CHAPTER XXXI
JUDGE LYNCH PRONOUNCES SENTENCE
The gentleman from Pike was sitting on a log, surrounded by miners, to whom he was relating his marvelous exploits. The number of Indians, grizzly bears, and enemies generally, which, according to his account, he had overcome and made way with, was simply enormous. Hercules was nothing to him. It can hardly be said that his listeners credited his stories. They had seen enough of life to be pretty good judges of human nature, and regarded them as romances which served to while away the time.
"It seems to me, my friend," said Kellogg, who, it will be remembered, had been a schoolmaster, "that you are a modern Hercules."
"Who's he?" demanded the Pike man suspiciously, for he had never heard of the gentleman referred to.
"He was a great hero of antiquity," exclaimed Kellogg, "who did many wonderful feats."
"That's all right, then," said the Pike man. "If you're friendly, then I'm friendly. But if any man insults me he'll find he's tackled the wrong man. I can whip my weight in wildcats–"
Here he was subjected to an interruption.
Mr. Bickford could no longer suppress his indignation when at a little distance he saw his mustang, which this treacherous braggart had robbed him of, quietly feeding.
"Look here, old Rip-tail, or whatever you call yourself, I've got an account to settle with you."
The Pike man started as he heard Mr. Bickford's voice, which, being of a peculiar nasal character, he instantly recognized. He felt that the meeting was an awkward one, and he would willingly have avoided it. He decided to bluff Joshua off if possible, and, as the best way of doing it, to continue his game of brag.
"Who dares to speak to me thus?" he demanded with a heavy frown, looking in the opposite direction. "Who insults the Rip-tail Roarer?"
"Look this way if you want to see him," said Joshua. "Put on your specs if your eyes ain't good."
The man from Pike could no longer evade looking at his late comrade.
He pretended not to know him.
"Stranger," said he, with one hand on the handle of his knife, "are you tired of life?"
"I am neither tired of life nor afraid of you," said Joshua manfully.
"You don't know me, or–"
"Yes, I do. You're the man that says he can whip his weight in wildcats. I don't believe you dare to face your weight in tame cats."
"Sdeath!" roared the bully. "Do you want to die on the spot?"
"Not particularly, old Rip-tail. Don't talk sech nonsense. I'll trouble you to tell me why you stole my horse on the way out here."
"Let me get at him," said the Pike man in a terrible voice, but not offering to get up from the log.
"Nobody henders your gettin' at me," said Mr. Bickford composedly.
"But that ain't answerin' my question."
"If I didn't respect them two gentlemen too much, I'd shoot you where you stand," said the Pike man.
"I've got a shootin'-iron myself, old Rip-tail, and I'm goin' to use it if necessary."
"What have you to say in answer to this man's charge?" asked one of the miners, a large man who was looked upon as the leader of the company. "He charges you with taking his horse."
"He lies!" said the man from Pike.
"Be keerful, old Rip-tail," said Mr. Bickford in a warning tone. "I don't take sass any more than you do."
"I didn't steal your horse."
"No, you didn't exactly steal it, but you took it without leave and left your own bag of bones in his place. But that wasn't so bad as stealin' all our provisions and leavin' us without a bite, out in the wilderness. That's what I call tarnation mean."
"What have you to say to these charges?" asked the mining leader gravely.
"Say? I say that man is mistaken. I never saw him before in my life."
"Well, that's cheeky," said Joshua, aghast at the man's impudence. "Why, I know you as well as if we'd been to school together. You are the Rip-tail Roarer. You are from Pike County, Missouri, you are. You can whip your weight in wildcats. That's he, gentlemen. I leave it to you."
In giving the description, Joshua imitated the boastful accents of his old comrade with such success that the assembled miners laughed and applauded.
"That's he! You've got him!" they cried.
"Just hear that, old Rip-tail," said Mr. Bickford. "You see these gentlemen here believe me and they don't believe you."
"There's a man in this here country that looks like me," said the Pike man, with a lame excuse. "You've met him, likely."
"That won't go down, old Rip-tail. There ain't but one man can whip his weight in wildcats and tell the all-firedest yarns out. That's you, and there ain't no gettin' round it."
"This is a plot, gentlemen," said the man from Pike, glancing uneasily at the faces around him, in which he read disbelief of his statements. "My word is as good as his."
"Maybe it is," said Mr. Bickford. "I'll call another witness. Joe, jest tell our friends here what you know about the gentleman from Pike. If I'm lyin', say so, and I'll subside and never say another word about it."
"All that my friend Bickford says is perfectly true," said Joe modestly. "This man partook of our hospitality and then repaid us by going off early one morning when we were still asleep, carrying off all our provisions and exchanging his own worn-out horse for my friend's mustang, which was a much better animal."
The man from Pike had not at first seen Joe. His countenance fell when he saw how Mr. Bickford's case was strengthened, and for the moment he could not think of a word to say.
"You are sure this is the man, Joe?" asked, the leader of the miners.
"Yes, I will swear to it. He is not a man whom it is easy to mistake."
"I believe you. Gentlemen," turning to the miners who were sitting or standing about him, "do you believe this stranger or our two friends?"
The reply was emphatic, and the man from Pike saw that he was condemned.
"Gentlemen," he said, rising, "you are mistaken, and I am the victim of a plot. It isn't pleasant to stay where I am suspected, and I'll bid you good evening."
"Not so fast!" said the leader, putting his hand heavily on his shoulder. "You deserve to be punished, and you shall be. Friends, what shall we do with him?"
"Kill him! String him up!" shouted some.
The Rip-tail Roarer's swarthy face grew pale as he heard these ominous words. He knew something of the wild, stern justice of those days. He knew that more than one for an offense like his had expiated his crime with his life.
"It seems to me," said the leader, "that the man he injured should fix the penalty. Say you so?"
"Aye, aye!" shouted the miners.
"Will you two," turning to Joe and Bickford, "decide what shall be done with this man? Shall we string him up?"
The Pike man's nerve gave way.
He flung himself on his knees before Joshua and cried:
"Mercy! mercy! Don't let them hang me!"
Joshua was not hard-hearted. He consulted with Joe and then said:
"I don't want the critter's life. If there was any wild-cats round, I'd like to see him tackle his weight in 'em, as he says he can. As there isn't, let him be tied on the old nag he put off on me, with his head to the horse's tail, supplied with one day's provisions, and then turned loose!"
This sentence was received with loud applause and laughter.
The horse was still in camp and was at once brought out. The man from Pike was securely tied on as directed, and then the poor beast was belabored with whips till he started off at the top of his speed, which his old owner, on account of his reversed position, was unable to regulate. He was followed by shouts and jeers from the miners, who enjoyed this act of retributive justice.
"Mr. Bickford, you are avenged," said Joe,
"So I am, Joe. I'm glad I've got my hoss back; but I can't help pityin' poor old Rip-tail, after all. I don't believe he ever killed a wildcat in his life."
CHAPTER XXXII
TAKING ACCOUNT OF STOCK
Three months passed. They were not eventful. The days were spent in steady and monotonous work; the nights were passed around the camp-fire, telling and hearing, stories and talking of home. Most of their companions gambled and drank, but Mr. Bickford and Joe kept clear of these pitfalls.
"Come, man, drink with me," more than once one of his comrades said to Joshua.
"No, thank you," said Joshua.
"Why not? Ain't I good enough?" asked the other, half offended.
"You mean I'm puttin' on airs 'cause I won't drink with you? No, sir-ree. There isn't a man I'd drink with sooner than with you."
"Come up, then, old fellow. What'll you take?"
"I'll take a sandwich, if you insist on it."
"That's vittles. What'll you drink?"
"Nothing but water. That's strong enough for me."
"Danged if I don't believe you're a minister in disguise."
"I guess I'd make a cur'us preacher," said Joshua, with a comical twist of his features. "You wouldn't want to hear me preach more'n once."
In this way our friend Mr. Bickford managed to evade the hospitable invitations of his comrades and still retain their good-will—not always an easy thing to achieve in those times.
Joe was equally positive in declining to drink, but it was easier for him to escape. Even the most confirmed drinkers felt it to be wrong to coax a boy to drink against his will.
There was still another—Kellogg—who steadfastly adhered to cold water, or tea and coffee, as a beverage. These three were dubbed by their companions the "Cold-Water Brigade," and accepted the designation good-naturedly.
"Joshua," said Joe, some three months after their arrival, "have you taken account of stock lately?"
"No," said Joshua, "but I'll do it now."
After a brief time he announced the result.
"I've got about five hundred dollars, or thereabouts," he said.
"You have done a little better than I have."
"How much have you?"
"About four hundred and fifty."
"I owe you twenty-five dollars, Joe. That'll make us even."
Joshua was about to transfer twenty-five dollars to Joe, when the latter stayed his hand.
"Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Bickford," he said. "Wait till we get to the city."
"Do you know, Joe," said Joshua, in a tone of satisfaction, "I am richer than I was when I sot out from home?"
"I am glad to hear it, Mr. Bickford. You have worked hard, and deserve your luck."
"I had only three hundred dollars then; now I've got four hundred and seventy-five, takin' out what I owe you."
"You needn't take it out at all."
"You've done enough for me, Joe. I don't want you to give me that debt."
"Remember, Joshua, I have got a business in the city paying me money all the time. I expect my share of the profits will be more than I have earned out here."
"That's good. I wish I'd got a business like you. You'd be all right even if you only get enough to pay expenses here."
"That's so."
"I am getting rather tired of this place, Mr. Bickford," said Joe, after a little pause.
"You don't think of going back to the city?" asked Joshua apprehensively.
"Not directly, but I think I should like to see a little more of California. These are not the only diggings."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I haven't considered yet. The main thing is, will you go with me?"
"We won't part company, Joe."
"Good! Then I'll inquire, and see what I can find out about other places. This pays fairly, but there is little chance of getting nuggets of any size hereabouts."
"I'd just like to find one worth two thousand dollars. I'd start for home mighty quick, and give Sukey Smith a chance to become Mrs. Bickford."
"Success to you!" said Joe, laughing.
CHAPTER XXXIII
A STARTLING TABLEAU
Joe finally decided on some mines a hundred miles distant in a southwesterly direction. They were reported to be rich and promising.
"At any rate," said he, "even if they are no better than here, we shall get a little variety and change of scene."
"That'll be good for our appetite."
"I don't think, Mr. Bickford, that either of us need be concerned about his appetite. Mine is remarkably healthy."
"Nothing was ever the matter with mine," said Joshua, "as long as the provisions held out."
They made some few preparations of a necessary character. Their clothing was in rags, and they got a new outfit at the mining store. Each also provided himself with a rifle. The expense of these made some inroads upon their stock of money, but by the time they were ready to start they had eight hundred dollars between them, besides their outfit, and this they considered satisfactory.
Kellogg at first proposed to go with them, but finally he changed his mind.
"I am in a hurry to get home," he said, "and these mines are a sure thing. If I were as young as you, I would take the risk. As it is, I had better not. I've got a wife and child at home, and I want to go back to them as soon as I can."
"You are right," said Joe.
"I've got a girl at home," said Joshua, "but I guess she'll wait for me."
"Suppose she don't," suggested Joe.
"I shan't break my heart," said Mr. Bickford. "There's more than one girl in the world."
"I see you are a philosopher, Mr. Bickford," said his old schoolmaster.
"I don't know about that, but I don't intend to make a fool of myself for any gal. I shall say, 'Sukey, here I am; I've got a little money, and I'm your'n till death if you say so. If you don't want me, I won't commit susancide."
"That's a capital joke, Joshua," said Joe. "Her name is Susan, isn't it?"
"Have I made a joke? Waal, I didn't go to do it."
"It is unconscious wit, Mr. Bickford," said Kellogg.
"Pooty good joke, ain't it?" said Joshua complacently. "Susan-cide, and her name is Susan. Ho! ho! I never thought on't."
And Joshua roared in appreciation of the joke which he had unwittingly perpetrated, for it must be explained that he thought susan-cide the proper form of the word expressing a voluntary severing of the vital cord.
Years afterward, when Joshua found himself the center of a social throng, he was wont to say, "Ever heard that joke I made about Susan?" and then he would cite it amid the plaudits of his friends.
Mr. Bickford and Joe had not disposed of their horses. They had suffered them to forage in the neighborhood of the river, thinking it possible that the time would come when they would require them.
One fine morning they set out from the camp near the banks of the Yuba and set their faces in a southwesterly direction. They had made themselves popular among their comrades, and the miners gave them a hearty cheer as they started.
"Good luck, Joe! Good luck, old man!" they exclaimed heartily.
"The same to you, boy!"
So with mutual good feeling they parted company.
"We ain't leavin' like our friend from Pike County," said Mr. Bickford. "I often think of the poor critter trottin' off with face to the rear."
"I hope we shan't meet him or any of his kind," said Joe.
"So do I. He'd better go and live among the wildcats."
"He is some like them. He lives upon others."
It would only be wearisome to give a detailed account of the journey of the two friends. One incident will suffice.
On the fourth day Joe suddenly exclaimed in excitement:
"Look, Joshua!"
"By gosh!"
The exclamation was a natural one. At the distance of forty rods a man was visible, his hat off, his face wild with fear, and in dangerous proximity a grizzly bear of the largest size doggedly pursuing him.
"It's Hogan!" exclaimed Joe in surprise. "We must save him."
CHAPTER XXXIV
A GRIZZLY ON THE WAR-PATH
It may surprise some of my young friends to learn that the grizzly bear is to be found in California. Though as the State has increased in population mostly all have been killed off, even now among the mountains they may be found, and occasionally visit the lower slopes and attack men and beasts.
Hogan had had the ill-luck to encounter one of these animals.
When he first saw the grizzly there was a considerable space between them. If he had concealed himself, he might have escaped the notice of the beast, but when he commenced running the grizzly became aware of his presence and started in pursuit.
Hogan was rather dilapidated in appearance. Trusting to luck instead of labor, he had had a hard time, as he might have expected. His flannel shirt was ragged and his nether garments showed the ravages of time. In the race his hat had dropped off and his rough, unkempt hair was erect with fright. He was running rapidly, but was already showing signs of exhaustion. The bear was getting over the ground with clumsy speed, appearing to take it easily, but overhauling his intended victim slowly, but surely.
Joe and Bickford were standing on one side, and had not yet attracted the attention of either party in this unequal race.
"Poor chap!" said Joshua. "He looks most tuckered out. Shall I shoot?"
"Wait till the bear gets a little nearer. We can't afford to miss.
He will turn on us."
"I'm in a hurry to roll the beast over," said Joshua. "It's a cruel sight to see a grizzly hunting a man."
At this moment Hogan turned his head with the terror-stricken look of a man who felt that he was lost.
The bear was little more than a hundred feet behind him and was gaining steadily. He was already terribly fatigued—his breathing was reduced to a hoarse pant. He was overcome by the terror of the situation, and his remaining strength gave way. With a shrill cry he sank down upon the ground, and, shutting his eyes, awaited the attack.
The bear increased his speed.
"Now let him have it!" said Joe in a sharp, quick whisper.
Mr. Bickford fired, striking the grizzly in the face.
Bruin stood still and roared angrily. He wagged his large head from one side to the other, seeking by whom this attack was made.
He espied the two friends, and, abandoning his pursuit of Hogan, rolled angrily toward them.
"Give it to him quick, Joe!" exclaimed Bickford. "He's making for us."
Joe held his rifle with steady hand and took deliberate aim. It was well he did, for had he failed both he and Bickford would have been in great peril.
His faithful rifle did good service.
The bear tumbled to the earth with sudden awkwardness. The bullet had reached a vital part and the grizzly was destined to do no more mischief.
"Is he dead, or only feigning?" asked Joe prudently.
"He's a gone coon," said Joshua. "Let us go up and look at him."
They went up and stood over the huge beast. He was not quite dead. He opened his glazing eyes, made a convulsive movement with his paws as if he would like to attack his foes, and then his head fell back and he moved no more.
"He's gone, sure enough," said Bickford. "Good-by, old grizzly. You meant well, but circumstances interfered with your good intentions."
"Now let us look up Hogan," said Joe.
The man had sunk to the ground utterly exhausted, and in his weakness and terror had fainted.
Joe got some water and threw it in his face.
He opened his eyes and drew a deep breath. A sudden recollection blanched his face anew, and he cried:
"Don't let him get at me!"
"You're safe, Mr. Hogan," said Joe. "The bear is dead."
"Dead! Is he really dead?"
"If you don't believe it, get up and look at him," said Bickford.
"I can't get up—I'm so weak."
"Let me help you, then. There—do you see the critter?"
Hogan shuddered as he caught sight of the huge beast only twenty-five feet distant from him.
"Was he as near as that?" he gasped.
"He almost had you," said Bickford. "If it hadn't been for Joe and me, he'd have been munchin' you at this identical minute. Things have changed a little, and in place of the bear eatin' you you shall help eat the bear."
By this time Hogan, realizing that he was safe, began to recover his strength. As he did so he became angry with the beast that had driven him such a hard race for life. He ran up to the grizzly and kicked him.
"Take that!" he exclaimed with an oath. "I wish you wasn't dead, so that I could stick my knife into you."
"If he wasn't dead you'd keep your distance," said Joshua dryly. "It don't require much courage to tackle him now."
Hogan felt this to be a reflection upon his courage.
"I guess you'd have run, too, if he'd been after you," he said.
"I guess I should. Bears are all very well in their place, but I'd rather not mingle with 'em socially. They're very affectionate and fond of hugging, but if I'm going to be hugged I wouldn't choose a bear."
"You seem to think I was a coward for runnin' from the bear."
"No, I don't. How do I know you was runnin' from the bear? Maybe you was only takin' a little exercise to get up an appetite for dinner."
"I am faint and weak," said Hogan. "I haven't had anything to eat for twelve hours."
"You shall have some food," said Joe. "Joshua, where are the provisions? We may as well sit down and lunch."
"Jest as you say, Joe. I most generally have an appetite."
There was a mountain spring within a stone's throw. Joshua took a tin pail and brought some of the sparkling beverage, which he offered first to Hogan.
Hogan drank greedily. His throat was parched and dry, and he needed it.
He drew a deep breath of relief.
"I feel better," said he. "I was in search of a spring when that cursed beast spied me and gave me chase."
They sat down under the shade of a large tree and lunched.
"What sort of luck have you had since you tried to break into my restaurant, Mr. Hogan?" asked Joe.
Hogan changed color. The question was an awkward one.
"Who told you I tried to enter your restaurant?" he asked.
"The man you brought there."
"That wasn't creditable of you, Hogan," said Joshua, with his mouth full. "After my friend Joe had given you a supper and promised you breakfast, it was unkind to try to rob him. Don't you think so yourself?"
"I couldn't help it," said Hogan, who had rapidly decided on his defense.
"Couldn't help it?" said Joe in a tone of inquiry. "That's rather a strange statement."
"It's true," said Hogan. "The man forced me to do it."
"How was that?"
"He saw me comin' out of the restaurant a little while before, and when he met me, after trying to rob me and finding that it didn't pay, he asked me if I was a friend of yours. I told him I was. Then he began to ask if you slept there at night and if anybody was with you. I didn't want to answer, but he held a pistol at my head and forced me to. Then he made me go with him. I offered to get in, thinking I could whisper in your ear and warn you, but he wouldn't let me. He stationed me at the window and got in himself. You know what followed. As soon as I saw you were too strong for him I ran away, fearing that he might try to implicate me in the attempt at robbery."
Hogan recited this story very glibly and in a very plausible manner.
"Mr. Hogan," said Joe, "if I didn't know you so thoroughly, I might be disposed to put confidence in your statements. As it is, I regret to say I don't believe you."
"Hogan," said Joshua, "I think you're one of the fust romancers of the age. If I ever start a story-paper I'll engage you to write for me."
"I am sorry you do me so much injustice, gentlemen," said Hogan, with an air of suffering innocence. "I'm the victim of circumstances."
"I expect you're a second George Washington. You never told a lie, did you?"
"Some time you will know me better," said Hogan.
"I hope not," said Joe. "I know you better now than I want to."