lide," answered Mr. Chinaman. "Horsee 'most kill Ki Sing."
"You rode splendidly, Ki Sing," said Ben, laughing. "You made him gofast."
"No likee go fast," said Ki Sing, inspecting his limbs to see that nonewere broken.
The poor Chinaman's limbs were sore for a day or two, and he could neverbe induced to mount one of the mustangs again.
It was his first and last ride.
CHAPTER XIV.
GOLDEN GULCH HOTEL.
The party were able to cover a greater distance on the second day thanon the first, being now among the foot-hills, where travelling wasattended with less difficulty.
In the mountain-cabin they had been solitary. Their only visitors hadbeen Bill Mosely and his friend Tom Hadley, and such visitors they wereglad to dispense with. Now, however, it was different. Here and therethey found a little mining-settlement with its quota of rough, beardedmen clad in strange fashion. Yet some of these men had filledresponsible and prominent positions in the East. One of the mostbrigandish-looking miners had been a clergyman in Western New York, whohad been compelled by bronchial troubles to give up his parish, and,being poor, had wandered to the California mines in the hope ofgathering a competence for the support of his family.
"It seems good to see people again," said Ben, whose temperament wassocial. "I felt like Robinson Crusoe on his desert island when I was upon the mountain."
"Yes," answered Bradley, "I like to see people myself when they're ofthe right sort. When they're like Bill Mosely I'd rather be alone."
"I agree with you there," said Ben. "Poor company is worse than none."
Besides the mining-settlements there were little knots of miners at workhere and there, who generally gave the travellers a cordial welcome, andoften invited them to stay and join them.
"No," said Bradley, "we're in a hurry to get to 'Frisco."
"Oh, you've made your pile, then?" was generally answered. "What luck
have you had?"
"Our pile is a small one," Bradley was wont to reply, "but we've gotbusiness in 'Frisco. Leastwise, he has," pointing to Richard Dewey, whoheaded the procession.
"Will you come back to the mines?"
"I shall, for one," said Bradley. "I ain't rich enough to retire yet,and I don't expect to be for half a dozen years yet."
"Will the boy come back?"
"Yes," answered Ben. "I'm in the same situation as my friend, Mr.Bradley. I haven't my fortune yet."
"You'd better stay with us, boy. We'll do the right thing by you."
Ben shook his head and declined with thanks. He did not want to forsakehis present companions. Besides, he had been commissioned by FlorenceDouglas to find Richard Dewey, and he wanted to execute that commissionthoroughly. He wanted to see the two united, and then he would becontent to return to the rough life of the mining-camp.
It is easy to understand why Ben should have received so many friendlyinvitations. A boy was a rarity in California at that time--at any rate,in the mining-districts. There were plenty of young men and men ofmiddle age, but among the adventurous immigrants were to be found fewboys of sixteen, the age of our hero. The sight of his fresh young faceand boyish figure recalled to many miners the sons whom they had leftbehind them, and helped to make more vivid the picture of home whichtheir imaginations often conjured up, and they would have liked to haveBen join their company. But, as I have said, Ben had his reasons fordeclining all invitations at present, though he had every reason toanticipate good treatment.
Toward the close of the second day the little party reached a smallmining-settlement containing probably about fifty miners.
It was known as Golden Gulch, and it even boasted a small hotel, with aboard sign, on which had been scrawled in charcoal--
GOLDEN GULCH HOTEL.
KEPT BY JIM BROWN.
"I believe we are getting into the domain of civilization," said RichardDewey. "Actually, here is a hotel. If Mr. Brown is not too exorbitantin his prices, we had better put up here for the night."
"It doesn't look like an expensive hotel," said Ben, looking at therough shanty which the proprietor had dignified by the appellation of"hotel."
It was roughly put together, had but one story, was unpainted, and wasaltogether hardly equal, architecturally, to some of the huts which areto be found among the rocks at the upper end of Manhattan Island.
Such was Jim Brown's "Golden Gulch Hotel." Such as it was, however, itlooked attractive to our pilgrims, who for so long had been compelled tobe their own cooks and servants.
They found, upon inquiry, that Jim Brown's terms for supper, lodging,and breakfast were five dollars a day, or as nearly as that sum could bereached in gold-dust. It was considerably higher than the prices thenasked at the best hotels in New York and Philadelphia; but high pricesprevailed in California, and no one scrupled to pay them.
The party decided to remain, and the landlord set to work to preparethem a supper as good as the limited resources of the Golden Gulch Hotelwould allow. Still, the fare was better and more varied than ourtravellers had been accustomed to for a long time, and they enjoyed it.
Ki Sing sat down to the table with them. This was opposed at first byJim Brown, the landlord, who regarded Chinamen as scarcely above thelevel of his mules.
"You don't mean to say you want that heathen to sit down at the tablewith you?" he remonstrated.
"Yes, I do," said Richard Dewey.
"I'd sooner be kicked by a mule than let any yaller heathen sit next tome," remarked Jim Brown, whose education and refinement made himsensitive to such social contamination.
Richard Dewey smiled. "Of course you can choose for yourself," he said."Ki Sing is a friend of mine, though he is acting as my servant, and Iwant him to have equal privileges."
Jim Brown remarked that of course Dewey could choose his own company,though he intimated that he thought his taste might be improved.
"Me eatee aftelward," said Ki Sing when he perceived that his presenceat the table was the subject of controversy, but he was overruled byRichard Dewey, who possessed a large share of independence, and wouldnot allow himself to be controlled or influenced by the prejudices ofothers.
This may not seem a very important matter, but it aroused a certainhostility on the part of the landlord, which arrayed him against Deweyand his companions at a critical time.
Entirely unconscious of the storm that was soon to gather about them,the little party did good justice to the supper which Mr. Brown setbefore them.
"How would it seem, Jake, to have supper like this every night?"remarked Ben.
"It would make me feel like a prince," answered Jake Bradley.
"It is no better than I used to get at Uncle Job's, and yet he was apoor man. How he would stare if he knew I was paying five dollars a dayfor no better fare than he gave me!" replied our hero.
"That's true, Ben; but maybe it's easier to get the five dollars herethan it would have been to scrape together fifty cents at home."
"You're right there, Jake. Fifty cents was a pretty big sum to me a yearago. I don't believe Uncle Job himself averages over a dollar and aquarter a day, and he has a family to support. If I only do well here,I'll make him comfortable in his old age."
"I guess you'll have the chance, Ben. You're the boy to succeed. You'resmart, and you're willin' to work, and them's what leads to success outhere."
"Thank you, Jake. I will try to deserve your favorable opinion."
As Ben finished these words, there was a confused noise outside, thehoarse murmur as of angry men, and a minute later Jim Brown the landlordentered the room, his face dark and threatening.
"Strangers," said he, "I reckoned there was something wrong about youwhen you let that yaller heathen sit down with you. Now, I know it. Youain't square, respectable men; you're hoss-thieves!"
CHAPTER XV.
BILL MOSELY REAPPEARS.
It will be necessary to go back a little in order to explain how soextraordinary a charge came to be made against the party in which we areinterested.
Bill Mosely and Tom Hadley did not become reconciled to the loss oftheir stolen horses. They found it much less agreeable to use their ownlegs than the legs of the two mustangs which had borne them socomfortably over the hills. They cursed the fate which had led to theirmeeting with Ki Sing, and the poor Chinaman would have fared worse attheir hands had they anticipated the trouble which he indirectly broughtthem.
Bill Mosely was naturally lazy; any sort of work he considered beneathhim, and he desired to avoid all possible trouble in the lawless andvagabond life which he had chosen. He took it worse, indeed, than hiscompanion, who was neither so shiftless nor so lazy as he.
During the few days which had elapsed since they were glad to leave themountain-cabin they had averaged less than ten miles' daily travel. Theyhad money enough to purchase animals to replace those which had beentaken from them, but had not found any one who was willing to sell for areasonable price, and Mosely, though he came easily by his money, wasfar from lavish in the spending of it.
It chanced that an hour after the arrival of Richard Dewey and his partyat the Golden Gulch Hotel, Mosely and his companion, dusty and tired,approached the small mining-settlement, of which the hotel was theprincipal building.
They had had nothing to eat since morning, and both of them felt hungry,not to say ravenous.
"Thank Heaven, Tom, there's a mining-town!" ejaculated Mosely, with anexpression of devotion not usual to him. "Now we can get something toeat, and I, for my part, feel as empty as a drum. It's hard travellingon an empty stomach."
"I should say so," remarked Mr. Hadley, with his usual formula. It mustbe admitted, however, that in the present instance he was entirelysincere, and fully meant what he said.
"There's a hotel," said Tom Hadley, a minute later, venturing on anoriginal observation.
"So there is; what is the name?" inquired Mosely, who was not asfar-sighted as his companion.
&
nbsp; "The Golden Gulch Hotel," answered Hadley, shading his eyes and readingfrom a distance of fifty rods the pretentious sign of the little inn.
"I suppose they'll charge a fortune for a supper," said Mosely, whoseeconomical spirit was troubled by the exorbitant prices then prevalentin California, "but we must have it at any cost."
"I should say so," assented Tom Hadley, cordially.
"You always have a good appetite of your own," observed Mosely, notwithout sarcasm, which, however, Tom Hadley was too obtuse tocomprehend.
"I should say so," returned Tom complacently, as if he had received acompliment.
"No doubt you'll get your money's worth, no matter how much we pay forsupper."
Tom Hadley himself was of this opinion, and so expressed himself.
They had already caught sight of two mustangs which were browsing nearthe Golden Gulch Hotel, and the sight of these useful animals excitedthe envy and longing of Bill Mosely.
"Do you see them mustangs, Tom?" he inquired.
"I should say so."
"I wish we had them."
"Couldn't we take them?" suggested Hadley, his face brightening at thethought of this easy mode of acquiring what they so much needed.
"Are you mad, Tom Hadley?" returned Bill Mosely, shrugging hisshoulders. "Are you anxious to die?"
"I should say--not."
"Then you'd better not think of carrying off them horses. Why, we'd havethe whole pack of miners after us, and we'd die in our boots beforetwenty-four hours had passed."