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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12823 ***
+
+                            JOE’S LUCK
+                                OR
+                         ALWAYS WIDE AWAKE
+
+
+                                BY
+
+                        HORATIO ALGER, JR.
+
+
+                             AUTHOR OF
+
+        “TONY THE TRAMP,” “SLOW AND SURE,” “THE CASH BOY,”
+          “MAKING HIS WAY,” “JACK’S WARD,” “DO AND DARE,”
+             “FACING THE WORLD,” “STRONG AND STEADY,”
+                    “STRIVE AND SUCCEED,” ETC.
+
+
+
+
+                             NEW YORK
+                     THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
+                               1913
+
+
+
+
+JOE’S LUCK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+INTRODUCES JOE
+
+
+“Come here, you Joe, and be quick about it!”
+
+The boy addressed, a stout boy of fifteen, with an honest,
+sun-browned face, looked calmly at the speaker.
+
+“What’s wanted?” he asked.
+
+“Brush me off, and don’t be all day about it!” said Oscar Norton
+impatiently.
+
+Joe’s blue eyes flashed indignantly at the tone of the other.
+
+“You can brush yourself off,” he answered independently.
+
+“What do you mean by your impudence?” demanded Oscar angrily. “Have
+you turned lazy all at once?”
+
+“No,” said Joe firmly, “but I don’t choose to be ordered round by
+you.”
+
+“What’s up, I wonder? Ain’t you our servant?”
+
+“I am not your servant, though your father is my employer.”
+
+“Then you are bound to obey me--his son.”
+
+“I don’t see it.”
+
+“Then you’d better, if you know what’s best for yourself. Are you
+going to brush me off?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Look out! I can get my father to turn you off.”
+
+“You may try if you want to.”
+
+Oscar, much incensed, went to his father to report Joe’s
+insubordination. While he is absent, a few words of explanation
+will enlighten the reader as to Joe’s history and present position.
+
+Joe Mason was alone in the world. A year previous he had lost his
+father, his only remaining parent, and when the father’s affairs
+were settled and funeral expenses paid there was found to be just
+five dollars left, which was expended for clothing for Joe.
+
+In this emergency Major Norton, a farmer and capitalist, offered to
+provide Joe with board and clothes and three months’ schooling in
+the year in return for his services. As nothing else offered, Joe
+accepted, but would not bind himself for any length of time. He was
+free to go whenever he pleased.
+
+Now there were two disagreeable things in Joe’s new place. The
+first was the parsimony of Major Norton, who was noted for his
+stingy disposition, and the second was the overbearing manners of
+Oscar, who lost no opportunity to humiliate Joe and tyrannize over
+him so far as Joe’s independent spirit would allow. It happened,
+therefore, that Joe was compelled to work hard, while the promised
+clothing was of the cheapest and shabbiest description. He was
+compelled to go to school in patched shoes and a ragged suit, which
+hurt his pride as he compared himself with Oscar, who was carefully
+and even handsomely dressed. Parsimonious as his father was, he was
+anxious that his only boy should appear to advantage.
+
+On the very day on which our story begins Oscar had insulted Joe in
+a way which excited our hero’s bitter indignation.
+
+This is the way it happened:
+
+Joe, who was a general favorite on account of his good looks and
+gentlemanly manners, and in spite of his shabby attire, was walking
+home with Annie Raymond, the daughter of the village physician,
+when Oscar came up.
+
+He was himself secretly an admirer of the young lady, but had never
+received the least encouragement from her. It made him angry to see
+his father’s drudge walking on equal terms with his own favorite,
+and his coarse nature prompted him to insult his enemy.
+
+“Miss Raymond,” he said, lifting his hat mockingly, “I congratulate
+you on the beau you have picked up.”
+
+Annie Raymond fully appreciated his meanness, and answered calmly:
+
+“I accept your congratulations, Mr. Norton.”
+
+This answer made Oscar angry and led him to go further than he
+otherwise would.
+
+“You must be hard up for an escort, when you accept such a
+ragamuffin as Joe Mason.”
+
+Joe flushed with anger.
+
+“Oscar Norton, do you mean to insult Miss Raymond or me,” he
+demanded.
+
+“So you are on your high horse!” said Oscar sneeringly.
+
+“Will you answer my question?”
+
+“Yes, I will. I certainly don’t mean to insult Miss Raymond, but I
+wonder at her taste in choosing my father’s hired boy to walk with.”
+
+“I am not responsible to you for my choice, Oscar Norton,” said
+Annie Raymond, with dignity. “If my escort is poorly dressed, it is
+not his fault, nor do I think the less of him for it.”
+
+“If your father would dress me better, I should be very glad of
+it,” said Joe. “If I am a ragamuffin, it is his fault.”
+
+“I’ll report that to him,” said Oscar maliciously.
+
+“I wish you would. It would save me the trouble of asking him for
+better clothes.”
+
+“Suppose we go on,” said Annie Raymond.
+
+“Certainly,” said Joe politely.
+
+And they walked on, leaving Oscar discomfited and mortified.
+
+“What a fool Annie Raymond makes of herself” he muttered. “I should
+think she’d be ashamed to go round with Joe Mason.”
+
+Oscar would have liked to despise Annie Raymond, but it was out
+of his power. She was undoubtedly the belle of the school, and he
+would have been proud to receive as much notice from her as she
+freely accorded to Joe. But the young lady had a mind and a will of
+her own, and she had seen too much to dislike in Oscar to regard
+him with favor, even if he were the son of a rich man, while she
+had the good sense and discrimination to see that Joe, despite his
+ragged garb, possessed sterling good qualities.
+
+When Oscar got home he sought his father.
+
+“Father,” said he, “I heard Joe complaining to Annie Raymond that
+you didn’t dress him decently.”
+
+Major Norton looked annoyed.
+
+“What does the boy mean?” he said. “What does he expect?”
+
+“He should be dressed as well as I am,” said Oscar maliciously.
+
+“Quite out of the question,” said the major hastily. “Your clothes
+cost a mint of money.”
+
+“Of course, you want me to look well, father. I am your son, and he
+is only your hired boy.”
+
+“I don’t want folks to talk,” said the major, who was sensitive to
+public opinion. “Don’t you think his clothes are good enough?”
+
+“Of course they are; but I’ll tell you what, father,” said Oscar,
+with a sudden idea, “you know that suit of mine that I got stained
+with acid?”
+
+“Yes, Oscar,” said the major gravely. “I ought to remember it.
+It cost me thirty-four dollars, and you spoiled it by your
+carelessness.”
+
+“Suppose you give that to Joe?” suggested Oscar.
+
+“He’s a good deal larger than you. It wouldn’t fit him; and,
+besides, it’s stained.”
+
+“What right has a hired boy to object to a stain? No matter if it
+is too small, he has no right to be particular.”
+
+“You are right, Oscar,” said the major, who was glad to be saved
+the expense of a new suit for Joe. Even he had been unpleasantly
+conscious that Joe’s appearance had become discreditable to him.
+“You may bring it down, Oscar,” he said.
+
+“I dare say Joe won’t like the idea of wearing it, but a boy in his
+position has no right to be proud.”
+
+“Of course not,” returned the major, his ruling passion gratified
+by the prospect of saving the price of a suit. “When Joseph comes
+home--at any rate, after he is through with his chores--you may
+tell him to come in to me.”
+
+“All right, sir.”
+
+Before Oscar remembered this message, the scene narrated at the
+commencement of the chapter occurred. On his way to complain to his
+father, he recollected the message, and, retracing his steps, said
+to Joe:
+
+“My father wants to see you right off.”
+
+This was a summons which Joe felt it his duty to obey. He
+accordingly bent his steps to the room where Major Norton usually
+sat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE STAINED SUIT
+
+
+“Oscar tells me that you wish to see me, sir,” said Joe, as he
+entered the presence of his pompous employer.
+
+Major Norton wheeled round in his armchair and looked at Joe over
+his spectacles. He looked at Joe’s clothes, too, and it did strike
+him forcibly that they were very shabby. However, there was Oscar’s
+stained suit; which was entirely whole and of excellent cloth. As
+to the stains, what right had a boy like Joe to be particular?
+
+“Ahem!” said the major, clearing his throat. “Oscar tells me that
+you are not satisfied with the clothes I have I given you.”
+
+“He has told you the truth, Major Norton,” replied Joe bluntly.
+“If you will look for yourself, I think you will see why I am
+dissatisfied.”
+
+“Joseph,” said the major, in a tone of disapproval, “you are too
+free spoken. I understand you have been complaining to Doctor
+Raymond’s daughter of the way I dress you.”
+
+“Did Oscar tell you the way that happened?” inquired Joe.
+
+“I apprehend he did not.”
+
+“When I was walking home with Miss Annie Raymond, Oscar came up and
+insulted me, calling me a ragamuffin. I told him that, if I was a
+ragamuffin, it was not my fault.”
+
+Major Norton looked disturbed.
+
+“Oscar was inconsiderate,” he said. “It seems to me that your
+clothes are suitable to your station in life. It is not well for a
+boy in your circumstances to be ‘clothed in purple and fine linen,’
+as the Scriptures express it. However, perhaps it is time for you
+to have another suit.”
+
+Joe listened in astonishment. Was it possible that Major Norton
+was going to open his heart and give him what he had long secretly
+desired?
+
+Our hero’s delusion was soon dissipated.
+
+Major Norton rose from his seat, and took from a chair near-by a
+stained suit, which had not yet attracted Joe’s attention.
+
+“Here is a suit of Oscar’s,” he said, “which is quite whole and
+almost new. Oscar only wore it a month. It cost me thirty-four
+dollars!” said the major impressively.
+
+He held it up, and Joe recognized it at once.
+
+“Isn’t it the suit Oscar got stained?” he asked abruptly.
+
+“Ahem! Yes; it is a little stained, but that doesn’t injure the
+texture of the cloth.”
+
+As he held it up the entire suit seemed to have been sprinkled with
+acid, which had changed the color in large, patches in different
+parts. The wearer would be pretty sure to excite an unpleasant
+degree of attention.
+
+Joe did not appear to be overwhelmed with the magnificence of the
+gift.
+
+“If it is so good, why don’t Oscar wear it?” he asked.
+
+Major Norton regarded Joe with displeasure.
+
+“It cannot matter to you how Oscar chooses to dress,” he said. “I
+apprehend that you and he are not on a level.”
+
+“He is your son, and I am your hired boy,” said Joe. “I admit that.
+But I don’t see how you can ask me to wear a suit like that.”
+
+“I apprehend that you are unsuitably proud, Joseph.”
+
+“I hope not, sir; but I don’t want to attract everybody’s notice
+as I walk the streets. If I had stained the suit myself, I should
+have felt bound to wear it, but it was Oscar’s carelessness that
+destroyed its appearance, and I don’t think I ought to suffer for
+that. Besides, it is much too small for me. Let me show you.”
+
+Joe pulled off his coat and put on the stained one. The sleeves
+were from two to three inches too short, and it was so far from
+meeting in front, on account of his being much broader than Oscar,
+that his shoulders seemed drawn back to meet each other behind.
+
+“It doesn’t exactly fit,” said the major; “but it can be let out
+easily. I will send it to Miss Pearce--the village tailoress--to
+fix it over for you.”
+
+“Thank you, Major Norton,” said Joe, in a decided tone, “but I hope
+you won’t go to that expense, for I shall not be willing to wear it
+under any circumstances.”
+
+“I cannot believe my ears,” said Major Norton, with dignified
+displeasure. “How old are you, Joseph?”
+
+“Fifteen, sir.”
+
+“It is not fitting that you, a boy of fifteen, should dictate to
+your employer.”
+
+“I don’t wish to, Major Norton, but I am not willing to wear that
+suit.”
+
+“You are too proud. Your pride needs taking down.”
+
+“Major Norton,” said Joe firmly, “I should like to tell you how I
+feel. You are my employer, and I am your hired boy. I try to do my
+duty by you.”
+
+“You are a good boy to work, Joseph. I don’t complain of that.”
+
+“You agreed to give me board and clothing for my services.”
+
+“So I have.”
+
+“Yes, sir; but you have dressed me in such a way that I attract
+attention in the street for my shabbiness. I don’t think I am very
+proud, but I have been mortified! more than once when I saw people
+looking at my patched clothes and shoes out at the toes. I think if
+I work faithfully I ought to be dressed decently.”
+
+“Joseph,” said Major Norton uneasily, “you look at the thing too
+one-sided. You don’t expect me to dress you like Oscar?”
+
+“No, sir; I don’t. If you would spend half as much for my clothes
+as you do for Oscar’s I would be contented.”
+
+“It seems to me you are very inconsistent. Here is a suit of
+clothes that cost me thirty-four dollars, which I offer you, and
+you decline.”
+
+“You know why well enough, sir,” said Joe, “You did not tell me you
+intended to dress me in Oscar’s castoff clothes, too small, and
+stained at that. I would rather wear the patched suit I have on
+till it drops to pieces than wear this suit.”
+
+“You can go, Joseph,” said Major Norton, in a tone of annoyance. “I
+did not expect to find you so unreasonable. If you do not choose to
+take what I offer you, you will have to go without.”
+
+“Very well, sir.”
+
+Joe left the room, his face flushed and his heart full of
+indignation at the slight which had been attempted on him.
+
+“It is Oscar’s doings, I have no doubt,” he said to himself. “It is
+like his meanness. He meant to mortify me.”
+
+If there had been any doubt in Joe’s mind, it would soon have been
+cleared up. Oscar had been lying in wait for his appearance, and
+managed to meet him as he went out into the yard.
+
+“Where are your new clothes?” he asked mockingly.
+
+“I have none,” answered Joe.
+
+“Didn’t my father give you a suit of mine?”
+
+“He offered me the suit which you stained so badly with acid.”
+
+“Well, it’s pretty good,” said Oscar patronizingly. “I only wore it
+about a month.”
+
+“Why don’t you wear it longer?”
+
+“Because it isn’t fit for me to wear,” returned Oscar.
+
+“Nor for me,” said Joe.
+
+“You don’t mean to say you’ve declined?” exclaimed Oscar, in
+surprise.
+
+“That is exactly what I have done.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“You ought to know why.”
+
+“It is better than the one you have on.”
+
+“It is too small for me. Besides, it would attract general
+attention.”
+
+“Seems to me somebody is getting proud,” sneered Oscar. “Perhaps
+you think Annie Raymond wouldn’t walk with you in that suit?”
+
+“I think it would make no difference to her,” said Joe. “She was
+willing to walk with me in this ragged suit.”
+
+“I don’t admire her taste.”
+
+“She didn’t walk with my clothes; she walked with me.”
+
+“A hired boy!”
+
+“Yes, I am a hired boy; but I don’t get very good pay.”
+
+“You feel above your business, that’s what’s the matter with you.”
+
+“I hope some time to get higher than my business,” said Joe. “I
+mean to rise in the world, if I can.”
+
+Oscar shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Perhaps you would like to be a wealthy merchant, or a member of
+Congress,” he said.
+
+“I certainly should.”
+
+Oscar burst into a sneering laugh, and left Joe alone.
+
+Joe’s work was done, and, being left free to do as he liked, he
+strolled over to the village store.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE RETURNED CALIFORNIAN
+
+
+The village store, in the evening, was a sort of village
+club-house, where not only the loungers, but a better class, who
+desired to pass the evening socially, were wont to congregate.
+About the center of the open space was a large box-stove, which in
+winter was kept full of wood, ofttimes getting red-hot, and around
+this sat the villagers. Some on wooden chairs, some on a wooden
+settee, with a broken back, which was ranged on one side.
+
+Joe frequently came here in the evening to pass a social hour
+and kill time. At the house of Major Norton he had no company.
+Oscar felt above him, and did not deign to hold any intercourse
+with his father’s drudge, while the housekeeper--Major Norton
+being a widower--was busy about her own special work, and would
+have wondered at Joe if he had sought her company. I make this
+explanation because I do not wish it to be understood that Joe was
+a common village lounger, or loafer.
+
+When Joe entered the store he found the usual company present, but
+with one addition.
+
+This was Seth Larkin, who had just returned from California,
+whither he had gone eighteen months before, and was, of course, an
+object of great attention, and plied with numerous questions by his
+old acquaintances in regard to the land of promise in the far West,
+of which all had heard so much.
+
+It was in the fall of the year 1851, and so in the early days of
+California.
+
+Seth was speaking as Joe entered.
+
+“Is there gold in California?” repeated Seth, apparently in answer
+to a question. “I should say there was. Why, it’s chock full of it.
+People haven’t begun to find out the richness of the country. It’s
+the place for a poor man to go if he wants to become rich. What’s
+the prospects here? I ask any one of you. A man may go working and
+plodding from one year’s end to another and not have ten dollars at
+the end of it. There’s some here that know that I speak the truth.”
+
+“How much better can a man do in California?” asked Daniel Tompkins.
+
+“Well, Dan,” said Seth, “it depends on the kind of man he is. If
+he’s a man like you, that spends his money for rum as fast as he
+gets it, I should say it’s just as well to stay here. But if he’s
+willing to work hard, and to put by half he makes, he’s sure to
+do well, and he may get rich. Why, I knew a man that landed in
+California the same day that I did, went up to the mines, struck a
+vein, and--well, how much do you think that man is worth to-day?”
+
+“A thousand dollars?” suggested Dan Tompkins.
+
+“Why, I’m worth more than that myself, and I wasn’t lucky, and had
+the rheumatism for four months. You’ll have to go higher.”
+
+“Two thousand?” guessed Sam Stone.
+
+“We don’t make much account of two thousand dollars in the mines,
+Sam,” said Seth.
+
+“It’s of some account here,” said Sam. “I’ve been workin’ ten
+years, and I ain’t saved up a third of it.”
+
+“I don’t doubt it,” said Seth; “and it ain’t your fault, either.
+Money’s scarce round here, and farmin’ don’t pay. You know what I
+was workin’ at before I went out--in a shoe shop. I just about made
+a poor livin’, and that was all. I didn’t have money enough to pay
+my passage out, but I managed to borrow it. Well, it’s paid now,
+and I’ve got something left.”
+
+“You haven’t told us yet how much the man made that you was talkin’
+about,” said Tom Sutter. “It couldn’t be five thousand dollars,
+now, could it?”
+
+“I should say it could,” said Seth.
+
+“Was it any more?” inquired Dan Tompkins.
+
+“Well, boys, I s’pose I may as well tell you, and you may b’lieve
+it or not, just as you like. That man is worth twenty thousand
+dollars to-day.”
+
+There was a chorus of admiring ejaculations.
+
+“Twenty thousand dollars! Did you ever hear the like?”
+
+“Mind, boys, I don’t say it’s common to make so much money in so
+short a time. There isn’t one in ten does it, but some make even
+more. What I do say is, that a feller that’s industrious, and
+willin’ to work, an’ rough it, and save what he makes, is sure to
+do well, if he keeps well. That’s all a man has a right to expect,
+or to hope for.”
+
+“To be sure it is.”
+
+“What made you come home, Seth, if you were gettin’ on so well?”
+inquired one.
+
+“That’s a fair question,” said Seth, “and I’m willin’ to answer
+it. It was because of the rheumatics. I had ’em powerful bad at
+the mines, and I’ve come home to kinder recuperate, if that’s the
+right word. But I’m goin’ back ag’in, you may bet high on that. No
+more work in the shoe shop for me at the old rates. I don’t mean
+that I’d mind bein’ a manufacturer on a big scale. That’s a little
+more stiddy and easy than bein’ at the mines, but that takes more
+capital than I’ve got.”
+
+“How much does it cost to go out there?” asked Dan Tompkins.
+
+“More money than you can scare together, Dan. First-class, nigh on
+to three hundred dollars, I believe.”
+
+This statement rather dampened the ardor of more than one of the
+listeners. Three hundred dollars, or even two, were beyond the
+convenient reach of most of those present. They would have to
+mortgage their places to get it.
+
+“You can go second-class for a good deal less, and you can go round
+the Horn pretty cheap,” continued Seth.
+
+“How far away is Californy?” inquired Sam Stone.
+
+“By way of the isthmus, it must be as much as six thousand miles,
+and it’s twice as fur, I reckon, round the Horn. I don’t exactly
+know the distance.”
+
+“Then it’s farther away than Europe,” said Joe, who had been
+listening with eager interest.
+
+“Of course it is,” said Seth. “Why, that’s Joe Mason, isn’t it? How
+you’ve grown since I saw you.”
+
+“Do you think I have?” said Joe, pleased with the assurance.
+
+“To be sure you have. Why, you’re a big boy of your age. How old
+are you?”
+
+“Fifteen---nearly sixteen.”
+
+“That’s about what I thought. Where are you livin’ now, Joe?”
+
+“I’m working for Major Norton.”
+
+Seth burst into a laugh.
+
+“I warrant you haven’t made your fortune yet, Joe,” he said.
+
+“I haven’t made the first start yet toward it.”
+
+“And you won’t while you work for the major. How much does he pay
+you?”
+
+“Board and clothes.”
+
+“And them are the clothes?” said Seth, surveying Joe’s appearance
+critically.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I guess the major’s tailor’s bill won’t ruin him, then. Are they
+the best you’ve got?”
+
+“No; I’ve got a better suit for Sunday.”
+
+“Well, that’s something. You deserve to do better, Joe.”
+
+“I wish I could,” said Joe wistfully. “Is there any chance for a
+boy in California, Mr. Larkin?”
+
+“Call me Seth. It’s what I’m used to. I don’t often use the handle
+to my name. Well, there’s a chance for a boy, if he’s smart; but
+he’s got to work.”
+
+“I should be willing to do that.”
+
+“Then, if you ever get the chance, it won’t do you any harm to try
+your luck.”
+
+“How much did you say it costs to get there?”
+
+“Well, maybe you could get there for a hundred dollars, if you
+wasn’t particular how you went.”
+
+A hundred dollars! It might as well have been ten thousand, as far
+as Joe was concerned. He received no money wages, nor was he likely
+to as long as he remained in the major’s employ. There was a shoe
+shop in the village, where money wages were paid, but there was no
+vacancy; and, even if there were, Joe was quite unacquainted with
+the business, and it would be a good while before he could do any
+more than pay his expenses.
+
+Joe sighed as he thought how far away was the prospect of his
+being able to go to California. He could not help wishing that he
+were the possessor of the magic carpet mentioned in the Arabian
+tale, upon which the person seated had only to wish himself to be
+transported anywhere, and he was carried there in the twinkling of
+an eye.
+
+Joe walked home slowly, dreaming of the gold-fields on the other
+side of the continent, and wishing he were there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+JOE’S LEGACY
+
+
+The next day was Saturday. There was no school, but this did not
+lighten Joe’s labors, as he was kept at work on the farm all day.
+
+He was in the barn when Deacon Goodwin, a neighbor, drove up.
+
+Oscar was standing in front of the house, whittling out a cane from
+a stick he had cut in the woods.
+
+“Is Joe Mason at home?” the deacon inquired.
+
+Oscar looked up in surprise. Why should the deacon want Joe Mason?
+
+“I suppose he is,” drawled Oscar.
+
+“Don’t you know?”
+
+“Probably he is in the barn,” said Oscar indifferently.
+
+“Will you call him? I want to see him on business.”
+
+Oscar was still more surprised. He was curious about the business,
+but his pride revolted at the idea of being sent to summon Joe.
+
+“You’ll find him in the barn,” said he.
+
+“I don’t want to leave my horse,” said the deacon. “I will take it
+as a favor if you will call him.”
+
+Oscar hesitated. Finally he decided to go and then return to hear
+what business Joe and the deacon had together. He rather hoped that
+Joe had been trespassing on the deacon’s grounds, and was to be
+reprimanded.
+
+He opened the barn door and called out:
+
+“Deacon Goodwin wants you out at the gate.”
+
+Joe was as much surprised as Oscar.
+
+He followed Oscar to the front of the house and bade the deacon
+good morning.
+
+“Oscar tells me you want to see me,” he said.
+
+“Yes, Joe. Do you remember your Aunt Susan?”
+
+“My mother’s aunt?”
+
+“Yes; she’s dead and buried.”
+
+“She was pretty old,” said Joe.
+
+“The old lady had a small pension,” continued the deacon, “that
+just about kept her, but she managed to save a little out of it.
+When the funeral expenses were paid it was found that there were
+fifty-six dollars and seventy-five cents over.”
+
+“What’s going to be done with it?” he inquired.
+
+“She’s left it to you,” was the unexpected reply, “You was the
+nearest relation she had, and it was her wish that whatever was
+left should go to you.”
+
+“I’m very much obliged to her. I didn’t expect anything. I had
+almost forgotten I had a great-aunt.”
+
+“The money has been sent to me, Joe,” continued the deacon. “I’m
+ready to pay it over to you when you want it, but I hope you won’t
+spend it foolish.”
+
+“I don’t think I shall, Deacon Goodwin.”
+
+“It wouldn’t take long to spend it, Joe,” said the deacon. “Do you
+want me to keep it for you?”
+
+“I don’t know,” said Joe; “I haven’t had time to think. I’ll come
+round to-night and see you.”
+
+“Very well, Joseph. G’lang, Dobbin!” and the deacon started his old
+horse, who had completed his quarter century, along the road.
+
+Oscar had listened, not without interest, to the conversation.
+Though he was the son of a rich man, he had not at command so large
+a sum as his father’s hired boy had fallen heir to. On the whole,
+he respected Joe rather more than when he was altogether penniless.
+
+“You’re in luck, Joe,” said he graciously.
+
+“Yes,” said Joe. “It’s very unexpected.”
+
+“You might buy yourself a new suit of clothes.”
+
+“I don’t intend to do that.”
+
+“Why not? You were wishing for one yesterday.”
+
+“Because it is your father’s place to keep me in clothes. That’s
+the bargain I made with him.”
+
+“Perhaps you are right,” said Oscar.
+
+“I’ll tell you what you can do,” he said, after a pause.
+
+“What?”
+
+“You might buy a boat.”
+
+“I shouldn’t have any time to use it.”
+
+“You might go out with it in the evening. I would look after it in
+the daytime.”
+
+No doubt this arrangement would be satisfactory to Oscar, who would
+reap all the advantage, but Joe did not see it in a favorable light.
+
+“I don’t think I should care to buy a boat,” he said.
+
+“What do you say to buying a revolver?”
+
+“I think it would be better to put it on interest.”
+
+“You’d better get the good of it now. You might die and then what
+use would the money be?”
+
+On the way to the deacon’s Joe fell in with Seth Larkin.
+
+“Well, my boy, where are you bound?” asked Seth.
+
+“To collect my fortune,” said Joe.
+
+Seth asked for an explanation and received it.
+
+“I’m glad for you and I wish it were more.”
+
+“So do I,” said Joe.
+
+“What for? Anything particular?”
+
+“Yes; if it was enough, I would go to California.”
+
+“And you really want to go?”
+
+“Yes. I suppose fifty dollars wouldn’t be enough?”
+
+“No; it wouldn’t,” said Seth; “but I’ll tell you what you could do.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“Go to New York and keep yourself till you got a chance to work
+your passage round the Horn.”
+
+“So I might,” said Joe, brightening up.
+
+“It wouldn’t be easy, but you wouldn’t mind that.”
+
+“No; I wouldn’t mind that.”
+
+“Well, if you decide to go, come round and see me to-morrow, and
+I’ll give you the best advice I can.”
+
+The deacon opposed Joe’s plan, but in vain. Our hero had made up
+his mind. Finally the old man counted out the money and Joe put it
+in an old wallet.
+
+The next thing was to give Major Norton warning.
+
+“Major Norton,” said Joe, “I should like to have you get another
+boy in my place.”
+
+“What, Joe?” exclaimed the major.
+
+“I am going to leave town.”
+
+“Where are you going?” asked his employer.
+
+“First to New York and afterwards to California.”
+
+“Well, I declare! Is it because you ain’t satisfied with your
+clothes?”
+
+“No, sir. I don’t see much prospect for me if I stay here and I
+have heard a good deal about California.”
+
+“But you haven’t got any money.”
+
+“I have almost sixty dollars.”
+
+“Oh, yes; Oscar told me. You’d better stay here.”
+
+“No, sir; I have made up my mind.”
+
+“You’ll come back in a month without a cent.”
+
+“If I do, I’ll go to work again for you.”
+
+Monday morning came. Clad in his Sunday suit of cheap and rough
+cloth, Joe stood on the platform at the depot. The cars came up, he
+jumped aboard, and his heart beat with exultation as he reflected
+that he had taken the first step toward the Land of Gold.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+AT THE COMMERCIAL HOTEL
+
+
+Joe had never been in New York and when he arrived the bustle and
+confusion at first bewildered him.
+
+“Have a hack, young man?” inquired a jehu.
+
+“What’ll you charge?”
+
+“A dollar and a half, and half-a-dollar for your baggage.”
+
+“This is all the baggage I have,” said Joe, indicating a bundle
+tied in a red cotton handkerchief.
+
+“Then, I’ll only charge a dollar and a half,” said the hackman.
+
+“I’ll walk,” said Joe. “I can’t afford to pay a dollar and a half.”
+
+“You can’t walk; it’s too far.”
+
+“How far is it?”
+
+“Ten miles, more or less,” answered the hackman.
+
+“Then I shall save fifteen cents a mile,” said Joe, not much
+alarmed, for he did not believe the statement.
+
+“If you lose your way, don’t blame me.”
+
+Joe made his way out of the crowd, and paused at the corner of the
+next street for reflection. Finally he stopped at an apple and
+peanut stand, and, as a matter of policy, purchased an apple.
+
+“I am from the country,” he said, “and I want to find a cheap
+hotel. Can you recommend one to me?”
+
+“Yes,” said the peanut merchant. “I know of one where they charge a
+dollar a day.”
+
+“Is that cheap? What do they charge at the St. Nicholas?”
+
+“Two dollars a day.”
+
+“A day?” asked Joe, in amazement.
+
+It must be remembered that this was over fifty years ago. Joe would
+have greater cause to be startled at the prices now asked at our
+fashionable hotels.
+
+“Well, you can go to the cheap hotel.”
+
+“Where is it?”
+
+The requisite directions were given. It was the Commercial Hotel,
+located in a down-town street.
+
+The Commercial Hotel, now passed away, or doing business under a
+changed name, was not a stylish inn.
+
+It was rather dark and rather dingy, but Joe did not notice that
+particularly. He had never seen a fine hotel, and this structure,
+being four stories in height above the offices, seemed to him
+rather imposing than otherwise.
+
+He walked up to the desk, on which was spread out, wide open, the
+hotel register. Rather a dissipated-looking clerk stood behind the
+counter, picking his teeth.
+
+“Good morning, sir,” said Joe politely. “What do you charge to stay
+here?”
+
+“A dollar a day,” answered the clerk.
+
+“Can you give me a room?”
+
+“I guess so, my son. Where is your trunk?”
+
+“I haven’t got any.”
+
+“Haven’t you got any baggage?”
+
+“Here it is.”
+
+The clerk looked rather superciliously at the small bundle.
+
+“Then you’ll have to pay in advance.”
+
+“All right,” said Joe. “I’ll pay a day in advance.”
+
+A freckle-faced boy was summoned, provided with the key of No. 161,
+and Joe was directed to follow him.
+
+“Shall I take your bundle?” he asked.
+
+“No, thank you. I can carry it myself.”
+
+They went up-stairs, until Joe wondered when they were going to
+stop. Finally the boy paused at the top floor, for the very good
+reason that he could get no higher, and opened the door of 161.
+
+“There you are,” said the boy. “Is there anything else you want?”
+
+“No, thank you.”
+
+“I’m sorry there ain’t a bureau to keep your clothes,” said the
+freckle-faced boy, glancing at Joe’s small bundle with a smile.
+
+“It is inconvenient,” answered Joe, taking the joke.
+
+“You wouldn’t like some hot water for shaving, would you?” asked
+the boy, with a grin.
+
+“You can have some put on to heat and I’ll order it when my beard
+is grown,” said Joe good-naturedly.
+
+“All right. I’ll tell ’em to be sure and have it ready in two or
+three years.”
+
+“That will be soon enough. You’d better order some for yourself at
+the same time.”
+
+“Oh, I get in hot water every day.”
+
+The freckle-faced boy disappeared, and Joe sat down on the bed, to
+reflect a little on his position and plans.
+
+So here he was in New York, and on the way to California, too--that
+is, he hoped so. How much can happen in a little while. Three days
+before he had not dreamed of any change in his position.
+
+“I hope I shan’t have to go back again to Oakville. I won’t go
+unless I am obliged to,” he determined.
+
+He washed his hands and face, and went down-stairs. He found that
+dinner was just ready. It was not a luxurious meal, but, compared
+with the major’s rather frugal table, there was great variety and
+luxury. Joe did justice to it.
+
+“Folks live better in the city than they do in the country,” he
+thought; “but, then, they have to pay for it. A dollar a day! Why,
+that would make three hundred and sixty-five dollars a year!”
+
+This to Joe seemed a very extravagant sum to spend on one person’s
+board and lodging.
+
+“Now,” thought Joe, after dinner was over, “the first thing for me
+to find out is when the California steamer starts and what is the
+lowest price I can go for.”
+
+In the barroom Joe found a file of two of the New York daily
+papers, and began to search for the advertisement of the California
+steamers.
+
+At last he found it.
+
+The steamer was to start in three days. Apply for passage and any
+information at the company’s offices.
+
+“I’ll go right down there, and find out whether I’ve got money
+enough to take me,” Joe decided.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+JOE BUYS A TICKET
+
+
+The office of the steamer was on the wharf from which it was to
+start. Already a considerable amount of freight was lying on the
+wharf ready to be loaded. Joe made his way to the office.
+
+“Well, boy, what’s your business?” inquired a stout man with a red
+face, who seemed to be in charge.
+
+“Is this the office of the California steamer, sir?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What is the lowest price for passage?”
+
+“A hundred dollars for the steerage.”
+
+When Joe heard this his heart sank within him. It seemed to be the
+death-blow to his hopes. He had but fifty dollars, or thereabouts,
+and there was no chance whatever of getting the extra fifty.
+
+“Couldn’t I pay you fifty dollars now and the rest as soon as I can
+earn it in California?” he pleaded.
+
+“We don’t do business in that way.”
+
+“I’d be sure to pay it, sir, if I lived,” said Joe. “Perhaps you
+think I am not honest.”
+
+“I don’t know whether you are or not,” said the agent cavalierly.
+“We never do business in that way.”
+
+Joe left the office not a little disheartened.
+
+“I wish it had been a hundred dollars Aunt Susan left me,” he said
+to himself.
+
+Joe’s spirits were elastic, however. He remembered that Seth had
+never given him reason to suppose that the money he had would pay
+his passage by steamer. He had mentioned working his passage in
+a sailing-vessel round the Horn. Joe did not like that idea so
+well, as the voyage would probably last four months, instead of
+twenty-five days, and so delay his arrival.
+
+The afternoon slipped away almost without Joe’s knowledge. He
+walked about, here and there, gazing with curious eyes at the
+streets, and warehouses, and passing vehicles, and thinking what
+a lively place New York was, and how different life was in the
+metropolis from what it had been to him in the quiet country town
+which had hitherto been his home. Somehow it seemed to wake Joe up,
+and excite his ambition, to give him a sense of power which he had
+never felt before.
+
+“If I could only get a foothold here,” thought Joe, “I should be
+willing to work twice as hard as I did on the farm.”
+
+This was what Joe thought. I don’t say that he was correct. There
+are many country boys who make a mistake in coming to the city.
+They forsake quiet, comfortable homes, where they have all they
+need, to enter some city counting-room, or store, at starvation
+wages, with, at best, a very remote prospect of advancement and
+increased risk of falling a prey to temptation in some of the
+many forms which it assumes in a populous town. A boy needs to be
+strong, and self-reliant, and willing to work if he comes to the
+city to compete for the prizes of life. As the story proceeds, we
+shall learn whether Joe had these necessary qualifications.
+
+When supper was over he went into the public room of the Commercial
+Hotel, and took up a paper to read. There was a paragraph about
+California, and some recent discoveries there, which he read with
+avidity.
+
+Though Joe was not aware of it, he was closely observed by a
+dark-complexioned man, dressed in rather a flashy manner. When our
+hero laid down the paper this man commenced a conversation.
+
+“I take it you are a stranger in the city, my young friend?” he
+observed, in an affable manner.
+
+“Yes, sir,” answered Joe, rather glad to have some one to speak to.
+“I only arrived this morning.”
+
+“Indeed! May I ask from what part of the country you come?”
+
+“From Oakville, New Jersey.”
+
+“Indeed! I know the place. It is quite a charming town.”
+
+“I don’t know about that,” said Joe. “It’s pretty quiet and
+dull--nothing going on.”
+
+“So you have come to the city to try your luck?”
+
+“I want to go to California.”
+
+“Oh, I see--to the gold-diggings.”
+
+“Have you ever been there, sir?”
+
+“No; but I have had many friends go there. When do you expect to
+start?”
+
+“Why, that is what puzzles me,” Joe replied frankly. “I may not be
+able to go at all.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I haven’t got money enough to buy a ticket.”
+
+“You have got some money, haven’t you?”
+
+“Yes--I have fifty dollars; but I need that a hundred dollars is
+the lowest price for a ticket.”
+
+“Don’t be discouraged, my young friend,” said the stranger, in
+the most friendly manner. “I am aware that the ordinary charge
+for a steerage ticket is one hundred dollars, but exceptions are
+sometimes made.”
+
+“I don’t think they will make one in my case,” said Joe. “I told
+the agent I would agree to pay the other, half as soon as I earned
+it, but he said he didn’t do business in that way.”
+
+“Of course. You are a stranger to him, don’t you see? That makes
+all the difference in the world. Now, I happen to be personally
+acquainted with him. I am sure he would do me a favor. Just give me
+the fifty dollars, and I’ll warrant I’ll get the ticket for you.”
+
+Joe was not wholly without caution, and the thought of parting with
+his money to a stranger didn’t strike him favorably. Not that he
+had any doubts as to his new friend’s integrity, but it didn’t seem
+businesslike.
+
+“Can’t I go with you to the office?” he suggested.
+
+“I think I can succeed better in the negotiation if I am alone,”
+said the stranger. “I’ll tell you what--you needn’t hand me the
+money, provided you agree to take the ticket off my hands at fifty
+dollars if I secure it.”
+
+“Certainly I will, and be very thankful to you.”
+
+“I always like to help young men along,” said the stranger
+benevolently. “I’ll see about it to-morrow. Now, where can I meet
+you?”
+
+“In this room. How will that do?”
+
+“Perfectly. I am sure I can get the ticket for you. Be sure to have
+the money ready.”
+
+“I’ll be sure,” said Joe cheerfully.
+
+“And hark you, my young friend,” continued the stranger, “don’t say
+a word to any one of what I am going to do for you, or I might have
+other applications, which I should be obliged to refuse.”
+
+“Very well, sir. I will remember.”
+
+Punctually at four the next day the stranger entered the room,
+where Joe was already awaiting him.
+
+“Have you succeeded?” asked Joe eagerly.
+
+The stranger nodded.
+
+“Let us go up to your room and complete our business. For reasons
+which I have already mentioned, I prefer that the transaction
+should be secret.”
+
+“All right, sir.”
+
+Joe got his key, and led the way up-stairs.
+
+“I had a little difficulty with the agent,” said the stranger; “but
+finally he yielded, out of old friendship.” He produced a large
+card, which read thus:
+
+                   =CALIFORNIA STEAMSHIP COMPANY.
+                            THE BEARER
+                Is Entitled to One Steerage Passage
+                               FROM
+                     NEW YORK TO SAN FRANCISCO
+                         STEAMER COLUMBUS.=
+
+Below this was printed the name of the agent. Joe paid over the
+money joyfully.
+
+“I am very much obliged to you,” he said gratefully.
+
+“Don’t mention it,” said the stranger, pocketing the fifty dollars.
+“Good day! Sorry to leave you, but I am to meet a gentleman at
+five.”
+
+He went down-stairs, and left Joe alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+JOE GETS INTO TROUBLE
+
+
+“How lucky I have been,” thought Joe, in the best of spirits.
+“There wasn’t one chance in ten of my succeeding, and yet I have
+succeeded. Everything has turned out right. If I hadn’t met this
+man, I couldn’t have got a ticket at half price.”
+
+Joe found that after paying his hotel expenses, he should have a
+dollar left over. This would be rather a small sum to start with in
+California, but Joe didn’t trouble himself much about that.
+
+In the course of the day Joe found himself in the upper part of
+the Bowery. It seemed to him a very lively street, and he was much
+interested in looking in at the shop windows as he passed.
+
+He was standing before a window, when a stone from some quarter
+struck the pane and shivered it in pieces.
+
+Joe was startled, and was gazing at the scene of havoc in
+bewilderment, when a stout German, the proprietor, rushed out and
+seized him by the collar.
+
+“Aha! I have you, you young rascal!” he exclaimed furiously. “I’ll
+make you pay for this!”
+
+By this time Joe had recovered his senses.
+
+“Let me alone!” he exclaimed.
+
+“I let you know!” exclaimed the angry man. “You break my window!
+You pay me five dollar pretty quick, or I send you to prison!”
+
+“I didn’t break your window! It’s a lie!”
+
+“You tell me I lie?” shouted the angry German. “First you break my
+window, then you tell me I lie! You, one bad boy--you one loafer!”
+
+“I don’t know who broke your window,” said Joe, “but I tell you I
+didn’t. I was standing here, looking in, when, all at once, I heard
+a crash.”
+
+“You take me for one fool, perhaps,” said his captor, puffing with
+excitement. “You want to get away, hey?”
+
+“Yes, I do.”
+
+“And get no money for my window?”
+
+By this time a crowd had collected around the chief actors in this
+scene. They were divided in opinion.
+
+“Don’t he look wicked, the young scamp?” said a thin-visaged female
+with a long neck.
+
+“Yes,” said her companion. “He’s one of them street rowdies that go
+around doin’ mischief. They come around and pull my bell, and run
+away, the villians!”
+
+“What’s the matter, my boy?” asked a tall man with sandy hair,
+addressing himself to Joe in a friendly tone.
+
+“This man says I broke his window.”
+
+“How was it? Did you break it?”
+
+“No, sir. I was standing looking in, when a stone came from
+somewhere and broke it.”
+
+“Look here, sir,” said the sandy-haired man, addressing himself
+to the German, “what reason have you for charging this boy with
+breaking your window?”
+
+“He stood shoost in front of it,” said the German.
+
+“If he had broken it, he would have run away. Didn’t that occur to
+you?”
+
+“Some one broke mine window,” said the German.
+
+“Of course; but a boy who threw a stone must do so from a distance,
+and he wouldn’t be likely to run up at once to the broken window.”
+
+“Of course not. The man’s a fool!” were the uncomplimentary remarks
+of the bystanders, who a minute before had looked upon Joe as
+undoubtedly guilty.
+
+“You’ve got no case at all,” said Joe’s advocate. “Let go the
+boy’s collar, or I shall advise him to charge you with assault and
+battery.”
+
+“Maybe you one friend of his?” said the German.
+
+“I never saw the boy before in my life,” said the other, “but I
+don’t want him falsely accused.”
+
+“Somebody must pay for my window.”
+
+“That’s fair; but it must be the boy or man that broke it, not my
+young friend here, who had no more to do with it than myself. I
+sympathize with you, and wish you could catch the scamp that did
+it.”
+
+At that moment a policeman came up.
+
+“What’s the matter?” he asked.
+
+“My window was broke--dat’s what’s de matter.”
+
+“Who broke it?” asked the policeman.
+
+“I caught dat boy standing outside,” pointing to Joe.
+
+“Aha, you young rascal! I’ve caught you, have I? I’ve had my eye on
+you for weeks!”
+
+And Joe, to his dismay, found himself collared anew.
+
+“I’ve only been in the city two days,” said Joe.
+
+“Take him to jail!” exclaimed the German.
+
+And the policeman was about to march off poor Joe, when a voice of
+authority stayed him.
+
+“Officer, release that boy!” said the sandy-haired man sternly.
+
+“I’ll take you along, too, if you interfere.”
+
+“Release that boy!” repeated the other sternly; “and arrest the
+German for assault and battery. I charge him with assaulting this
+boy!”
+
+“Who are you?” demanded the officer insolently.
+
+“My name is ----, and I am one of the new police commissioners,”
+said the sandy-haired man quietly.
+
+Never was there a quicker change from insolence to fawning.
+
+“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir,” said the officer, instantly releasing
+Joe. “I didn’t know you.”
+
+“Nor your duty, either, it appears,” said the commissioner sternly.
+“Without one word of inquiry into the circumstances, you were about
+to arrest this boy. A pretty minister of justice you are!”
+
+“Shall I take this man along, sir?” asked the policeman, quite
+subdued.
+
+At this suggestion the bulky Teuton hurried into his shop,
+trembling with alarm. With great difficulty he concealed himself
+under the counter.
+
+“You may let him go this time. He has some excuse for his conduct,
+having suffered loss by the breaking of his window. As for you,
+officer, unless you are more careful in future, you will not long
+remain a member of the force.”
+
+The crowd disappeared, only Joe and his advocate remaining behind.
+
+“I am grateful to you, sir, for your kindness,” said Joe. “But for
+you I should have been carried to the station-house.”
+
+“It is fortunate I came along just as I did. Are you a stranger in
+the city?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“You must be careful not to run into danger. There are many perils
+in the city for the inexperienced.”
+
+“Thank you, sir. I shall remember your advice.”
+
+The next day, about two hours before the time of sailing, Joe went
+down to the wharf.
+
+As he was going on board a man stopped him.
+
+“Have you got a ticket?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Joe, “a steerage ticket. There it is.”
+
+“Where did you get this?” asked the man.
+
+Joe told him.
+
+“How much did you pay for it?”
+
+“Fifty dollars.”
+
+“Then you have lost your money, for it is a bogus ticket. You can’t
+travel on it.”
+
+Joe stared at the other in blank dismay. The earth seemed to be
+sinking under him. He realized that he had been outrageously
+swindled, and that he was farther from going to California than
+ever.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+JOE’S LUCK CHANGES
+
+
+The intelligence that his ticket was valueless came to Joe like
+a thunderbolt from a clear sky. The minute before he was in high
+spirits--his prospects seemed excellent and his path bright.
+
+“What shall I do?” he ejaculated.
+
+“I can’t tell you,” said the officer. “One thing is clear--you
+can’t go to California on that ticket.”
+
+Poor Joe! For the moment hope was dead within his breast. He had
+but one dollar left and that was only half the amount necessary
+to carry him back to the village where we found him at the
+commencement of our story. Even if he were able to go back, he felt
+he would be ashamed to report the loss of his money. The fact that
+he had allowed himself to be swindled mortified him not a little.
+He would never hear the last of it if he returned to Oakville.
+
+“No; I wouldn’t go back if I could,” he decided.
+
+“Wouldn’t I like to get hold of the man that sold me the ticket!”
+
+He had hardly given mental expression to this wish when it was
+gratified. The very man passed him and was about to cross the
+gangplank into the steamer. Joe’s eyes flashed, and he sprang
+forward and seized the man by the arm.
+
+The swindler’s countenance changed when he recognized Joe, but he
+quickly decided upon his course.
+
+“What do you want, Johnny?” he asked composedly.
+
+“What do I want? I want my fifty dollars back.”
+
+“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
+
+“You sold me a bogus ticket for fifty dollars,” said Joe stoutly.
+“Here it is. Take it back and give me my money.”
+
+“The boy must be crazy,” said the swindler.
+
+“Did you sell him that ticket?” inquired the officer.
+
+“Never saw him before in my life.”
+
+“Ain’t you mistaken, boy?” asked the officer.
+
+“No, sir. This is the very man.”
+
+“Have you any business here?” asked the officer.
+
+“Yes,” said the man; “I’ve taken a steerage ticket to San
+Francisco. Here it is.”
+
+“All right. Go in.”
+
+He tore himself from Joe’s grasp and went on board the steamer. Our
+hero, provoked, was about to follow him, when the officer said:
+
+“Stand back! You have no ticket.”
+
+“That man bought his ticket with my money.”
+
+“That is nothing to me,” said the officer. “It may be so, or you
+may be mistaken.”
+
+“I am not mistaken,” said Joe.
+
+“You can report it to the police--that is, if you think you can
+prove it. Now, stand back!”
+
+Poor Joe! He had been worsted in the encounter with this
+arch-swindler. He would sail for San Francisco on the Columbus.
+Perhaps he would make his fortune there, while Joe, whom he had so
+swindled, might, within three days, be reduced to beggary.
+
+Joe felt that his confidence in human nature was badly shaken.
+Injustice and fraud seemed to have the best of it in this world, so
+far as his experience went, and it really seemed as if dishonesty
+were the best policy. It is a hard awakening for a trusting boy,
+when he first comes in contact with selfishness and corruption.
+
+Joe fell back because he was obliged to. He looked around, hoping
+that he might somewhere see a policeman, for he wanted to punish
+the scoundrel to whom he owed his unhappiness and loss. But, as
+frequently happens, when an officer is wanted none is to be seen.
+
+Joe did not leave the wharf. Time was not of much value to him, and
+he decided that he might as well remain and see the steamer start
+on which he had fondly hoped to be a passenger.
+
+Meanwhile, the preparations for departure went steadily forward.
+Trunks arrived and were conveyed on board; passengers, accompanied
+by their friends, came, and all was hurry and bustle.
+
+Two young men, handsomely dressed and apparently possessed of
+larger means than the great majority of the passengers, got out of
+a hack and paused close to where Joe was standing.
+
+“Dick,” said one, “I’m really sorry you are not going with me. I
+shall feel awfully lonely without you.”
+
+“I am very much disappointed, Charlie, but duty will keep me at
+home. My father’s sudden, alarming sickness has broken up all my
+plans.”
+
+“Yes, Dick, of course you can’t go.”
+
+“If my father should recover, in a few weeks, I will come out and
+join you, Charlie.”
+
+“I hope you may be able to, Dick. By the way, how about your
+ticket?”
+
+“I shall have to lose it, unless the company will give me another
+in place of it.”
+
+“They ought to do it.”
+
+“Yes, but they are rather stiff about it. I would sell it for a
+hundred dollars.”
+
+Joe heard this and his heart beat high.
+
+He pressed forward, and said eagerly:
+
+“Will you sell it to me for that?”
+
+The young man addressed as Dick looked, in surprise, at the poorly
+dressed boy who had addressed him.
+
+“Do you want to go to California?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Joe. “I am very anxious to go.”
+
+“Do I understand you to offer a hundred dollars for my ticket?”
+
+“Yes, sir; but I can’t pay you now.”
+
+“When do you expect to be able to pay me, then?”
+
+“Not till I’ve earned the money in California.”
+
+“Have you thought before of going?”
+
+“Yes, sir. Until an hour ago I thought that it was all arranged
+that I should go. I came down here and found that the ticket I had
+bought was a bogus one, and that I had been swindled out of my
+money.”
+
+“That was a mean trick,” said Dick Scudder indignantly. “Do you
+know the man that cheated you?”
+
+“Yes; he is on board the steamer.”
+
+“How much money have you got left?”
+
+“A dollar.”
+
+“Only a dollar? And you are not afraid to land in California with
+this sum?”
+
+“No, sir. I shall go to work at once.”
+
+“Charlie,” said Dick, turning to his friend, “I will do as you say.
+Are you willing to take this boy into your stateroom in my place?”
+
+“Yes,” said Charles Folsom promptly. “He looks like a good boy. I
+accept him as my roommate.”
+
+“All right,” said the other. “My boy, what is your name?”
+
+“Joe Mason.”
+
+“Well, Joe, here is my ticket. If you are ever able to pay a
+hundred dollars for this ticket, you may pay it to my friend,
+Charles Folsom. Now, I advise you both to be getting aboard, as it
+is nearly time for the steamer to sail. I won’t go on with you,
+Charlie, as I must go back to my father’s bedside.”
+
+“Good-by, sir. God bless you!” said Joe gratefully. “Good-by, Joe,
+and good luck!”
+
+As they went over the plank, the officer, recognizing Joe, said
+roughly:
+
+“Stand back, boy! Didn’t I tell you you couldn’t go aboard without
+a ticket?”
+
+“Here is my ticket,” said Joe.
+
+“A first-class ticket!” exclaimed the officer, in amazement. “Where
+did you get it?”
+
+“I bought it,” answered Joe.
+
+“I shall go to California, after all!” thought our hero exultingly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE FIRST DAY ON BOARD
+
+
+“We will look up our stateroom first, Joe,” said his new friend.
+“It ought to be a good one.”
+
+The stateroom proved to be No. 16, very well located and spacious
+for a stateroom. But to Joe it seemed very small for two persons.
+He was an inexperienced traveler and did not understand that life
+on board ship is widely different from life on shore. His companion
+had been to Europe and was used to steamer life.
+
+“I think, Joe,” said he, “that I shall put you in the top berth.
+The lower berth is considered more desirable, but I claim it on the
+score of age and infirmity.”
+
+“You don’t look very old, or infirm,” said Joe.
+
+“I am twenty-three. And you?”
+
+“Fifteen--nearly sixteen.”
+
+“I have a stateroom trunk, which will just slip in under my berth.
+Where is your luggage?”
+
+Joe looked embarrassed.
+
+“I don’t know but you will feel ashamed of me,” he said; “but the
+only extra clothes I have are tied up in this handkerchief.”
+
+Charles Folsom whistled.
+
+“Well,” said he, “you are poorly provided. What have you got
+inside?”
+
+“A couple of shirts, three collars, two handkerchiefs, and a pair
+of stockings.”
+
+“And you are going a journey of thousands of miles! But never
+mind,” he said kindly. “I am not much larger than you, and, if you
+need it, I can lend you. Once in California, you will have less
+trouble than if you were loaded down with clothes. I must get you
+to tell me your story when there is time.”
+
+They came on deck just in time to see the steamer swing out of the
+dock.
+
+There were some of the passengers with sober faces. They had
+bidden farewell to friends and relatives whom they might not see
+for years--perhaps never again. They were going to a new country,
+where hardships undoubtedly awaited them, and where they must take
+their chances of health and success. Some, too, feared seasickness,
+a malady justly dreaded by all who have ever felt its prostrating
+effects. But Joe only felt joyful exhilaration.
+
+“You look happy, Joe,” said young Folsom.
+
+“I feel so,” said Joe.
+
+“Are you hoping to make your fortune in California?”
+
+“I am hoping to make a living,” said Joe.
+
+“Didn’t you make a living here at home?”
+
+“A poor living, with no prospects ahead. I didn’t mind hard work
+and poor clothes, if there had been a prospect of something better
+by and by.”
+
+“Tell me your story. Where were you living?” Charles Folsom
+listened attentively.
+
+“Major Norton didn’t appear disposed to pamper you, or bring you
+up in luxury, that’s a fact. It would have been hard lines if, on
+account of losing your aunt’s legacy, you had been compelled to go
+back to Oakville.”
+
+“I wouldn’t have gone,” said Joe resolutely.
+
+“What would you have done?”
+
+“Stayed in New York, and got a living somehow, even if I had to
+black boots in the street.”
+
+“I guess you’ll do. You’ve got the right spirit. It takes boys and
+men like you for pioneers.”
+
+Joe was gratified at his companion’s approval.
+
+“Now,” said Folsom, “I may as well tell you my story. I am the
+son of a New York merchant who is moderately rich. I entered the
+counting-room at seventeen, and have remained there ever since,
+with the exception of four months spent in Europe.”
+
+“If you are rich already, why do you go out to California?” asked
+Joe.
+
+“I am not going to the mines; I am going to prospect a little for
+the firm. Some day San Francisco will be a large city. I am going
+to see how soon it will pay for our house to establish a branch
+there.”
+
+“I see,” said Joe.
+
+“I shall probably go out to the mines and take a general survey of
+the country; but, as you see, I do not go out to obtain employment.”
+
+“It must be jolly not to have to work,” said Joe, “but to have
+plenty of money to pay your expenses.”
+
+“Well, I suppose it is convenient. I believe you haven’t a large
+cash surplus?”
+
+“I have a dollar.”
+
+“You’ve got some pluck to travel so far away from home with such a
+slender capital, by Jove!”
+
+“I don’t know that it’s pluck. It’s necessity.”
+
+“Something of both, perhaps. Don’t you feel afraid of what may
+happen?”
+
+“No,” said Joe. “California is a new country, and there must be
+plenty of work. Now, I am willing to work and I don’t believe I
+shall starve.”
+
+“That’s the way to feel, Joe. At the worst, you have me to fall
+back upon. I won’t see you suffer.”
+
+“It is very lucky for me. I hope I shan’t give you any trouble.”
+
+“If you do, I’ll tell you of it,” said Folsom, laughing. “The fact
+is, I feel rather as if I were your guardian. An odd feeling that,
+as hitherto I have been looked after by others. Now it is my turn
+to assume authority.”
+
+“You will find me obedient,” said Joe, smiling. “Seriously, I am so
+inexperienced in the way of the world that I shall consider it a
+great favor if you will give me any hints you may think useful to
+me.”
+
+Folsom became more and more pleased with his young charge. He saw
+that he was manly, amiable, and of good principles, with only one
+great fault--poverty--which he was quite willing to overlook.
+
+They selected their seats in the saloon, and were fortunate enough
+to be assigned to the captain’s table. Old travelers know that
+those who sit at this table are likely to fare better than those
+who are farther removed.
+
+While Folsom was walking the deck with an old friend, whom he had
+found among the passengers, Joe went on an exploring expedition.
+
+He made his way to that portion of the deck appropriated to the
+steerage passengers. Among them his eye fell on the man who
+swindled him.
+
+“You here!” exclaimed the fellow in amazement.
+
+“Yes,” said Joe, “I am here.”
+
+“I thought you said your ticket wasn’t good?”
+
+“It wasn’t, as you very well know.”
+
+“I don’t know anything about it. How did you smuggle yourself
+aboard?”
+
+“I didn’t smuggle myself aboard at all. I came on like the rest of
+the passengers.”
+
+“Why haven’t I seen you before?”
+
+“I am not a steerage passenger. I am traveling first-class.”
+
+“You don’t mean it!” ejaculated the fellow, thoroughly astonished.
+“You told me you hadn’t any more money.”
+
+“So I did, and that shows that you were the man that sold me the
+bogus ticket.”
+
+“Nothing of the kind,” said the other, but he seemed taken aback
+by Joe’s charge. “Well, all I can say is, that you know how to get
+round. When a man or boy can travel first-class without a cent of
+money, he’ll do.”
+
+“I wouldn’t have come at all if I had had to swindle a poor boy out
+of his money,” said Joe.
+
+Joe walked off without receiving an answer. He took pains to
+ascertain the name of the man who had defrauded him. He was entered
+on the passenger-list as Henry Hogan.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE DETECTED THIEF
+
+
+“Do you expect to be seasick, Joe?”
+
+“I don’t know, Mr. Folsom. This is the first time I have ever been
+at sea.”
+
+“I have crossed the Atlantic twice, and been sick each time. I
+suppose I have a tendency that way.”
+
+“How does it feel?” asked Joe curiously.
+
+Folsom laughed.
+
+“It cannot be described,” he answered.
+
+“Then I would rather remain ignorant,” said Joe.
+
+“You are right. This is a case where ignorance is bliss decidedly.”
+
+Twenty-four hours out Folsom’s anticipations were realized. He
+experienced nausea and his head swam.
+
+Returning from a walk on deck, Joe found his guardian lying down in
+the stateroom.
+
+“Is anything the matter, Mr. Folsom?”
+
+“Nothing but what I expected. The demon of the sea has me in his
+gripe.”
+
+“Can I do anything for you?”
+
+“Nothing at present, Joe. What art can minister to a stomach
+diseased? I must wait patiently, and it will wear off. Don’t you
+feel any of the symptoms?”
+
+“Oh, no--I feel bully,” said Joe. “I’ve got a capital appetite.”
+
+“I hope you will be spared. It would be dismal for both of us to be
+groaning with seasickness.”
+
+“Shall I stay with you?”
+
+“No--go on deck. That is the best way to keep well. My sickness
+won’t last more than a day or two.”
+
+The young man’s expectations were realized. After forty-eight hours
+he recovered from his temporary indisposition and reappeared on
+deck.
+
+He found that his young companion, had made a number of
+acquaintances, and had become a general favorite through his frank
+and pleasant manners.
+
+“I think you’ll get on, Joe,” said he. “You make friends easily.”
+
+“I try to do it,” said Joe modestly.
+
+“You are fast getting over your country greenness. Of course you
+couldn’t help having a share of it, having never lived outside of a
+small country village.”
+
+“I am glad you think so, Mr. Folsom. I suppose I was very green and
+I haven’t got over it yet, but in six months I hope to get rid of
+it wholly.”
+
+“It won’t take six months at the rate you are advancing.”
+
+Day succeeded day and Joe was not sick at all. He carried a good
+appetite to every meal and entered into the pleasures of sea life
+with zest. He played shuffle-board on deck, guessed daily the
+ship’s run, was on the alert for distant sails, and managed in one
+way or another to while away the time cheerfully.
+
+They had got into the Gulf of Mexico, when, one day, there was an
+unwonted commotion in the steerage.
+
+A poor German had lost forty dollars, the entire capital he was
+carrying with him to the new country.
+
+“Some tief has rob me,” he complained, in accents of mingled grief
+and anger. “He has rob me of all my gold. He has not left me one
+cent.”
+
+“When did you miss the money?” inquired the first officer.
+
+“Just now,” said the poor German.
+
+“When did you see it last?”
+
+“Last night when I went to mine bed.”
+
+“Did you take off your clothes?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“What men sleep near you?”
+
+The German pointed to two. The first was a German.
+
+“But he would not rob me. He is mine friend,” he said. “He is
+Fritz.”
+
+“Who is the other man?”
+
+The German pointed to Henry Hogan, the same man who had defrauded
+Joe.
+
+“The man’s a fool,” said Hogan. “Does he mean to say a gentleman
+like me would steal his paltry money?”
+
+“He hasn’t said so,” said the first officer quietly. “He only said
+that you slept near him.”
+
+“He’d better not accuse me,” blustered Hogan.
+
+The officer was a judge of human nature, and Hogan’s manner and
+words made him suspect that he was really the guilty party.
+
+“My man,” said he, “you are making a fuss before you are accused.
+No charge has been made against you. The man’s money has been
+taken, and some one must have taken it.”
+
+“I don’t believe he ever had any,” said Hogan.
+
+“Can you prove that you had the money?” asked the officer,
+addressing the German. “Has any one on board seen it in your
+possession?”
+
+An Irishman named Riley came forward.
+
+“That can I do,” said he. “It was only yesterday morning that I saw
+the man counting his money.”
+
+“In what denomination was the money?”
+
+Pat Riley scratched his head.
+
+“Sure I didn’t know that money belonged to any denomination, sir.”
+
+The officer smiled.
+
+“I mean, was it in five, or ten, or twenty dollar pieces.”
+
+“There was four tens, sir--four gould eagles.”
+
+“Is that right?” inquired the officer, turning to the German.
+
+“Yes, sir, that’s what I had.”
+
+“Then,” said the officer, “it seems clearly proved that our German
+friend here had the money he claims. Now, I suggest that the two
+men he has said occupied bunks nearest to him shall be searched.
+But first, if the man who has taken the money will come forward
+voluntarily and return the same, I will guarantee that he shall
+receive no punishment.”
+
+He paused for a brief space and looked at Hogan.
+
+Hogan seemed uneasy, but stolid and obstinate.
+
+“Since my offer is not accepted,” said the officer, “let the two
+men be searched.”
+
+Fritz, the young German, came forward readily.
+
+“I am ready,” he said.
+
+“I am not,” said Hogan. “I protest against this outrage. It is an
+infringement of my rights as an American citizen. If any one dares
+to lay hands on me, I will have him arrested as soon as we reach
+California.”
+
+His threat produced no effect upon the officer. At a signal two
+sailors seized him, and, despite his struggles, turned his pockets
+inside out.
+
+Among the contents were found four gold eagles.
+
+“It is my money!” exclaimed the poor German.
+
+“You lie! The money is mine!” said Hogan furiously.
+
+“There was a cross, which I scratched with a pin, on one piece,”
+said the German. “Look! see if it is there.”
+
+Examination was made, and the scratch was found just as he
+described it.
+
+“The money evidently belongs to the German,” said the officer.
+“Give it to him.”
+
+“You are robbing me of my money,” said Hogan.
+
+“Look here, my friend, you had better be quiet,” said the officer
+significantly, “or I will have you tied up to keep out of mischief.
+You are getting off very well as it is. I have no doubt you have
+been up to other dishonest tricks before this one.”
+
+“That is true, sir,” said Joe, speaking up for the first time.
+“This is the same man who sold me a bogus ticket, two days before
+we sailed, for fifty dollars.”
+
+“It’s a lie!” said Hogan. “I’ll be even with you some time, boy,
+for that lie of yours.”
+
+“I don’t care for the threats of such a scoundrel as you are,” said
+Joe undauntedly.
+
+“Look out for him, Joe,” said Folsom. “He will try to do you a
+mischief some time.”
+
+He would have been confirmed in his opinion had he observed the
+glance of hatred with which the detected thief followed his young
+ward.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+JOE ARRIVES IN SAN FRANCISCO
+
+
+At the isthmus they exchanged steamers, crossing the narrow neck of
+land on the backs of mules. To-day the journey is more rapidly and
+comfortably made in a railroad-car. Of the voyage on the Pacific
+nothing need be said. The weather was fair, and it was uneventful.
+
+It was a beautiful morning in early September when they came in
+sight of the Golden Gate, and, entering the more placid waters of
+San Francisco Bay, moored at a short distance from the town.
+
+“What do you think of it, Joe?” asked Charles Folsom.
+
+“I don’t know,” said Joe slowly. “Is this really San Francisco?”
+
+“It is really San Francisco.”
+
+“It doesn’t seem to be much built up yet,” said Joe.
+
+In fact, the appearance of the town would hardly suggest the
+stately capital of to-day, which looks out like a queen on the bay
+and the ocean, and on either side opens her arms to the Eastern
+and Western continents. It was a town of tents and one-story
+cabins, irregularly and picturesquely scattered over the hillside,
+with here and there a sawmill, where now stand some of the most
+prominent buildings of the modern city. For years later there was
+a large mound of sand where now the stately Palace Hotel covers
+two and a half acres. Where now stand substantial business blocks,
+a quarter of a century since there appeared only sandy beaches or
+mud-flats, with here and there a wooden pier reaching out into the
+bay. Only five years before the town contained but seventy-nine
+buildings--thirty-one frame, twenty-six adobe, and the rest
+shanties. It had grown largely since then, but even now was only a
+straggling village, with the air of recent settlement.
+
+“You expected something more, Joe, didn’t you?”
+
+“Yes,” admitted Joe.
+
+“You must remember how new it is. Ten years, nay, five, will work a
+great change in this straggling village. We shall probably live to
+see it a city of a hundred thousand inhabitants.”
+
+The passengers were eager to land. They were tired of the long
+voyage and anxious to get on shore. They wanted to begin making
+their fortunes.
+
+“What are your plans, Joe?” asked Charles Folsom.
+
+“I shall accept the first job that offers,” said Joe. “I can’t
+afford to remain idle long with my small capital.”
+
+“Joe,” said the young man seriously, “let me increase your capital
+for you. You can pay me back, you know, when it is convenient.
+Here, take this gold piece.”
+
+Our young hero shook his head.
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Folsom,” he said, “you are very kind, but I think
+it will be better for me to shift on what I have. Then I shall have
+to go to work at once, and shall get started in my new career.”
+
+“Suppose you can’t find work?” suggested Folsom.
+
+“I will find it,” said Joe resolutely.
+
+“Perhaps we might take lodgings together, Joe.”
+
+“I can’t afford it,” said Joe. “You’re a gentleman of property, and
+I’m a poor boy who has his fortune to make. For the present I must
+expect to rough it.”
+
+“Well, Joe, perhaps you are right. At any rate, I admire your pluck
+and independent spirit.”
+
+There was a motley crowd collected on the pier and on the beach
+when Joe and his friend landed. Rough, bearded men, in Mexican
+sombreros and coarse attire--many in shirt-sleeves and with their
+pantaloons tucked in their boots--watched the new arrivals with
+interest.
+
+“You needn’t feel ashamed of your clothes, Joe,” said Folsom, with
+a smile. “You are better dressed than the majority of those we see.”
+
+Joe looked puzzled.
+
+“They don’t look as if they had made their fortunes,” he said.
+
+“Don’t judge by appearances. In a new country people are careless
+of appearances. Some of these rough fellows, no doubt, have their
+pockets full of gold.”
+
+At this moment a rough-looking fellow stepped forward and said
+heartily:
+
+“Isn’t this Charles Folsom?”
+
+“Yes,” answered Folsom, puzzled.
+
+“You don’t remember me?” said the other, laughing.
+
+“Not I.”
+
+“Not remember Harry Carter, your old chum?”
+
+“Good Heaven!” exclaimed Folsom, surveying anew the rough figure
+before him. “You don’t mean to say you are Harry Carter?”
+
+“The same, at your service.”
+
+“What a transformation! Why, you used to be rather a swell and
+now----”
+
+“Now I look like a barbarian.”
+
+“Well, rather,” said Folsom, laughing.
+
+“You want me to explain? Such toggery as I used to wear would be
+the height of folly at the mines.”
+
+“I hope you have had good luck,” said Folsom.
+
+“Pretty fair,” said Carter, in a tone of satisfaction. “My pile has
+reached five thousand dollars.”
+
+“And how long have you been at work?”
+
+“A year. I was a bookkeeper in New York on a salary of fifteen
+hundred dollars a year. I used to spend all my income--the more
+fool I--till the last six months, when I laid by enough to bring me
+out here.”
+
+“Then you have really bettered yourself?”
+
+“I should say so. I could only save up five hundred dollars a year
+at the best in New York. Here I have crowded ten years into one.”
+
+“In spite of your large outlay for clothes?”
+
+“I see you will have your joke. Now, what brings you out here? Are
+you going to the mines?”
+
+“Presently, but not to dig. I came to survey the country.”
+
+“Let me do what I can for you.”
+
+“I will. First, what hotel shall I go to?”
+
+“There is the Leidesdorff House, on California Street. I’ll lead
+you there.”
+
+“Thank you. Will you come, Joe?”
+
+“Yes, I will go to find out where it is.”
+
+The three bent their steps to the hotel referred to. It was a
+shanty compared with the magnificent hotels which now open their
+portals to strangers, but the charge was ten dollars a day and the
+fare was of the plainest.
+
+“I guess I won’t stop here,” said Joe, “My money wouldn’t keep me
+here more than an hour or two.”
+
+“At any rate, Joe, you must dine with me,” said Folsom. “Then you
+may start out for yourself.”
+
+“You must dine with me, both of you,” said Carter.
+
+Folsom saw that he was in earnest, and accepted.
+
+The dinner was plain but abundant, and all three did justice to it.
+Joe did not know till afterward that the dinner cost five dollars
+apiece.
+
+After dinner the two friends sat down to talk over old times and
+mutual friends, but Joe felt that there was no time for him to
+lose. He had his fortune to make. Still more important, he had his
+living to make, and in a place where dollars were held as cheap as
+dimes in New York or Boston.
+
+So, emerging into the street, with his small bundle under his arm,
+he bent his steps as chance directed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+JOE FINDS A JOB
+
+
+Joe knew nothing about the streets or their names. Chance brought
+him to Clay Street, between what is now Montgomery and Kearny
+Streets. Outside of a low wooden building, which appeared to be a
+restaurant, was a load of wood.
+
+“I wonder if I couldn’t get the chance to saw and split that wood?”
+thought Joe.
+
+It would not do to be bashful. So he went in.
+
+A stout man in an apron was waiting on the guests. Joe concluded
+that this must be the proprietor.
+
+“Sit down, boy,” said he, “if you want some dinner.”
+
+“I’ve had my dinner,” said Joe. “Don’t you want that wood outside
+sawed and split?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Let me do it.”
+
+“Go ahead.”
+
+There was a saw and saw-horse outside. The work was not new to Joe,
+and he went at it vigorously. No bargain had been made, but Joe
+knew so little of what would be considered a fair price that in
+this first instance he chose to leave it to his employer.
+
+As he was at work Folsom and his friend passed by.
+
+“Have you found a job already?” said Folsom.
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“You have kept your promise, Joe. You said you would take the first
+job that offered.”
+
+“Yes, Mr. Folsom; I meant what I said.”
+
+“Come round to the Leidesdorff House this evening and tell me how
+you made out.”
+
+“Thank you, sir, I will.”
+
+“That seems a smart boy,” said Carter.
+
+“Yes, he is. Help him along if you have a chance.”
+
+“I will. I like his pluck.”
+
+“He has no false pride. He is ready to do anything.”
+
+“Everybody is here. You know Jim Graves, who used to have his
+shingle up as a lawyer on Nassau Street?”
+
+“Yes. Is he here?”
+
+“He has been here three months. What do you think he is doing?”
+
+“I couldn’t guess.”
+
+“I don’t think you could. He has turned drayman.” Charles Folsom
+gazed at his friend in wonder.
+
+“Turned drayman!” he exclaimed. “Is he reduced to that?”
+
+“Reduced to that! My dear fellow, you don’t understand the use of
+language. Graves is earning fifteen dollars a day at his business,
+and I don’t believe he made that in New York in a month.”
+
+“Well, it is a strange state of society. Does he mean to be a
+drayman all his life?”
+
+“Of course not. A year hence he may be a capitalist, or a lawyer
+again. Meanwhile he is saving money.”
+
+“He is a sensible man, after all; but, you see, Carter, it takes
+time to adjust my ideas to things here. The first surprise was your
+rough appearance.”
+
+“There is one advantage my rough life has brought me,” said Carter.
+“It has improved my health. I was given to dyspepsia when I lived
+in New York. Now I really believe I could digest a tenpenny nail,
+or--an eating-house mince pie, which is more difficult.”
+
+“You have steep hills in San Francisco.”
+
+“Yes, it is something of a climb to the top of Clay Street Hill.
+When you get to the top you get a fine view, though.”
+
+Now the hill may be ascended in cars drawn up the steeply graded
+sides by an endless rope running just below the surface. No such
+arrangement had been thought of then. Folsom gave out when he had
+completed half the ascent.
+
+“I’ll be satisfied with the prospect from here,” he said.
+
+Meanwhile Joe kept steadily at his task.
+
+“It will take me three hours and a half, possibly four,” he said
+to himself, after a survey of the pile. “I wonder what pay I shall
+receive.”
+
+While thus employed many persons passed him.
+
+One among them paused and accosted him.
+
+“So you have found work already?” he said.
+
+Looking up, Joe recognized Harry Hogan, the man who had swindled
+him. He didn’t feel inclined to be very social with this man.
+
+“Yes,” said he coldly.
+
+“Rather strange work for a first-class passenger.”
+
+He envied Joe because he had traveled first-class, while he had
+thought himself fortunate, with the help his dishonesty gave him,
+in being able to come by steerage.
+
+“It is very suitable employment for a boy who has no money,” said
+Joe.
+
+“How much are you going to be paid for the job?” asked Hogan, with
+sudden interest, for ten dollars constituted his only remaining
+funds.
+
+If his theft on shipboard had not been detected he would have been
+better provided.
+
+“I don’t know,” said Joe shortly.
+
+“You didn’t make any bargain, then?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“What are you going to do next?” inquired Hogan.
+
+“I don’t know,” said Joe.
+
+Hogan finally moved off.
+
+“I hate that boy,” he soliloquized. “He puts on airs for a country
+boy. So he’s getting too proud to talk to me, is he? We’ll see, Mr.
+Joseph Mason.”
+
+Joe kept on till his task was completed, put on his coat and went
+into the restaurant.
+
+It was the supper-hour.
+
+“I’ve finished the job,” said Joe, in a businesslike tone.
+
+The German took a look at Joe’s work.
+
+“You did it up good,” he said. “How much you want?”
+
+“I don’t know. What would be a fair price?”
+
+“I will give you some supper and five dollars.”
+
+Joe could hardly believe his ears. Five dollars and a supper for
+four hours’ work! Surely he had come to the Land of Gold in very
+truth.
+
+“Will dat do?”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Joe. “I didn’t expect so much.”
+
+“You shouldn’t tell me dat. It isn’t business.”
+
+Joe pocketed the gold piece which he received with a thrill of
+exultation. He had never received so much in value for a week’s
+work before. Just then a man paid two dollars for a very plain
+supper.
+
+“That makes my pay seven dollars,” said Joe to himself. “If I can
+get steady work, I can get rich very quick,” he thought.
+
+There was one thing, however, that Joe did not take into account.
+If his earnings were likely to be large, his expenses would be
+large, too. So he might receive a good deal of money and not lay up
+a cent.
+
+“Shall you have any more work to do?” asked Joe.
+
+“Not shoost now,” answered the German. “You can look round in a
+week. Maybe I have some then.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+JOE’S HOTEL
+
+
+Before going to the Leidesdorff House to call upon his friend
+Folsom, Joe thought he would try to make arrangements for the night.
+
+He came to the St. Francis Hotel, on the corner of Dupont and Clay
+Streets. There was an outside stair that led to the balcony that
+ran all round the second story. The doors of the rooms opened upon
+this balcony.
+
+A man came out from the office.
+
+“Can I get lodging here?” asked Joe.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“How much do you charge?”
+
+“Three dollars.”
+
+“He must take me for a millionaire,” thought Joe.
+
+“I can’t afford it,” he said.
+
+As Joe descended the stairs he did not feel quite so rich. Six
+dollars won’t go far when lodging costs three dollars and supper
+two.
+
+Continuing his wanderings, Joe came to a tent, which seemed to be a
+hotel in its way, for it had “Lodgings” inscribed on the canvas in
+front.
+
+“What do you charge for lodgings?” Joe inquired.
+
+“A dollar,” was the reply.
+
+Looking in, Joe saw that the accommodations were of the plainest.
+Thin pallets were spread about without pillows. Joe was not used to
+luxury but to sleep here would be roughing it even for him. But he
+was prepared to rough it, and concluded that he might as well pass
+the night here.
+
+“All right!” said he. “I’ll be round by and by.”
+
+“Do you want to pay in advance to secure your bed?”
+
+“I guess not; I’ll take the risk.”
+
+Joe went on to the Leidesdorff Hotel and was cordially received by
+Mr. Folsom.
+
+“How much have you earned to-day, Joe?”
+
+“Five dollars and my supper.”
+
+“That’s good. Is the job finished?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“And you have nothing in view for to-morrow?”
+
+“No, sir; but I guess I shall run across a job.”
+
+“Where are you going to spend the night?”
+
+“In a tent a little way down the street.”
+
+“How much will they charge you?”
+
+“One dollar.”
+
+“I wish my bed was large enough to hold two; you should be welcome
+to a share of it. But they don’t provide very wide bedsteads in
+this country.”
+
+Mr. Folsom’s bed was about eighteen inches wide.
+
+“Thank you, sir,” said Joe; “I shall do very well in the tent, I am
+sure.”
+
+“I am thinking of making a trip to the mines with my friend
+Carter,” continued Folsom. “Very likely we shall start to-morrow.
+Do you want to go with us?”
+
+“I expect to go to the mines,” said Joe, “but I think I had better
+remain awhile in San Francisco, and lay by a little money. You know
+I am in debt.”
+
+“In debt?”
+
+“Yes, for my passage. I should like to pay that off.”
+
+“There is no hurry about it, Joe.”
+
+“I’d like to get it off my mind, Mr. Folsom.”
+
+About nine o’clock Joe left the hotel and sought the tent where he
+proposed to pass the night. He was required to pay in advance, and
+willingly did so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+JOE’S SECOND DAY
+
+
+Joe woke up at seven o’clock the next morning. Though his bed was
+hard, he slept well, for he was fatigued. He stretched himself
+and sat up on his pallet. It is needless to say that he had not
+undressed. Three or four men were lying near him, all fast asleep
+except one, and that one he recognized as Henry Hogan.
+
+“Halloo!” said Hogan. “You here?”
+
+“Yes,” said Joe, not overpleased at the meeting.
+
+“We seem to keep together,” said Hogan, with a grin.
+
+“So it seems,” said Joe coldly.
+
+Hogan, however, seemed disposed to be friendly.
+
+“Pretty rough accommodations for the money.”
+
+“It doesn’t make so much difference where money is earned easily.”
+
+“How much money did you make yesterday?”
+
+Joe’s first thought was to tell him it was none of his business,
+but he thought better of it.
+
+“I made seven dollars,” said he, rather proudly.
+
+“Pretty good, but I beat you,” said Hogan.
+
+“How much did you make?”
+
+“I’ll show you.”
+
+Hogan showed five half-eagles.
+
+“I made it in ten minutes,” he said.
+
+Joe was decidedly mystified.
+
+“You are fooling me,” he said.
+
+“No, I am not. I made it at the gaming-table.”
+
+“Oh!” said Joe, a little startled, for he had been brought up to
+think gambling wicked.
+
+“Better come and try your luck with me,” said Hogan. “It is easier
+and quicker than sawing wood.”
+
+“Perhaps it is,” said Joe, “but I’d rather saw wood.”
+
+“I suspect you are a young Puritan.”
+
+“Perhaps I am,” said Joe. “At any rate, I don’t mean to gamble.”
+
+“Just as you like. I can’t afford to be so particular.”
+
+“You don’t seem to be very particular,” said Joe.
+
+“What do you mean?” inquired Hogan suspiciously.
+
+“You know well enough,” said Joe. “You know the way you had of
+getting money in New York. You know the way you tried to get it on
+board the steamer.”
+
+“Look here, young fellow,” said Hogan menacingly, “I’ve heard
+enough of this. You won’t find it safe to run against me. I’m a
+tough customer, you’ll find.”
+
+“I don’t doubt it,” said Joe.
+
+“Then just be careful, will you? I ain’t going to have you slander
+me and prejudice people against me, and I mean to protect myself.
+Do you understand me?”
+
+“I think I do, Mr. Hogan, but I don’t feel particularly alarmed.”
+
+Joe got up and went out in search of breakfast. Be thought of the
+place where he took supper but was deterred from going there by the
+high prices.
+
+“I suppose I shall have to pay a dollar for my breakfast,” he
+thought, “but I can’t afford to pay two. My capital is reduced to
+five dollars and I may not be able to get anything to do to-day.”
+
+Joe finally succeeded in finding a humble place where for a dollar
+he obtained a cup of coffee, a plate of cold meat, and as much
+bread as he could eat.
+
+“I shall have to make it do with two meals a day,” thought our
+hero. “Then it will cost me three dollars a day to live, including
+lodging, and I shall have to be pretty lucky to make that.”
+
+After breakfast Joe walked about the streets, hoping that something
+would turn up. But his luck did not seem to be so good as the day
+before. Hour after hour passed and no chance offered itself. As he
+was walking along feeling somewhat anxious, he met Hogan.
+
+“Lend me a dollar,” said Hogan quickly. “I’m dead broke.”
+
+“Where has all your money gone?” asked Joe.
+
+“Lost it at faro. Lend me a dollar and I’ll win it all back.”
+
+“I have no money to spare,” said Joe decidedly.
+
+“Curse you for a young skinflint!” said Hogan, scowling. “I’ll get
+even with you yet.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE FOILED ASSASSIN
+
+
+About four o’clock Joe went into a restaurant and got some dinner.
+In spite of his wish to be economical, his dinner bill amounted to
+a dollar and a half, and now his cash in hand was reduced to two
+dollars and a half.
+
+Joe began to feel uneasy.
+
+“This won’t do,” he said to himself. “At this rate I shall soon be
+penniless. I must get something to do.”
+
+In the evening he strolled down Montgomery Street to Telegraph
+Hill. It was not a very choice locality, the only buildings being
+shabby little dens, frequented by a class of social outlaws who
+kept concealed during the day but came out at night--a class to
+which the outrages frequent at this time were rightly attributed.
+
+Joe was stumbling along the uneven path, when all at once he found
+himself confronted by a tall fellow wearing a slouched hat. The man
+paused in front of him, but did not say a word. Finding that he was
+not disposed to move aside, Joe stepped aside himself. He did not
+as yet suspect the fellow’s purpose. He understood it, however,
+when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.
+
+“Quick, boy, your money!” said the ruffian.
+
+Having but two dollars and a half, Joe naturally felt reluctant to
+part with it, and this gave him the courage to object.
+
+“I’ve got none to spare,” he said and tried to tear himself away.
+
+His resistance led the fellow to suspect that he had a considerable
+sum with him. Joe felt himself seized and carried into a den close
+by, which was frequented by thieves and desperate characters.
+
+There was a counter, on which was set a dim oil-lamp. There were
+a few bottles in sight, and a villainous-looking fellow appeared
+to preside over the establishment. The latter looked up as Joe was
+brought in.
+
+“Who have you there?” asked the barkeeper.
+
+“A young cove as don’t want to part with his money.”
+
+“You’d better hand over what you’ve got, young ’un.”
+
+Joe looked from one to the other and thought he had never seen such
+villainous faces before.
+
+“What are you lookin’ at?” demanded his captor suspiciously, “You
+want to know us again, do you? Maybe you’d like to get us hauled
+up, would you?”
+
+“I don’t want ever to set eyes on you again.”
+
+“That’s the way to talk. As soon as our business is over, there
+ain’t no occasion for our meetin’ again. Don’t you go to point us
+out, or----”
+
+He didn’t finish the sentence, but whipped out a long knife, which
+made any further remarks unnecessary.
+
+Under the circumstances, resistance would be madness and Joe drew
+out his money.
+
+“Is that all you’ve got?” demanded the thief.
+
+“Every cent,” said Joe. “It won’t leave me anything to pay for my
+night’s lodging.”
+
+“Then you can sleep out. I’ve done it many a time. But I’ll take
+the liberty of searching you, and seeing if you tell the truth or
+not.”
+
+“Just as you like,” said Joe.
+
+Joe was searched, but no more money was found.
+
+“The boy’s told the truth,” said his captor. “Two dollars and a
+half is a pretty small haul.”
+
+“I am sorry, gentlemen, that I haven’t anything more. It isn’t
+my fault, for I’ve tried hard to get something to do to-day, and
+couldn’t.”
+
+“You’re a cool customer,” said the barkeeper.
+
+“I expect to be to-night, for I shall have to sleep out.”
+
+“You can go,” said his captor, as he opened the door of the den;
+“and don’t come round here again, unless you’ve got more money with
+you.”
+
+“I don’t think I shall,” said Joe.
+
+When Joe found himself penniless, he really felt less anxious than
+when he had at least money enough to pay for lodging and breakfast.
+Having lost everything, any turn of fortune must be for the better.
+
+“Something has got to turn up pretty quick,” thought Joe. “It’s
+just as well I didn’t get a job to-day. I should only have had more
+money to lose.”
+
+He had not walked a hundred feet when his attention was called
+to the figure of a gentleman walking some rods in front of him.
+He saw it but indistinctly, and would not have given it a second
+thought had he not seen that the person, whoever he might be, was
+stealthily followed by a man who in general appearance resembled
+the rascal who had robbed him of his money. The pursuer carried in
+his hand a canvas bag filled with sand. This, though Joe did not
+know it, was a dangerous weapon in the hands of a lawless human.
+Brought down heavily upon the head of an unlucky traveler, it often
+produced instant death, without leaving any outward marks that
+would indicate death from violence.
+
+Though Joe didn’t comprehend the use of the sand-bag, his own
+recent experience and the stealthy movement of the man behind
+convinced him that mischief was intended. He would have been
+excusable if, being but a boy and no match for an able-bodied
+ruffian, he had got out of the way. But Joe had more courage than
+falls to the share of most boys of sixteen. He felt a chivalrous
+desire to rescue the unsuspecting stranger from the peril that
+menaced him.
+
+Joe, too, imitating the stealthy motion of the pursuer, swiftly
+gained upon him, overtaking him just as he had the sand-bag poised
+aloft, ready to be brought down upon the head of the traveler.
+
+With a cry, Joe rushed upon the would-be assassin, causing him to
+stumble and fall, while the gentleman in front turned round in
+amazement.
+
+Joe sprang to his side.
+
+“Have you a pistol?” he said quickly.
+
+Scarcely knowing what he did, the gentleman drew out a pistol and
+put it in Joe’s hand. Joe cocked it, and stood facing the ruffian.
+
+The desperado was on his feet, fury in his looks and a curse upon
+his lips. He swung the sand-bag aloft.
+
+“Curse you!” he said. “I’ll make you pay for this!”
+
+“One step forward,” said Joe, in a clear, distinct voice, which
+betrayed not a particle of fear, “and I will put a bullet through
+your brain!”
+
+The assassin stepped back. He was a coward, who attacked from
+behind. He looked in the boy’s resolute face, and he saw he was in
+earnest.
+
+“Put down that weapon, you whipper-snapper!”
+
+“Not much!” answered Joe.
+
+“I’ve a great mind to kill you!”
+
+“I’ve no doubt of it,” said our hero; “but you’d better not attack
+me. I am armed, and I will fire if you make it necessary. Now, turn
+round and leave us.”
+
+“Will you promise not to shoot?”
+
+“Yes, if you go off quietly.”
+
+The order was obeyed, but not very willingly.
+
+When the highwayman had moved off, Joe said:
+
+“Now, sir, we’d better be moving, and pretty quickly, or the fellow
+may return, with some of his friends, and overpower us. Where are
+you stopping?”
+
+“At the Waverly House.”
+
+“That is near-by. We will go there at once.”
+
+They soon reached the hotel, a large wooden building on the north
+side of Pacific Street.
+
+Joe was about to bid his acquaintance good night but the latter
+detained him.
+
+“Come in, my boy,” he said. “You have done me a great service. I
+must know more of you.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+JOE’S NEW FRIEND
+
+
+“Come up to my room,” said the stranger.
+
+He obtained a candle at the office, gas not being used in San
+Francisco at that time, and led the way to a small chamber on the
+second floor.
+
+“Now, sit down, my boy, and tell me your name.”
+
+“Joseph Mason.”
+
+“How long have you been here?”
+
+“Less than a week.”
+
+“I only arrived yesterday. But for your help, my residence might
+have been a brief one.”
+
+“I am glad I have been able to be of service to you.”
+
+“You were a friend in need, and a friend in need is a friend
+indeed. It is only fair that I should be a friend to you. It’s a
+poor rule that doesn’t work both ways.”
+
+Joe was favorably impressed with the speaker’s appearance. He was a
+man of middle height, rather stout, with a florid complexion, and
+an open, friendly face.
+
+“Thank you, sir,” he said, “I need a friend, and shall be glad of
+your friendship.”
+
+“Then here’s my hand. Take it, and let us ratify our friendship.”
+
+Joe took the proffered hand and shook it cordially.
+
+“My name is George Morgan,” said the stranger. “I came from
+Philadelphia. Now we know each other. Where are you staying?”
+
+Joe’s face flushed and he looked embarrassed.
+
+“Just before I came up with you,” he answered, thinking frankness
+best, “I was robbed of two dollars and a half, all the money I had
+in this world. I shall have to stop in the streets to-night.”
+
+“Not if I know it,” said Morgan emphatically. “This bed isn’t very
+large, but you are welcome to a share of it. To-morrow we will form
+our plans.”
+
+“Shan’t I inconvenience you, sir?” asked Joe.
+
+“Not a bit,” answered Morgan heartily.
+
+“Then I will stay, sir, and thank you. After the adventure I have
+had to-night, I shouldn’t enjoy being out in the streets.”
+
+“Tell me how you came to be robbed. Was it by the same man who made
+the attack upon me?”
+
+“No, sir. I wish it had been, as then I should feel even with him.
+It was a man that looked very much like him, though.”
+
+Joe gave an account of the robbery, to which his new friend
+listened with attention.
+
+“Evidently,” he said, “the street we were in is not a very safe
+one. Have you had any supper?”
+
+“Oh, yes, sir. Luckily, I got that and paid for it before I had my
+money taken.”
+
+“Good. Now, as I am tired, I will go to bed, and you can follow
+when you feel inclined.”
+
+“I will go now, sir. I have been walking the streets all day, in
+search of work, and, though I found none, I am tired, all the same.”
+
+They woke up at seven o’clock.
+
+“How did you rest, Joe?” asked George Morgan.
+
+“Very well, sir.”
+
+“Do you feel ready for breakfast?”
+
+“As soon as I can earn money enough to pay for it.”
+
+“Don’t trouble yourself about that. You are going to breakfast with
+me.”
+
+“You are very kind, Mr. Morgan, but I wish you had some work for me
+to do, so that I could pay you.”
+
+“That may come after awhile. It might not be safe to delay your
+breakfast till you could pay for it. Remember, you have done me a
+great service, which fifty breakfasts couldn’t pay for.”
+
+“Don’t think of that, Mr. Morgan,” said Joe modestly. “Anybody
+would do what I did.”
+
+“I am not sure whether everybody would have the courage. But you
+must leave me to show my appreciation of your services in my own
+way.”
+
+They took breakfast in the hotel and walked out.
+
+Though it was early, the town was already astir. People got up
+early in those days. Building was going on here and there. Draymen
+were piloting heavy loads through the streets--rough enough in
+general appearance, but drawn from very unlikely social grades.
+
+“By Jove!” said Morgan, in surprise, his glance resting on a young
+man of twenty-five, who was in command of a dray. “Do you hear that
+drayman?”
+
+“Is he a foreigner?” asked Joe. “I don’t understand what he is
+saying.”
+
+“He is talking to his horse in Greek, quoting from Homer. Look
+here, my friend!” he said, hailing the drayman.
+
+“What is it, sir?” said the young man courteously.
+
+“Didn’t I hear you quoting Greek just now?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“How happens it that a classical scholar like you finds himself in
+such a position?”
+
+The young man smiled.
+
+“How much do you think I am earning?”
+
+“I can’t guess. I am a stranger in this city.”
+
+“Twenty dollars a day.”
+
+“Capital! I don’t feel as much surprised as I did. Are you a
+college graduate?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I was graduated at Yale. Then I studied law and three
+months since I came out here. It takes time to get into practise
+at home and I had no resources to fall back upon. I raised money
+enough to bring me to California and came near starving the
+first week I was here. I couldn’t wait to get professional work,
+but I had an offer to drive a dray. I am a farmer’s son and was
+accustomed to hard work as a boy. I accepted the offer and here I
+am. I can lay up half my earnings and am quite satisfied.”
+
+“But you won’t be a drayman all your life?”
+
+“Oh, no, sir. But I may as well keep at it till I can get into
+something more to my taste.”
+
+And the young lawyer drove off.
+
+“It’s a queer country,” said Morgan. “It’s hard to gauge a man by
+his occupation here, I see.”
+
+“I wish I could get a dray to drive,” said Joe.
+
+“You are not old enough or strong enough yet. I am looking for
+some business myself, Joe, but I can’t at all tell what I shall
+drift into. At home I was a dry-goods merchant. My partner and I
+disagreed and I sold out to him. I drew ten thousand dollars out
+of the concern, invested four-fifths of it, and have come out here
+with the remainder, to see what I can do.”
+
+“Ten thousand dollars! What a rich man you must be!” said Joe.
+
+“In your eyes, my boy. As you get older, you will find that it
+will not seem so large to you. At any rate, I hope to increase it
+considerably.”
+
+They were walking on Kearny Street, near California Street, when
+Joe’s attention was drawn, to a sign:
+
+                     =THIS RESTAURANT FOR SALE=
+
+It was a one-story building, of small dimensions, not fashionable,
+nor elegant in its appointments, but there wasn’t much style in San
+Francisco at that time.
+
+“Would you like to buy out the restaurant?” asked Morgan.
+
+“I don’t feel like buying anything out with empty pockets,” said
+Joe.
+
+“Let us go in.”
+
+The proprietor was a man of middle age.
+
+“Why do you wish to sell out?” asked Morgan.
+
+“I want to go to the mines. I need an out-of-door life and want a
+change.”
+
+“Does this business pay?”
+
+“Sometimes I have made seventy-five dollars profit in a day.”
+
+“How much do you ask for the business?”
+
+“I’ll take five hundred dollars, cash.”
+
+“Have you a reliable cook?”
+
+“Yes. He knows his business.”
+
+“Will he stay?”
+
+“For the present. If you want a profitable business, you will do
+well to buy.”
+
+“I don’t want it for myself. I want it for this young man.”
+
+“For this boy?” asked the restaurant-keeper, surprised.
+
+Joe looked equally surprised.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+JOE STARTS IN BUSINESS
+
+
+“Do you think you can keep a hotel, Joe?” asked Morgan.
+
+“I can try,” said Joe promptly.
+
+“Come in, gentlemen,” said the restaurant-keeper.
+
+“We can talk best inside.”
+
+The room was small, holding but six tables. In the rear was the
+kitchen.
+
+“Let me see your scale of prices,” said Morgan.
+
+It was shown him.
+
+“I could breakfast cheaper at Delmonico’s,” he said.
+
+“And better,” said the proprietor of the restaurant; “but I find
+people here willing to pay big prices, and, as long as that’s the
+case, I should be a fool to reduce them. Yes, there’s a splendid
+profit to be made in the business. I ought to charge a thousand
+dollars, instead of five hundred.”
+
+“Why don’t you?” asked Morgan bluntly.
+
+“Because I couldn’t get it. Most men, when they come out here, are
+not content to settle down in the town. They won’t be satisfied
+till they get to the mines.”
+
+“That seems to be the case with you, too.”
+
+“It isn’t that altogether. My lungs are weak and confinement isn’t
+good for me. Besides, the doctors say the climate in the interior
+is better for pulmonary affections.”
+
+“What rent do you have to pay?”
+
+“A small ground-rent. I put up this building myself.”
+
+“How soon can you give possession?”
+
+“Right off.”
+
+“Will you stay here three days, to initiate my young friend into
+the mysteries of the business?”
+
+“Oh, yes; I’ll do that willingly.”
+
+“Then I will buy you out.”
+
+In five minutes the business was settled.
+
+“Joe,” said Morgan, “let me congratulate you. You are now one of
+the business men of San Francisco.”
+
+“It seems like a dream to me, Mr. Morgan,” said Joe. “This morning
+when I waked up I wasn’t worth a cent.”
+
+“And now you own five hundred dollars,” said Mr. Morgan, laughing.
+
+“That wasn’t exactly the way I thought of it, sir, but are you not
+afraid to trust me to that amount?”
+
+“No, I am not, Joe,” said Morgan seriously. “I think you are a boy
+of energy and integrity. I don’t see why you shouldn’t succeed.”
+
+“Suppose I shouldn’t?”
+
+“I shall not trouble myself about the loss. In all probability, you
+saved my life last evening. That is worth to me many times what I
+have invested for you.”
+
+“I want to give you my note for the money,” said Joe. “If I live, I
+will pay you, with interest.”
+
+“I agree with you. We may as well put it on a business basis.”
+
+Papers were drawn up, and Joe found himself proprietor of the
+restaurant. He lost no opportunity of mastering the details of the
+business. He learned where his predecessor obtained his supplies,
+what prices he paid, about how much he required for a day’s
+consumption, and what was his scale of prices.
+
+“Do you live here, Mr. Brock?” asked Joe.
+
+“Yes; I have a bed, which I lay in a corner of the restaurant. Thus
+I avoid the expense of a room outside, and am on hand early for
+business.”
+
+“I’ll do the same,” said Joe promptly.
+
+“In that way you will have no personal expenses, except clothing
+and washing,” said Brock.
+
+“I shall be glad to have no bills to pay for board,” said Joe.
+“That’s rather a steep item here.”
+
+“So it is.”
+
+“I don’t see but I can save up pretty much all I make,” said Joe.
+
+“Certainly you can.”
+
+In two days Joe, who was naturally quick and whose natural
+shrewdness was sharpened by his personal interest, mastered the
+details of the business, and felt that he could manage alone.
+
+“Mr. Brock,” said he, “you promised to stay with me three days, but
+I won’t insist upon the third day. I think I can get along well
+without you.”
+
+“If you can, I shall be glad to leave you at once. The fact is, a
+friend of mine starts for the mines to-morrow, and I would like to
+accompany him. I asked him to put it off a day, but he thinks he
+can’t.”
+
+“Go with him, by all means. I can get along.”
+
+So, on the morning of the third day, Joe found himself alone.
+
+At the end of the first week he made a careful estimate of his
+expenses and receipts, and found, to his astonishment, that he had
+cleared two hundred dollars. It seemed to him almost incredible,
+and he went over the calculations again and again. But he could
+figure out no other result.
+
+“Two hundred dollars in one week!” he said to himself. “What would
+Oscar say to that? It seems like a fairy tale.”
+
+Joe did not forget that he was five hundred dollars In debt. He
+went to George Morgan, who had bought out for himself a gentlemen’s
+furnishing store, and said:
+
+“Mr. Morgan, I want to pay up a part of that debt.”
+
+“So soon, Joe? How much do you want to pay?”
+
+“A hundred and fifty dollars.”
+
+“You don’t mean to say that you have cleared that amount?” said
+Morgan, in amazement.
+
+“Yes, sir, and fifty dollars more.”
+
+“Very well. I will receive the money. You do well to wipe out your
+debts as soon as possible.”
+
+Joe paid over the money with no little satisfaction.
+
+Without going too much into detail, it may be stated that at the
+end of a month Joe was out of debt and had three hundred dollars
+over. He called on the owner of the land to pay the monthly
+ground-rent.
+
+“Why don’t you buy the land, and get rid of the rent?” asked the
+owner.
+
+“Do you want to sell?” asked Joe.
+
+“Yes; I am about to return to the East.”
+
+“What do you ask?”
+
+“I own two adjoining lots. You may have them all for a thousand
+dollars.”
+
+“Will you give me time?”
+
+“I can’t. I want to return at once, and I must have the cash.”
+
+A thought struck Joe.
+
+“I will take three hours to consider,” said Joe.
+
+He went to George Morgan and broached his business.
+
+“Mr. Morgan,” he said, “will you lend me seven hundred dollars?”
+
+“Are you getting into pecuniary difficulties, Joe?” asked Morgan,
+concerned.
+
+“No, sir; but I want to buy some real estate.”
+
+“Explain yourself.”
+
+Joe did so.
+
+“It is the best thing you can do,” said Morgan, “I will lend you
+the money.”
+
+“I hope to repay it inside of two months,” said Joe.
+
+“I think you will, judging from what you have done already.”
+
+In two hours Joe had paid over the entire amount, for it will be
+remembered that he had three hundred dollars of his own, and was
+owner of three city lots.
+
+“Now,” thought he, “I must attend to business, and clear off the
+debt I have incurred. I shan’t feel as if the land is mine till I
+have paid for it wholly.”
+
+Joe found it a great advantage that he obtained his own board and
+lodging free. Though wages were high, the necessary expenses of
+living were so large that a man earning five dollars a day was
+worse off oftentimes than one who was earning two dollars at the
+East.
+
+“How shall I make my restaurant more attractive?” thought Joe.
+
+He decided first that he would buy good articles and insist upon
+as much neatness as possible about the tables. At many of the
+restaurants very little attention was paid to this, and visitors
+who had been accustomed to neatness at home were repelled.
+
+Soon Joe’s dining-room acquired a reputation, and the patronage
+increased. At the end of the third month he had not only paid up
+the original loan of seven hundred dollars, but was the owner of
+the three lots, and had four hundred dollars over. He began to feel
+that his prosperity was founded on a solid basis.
+
+One day about this time, as he was at the desk where he received
+money from his patrons as they went out, his attention was drawn to
+a rough fellow, having the appearance of a tramp, entering at the
+door. The man’s face seemed familiar to him, and it flashed upon
+him that it was Henry Hogan, who had defrauded him in New York.
+
+The recognition was mutual.
+
+“You here?” he exclaimed, in surprise.
+
+“So it seems,” said Joe.
+
+“Is it a good place?”
+
+“I like it.”
+
+“Who’s your boss?”
+
+“Myself.”
+
+“You don’t mean to say this is your own place?”
+
+“Yes, I do.”
+
+“Well, I’ll be blowed!” ejaculated Hogan, staring stupidly at Joe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+MR. HOGAN’S PROPOSAL
+
+
+Joe enjoyed Hogan’s amazement. He felt rather proud of his rapid
+progress. It was not four months since, a poor, country boy, he had
+come up to New York, and fallen a prey to a designing sharper. Now,
+on the other side of the continent, he was master of a business and
+owner of real estate.
+
+The day has passed for such rapid progress. California is no longer
+a new country, and the conditions of living closely approximate
+those in the East. I am careful to say this because I don’t wish to
+mislead my young readers. Success is always attainable by pluck and
+persistency, but the degree is dependent on circumstances.
+
+“How have you made out?” asked Joe of his visitor.
+
+“I’ve had hard luck,” grumbled Hogan, “I went to the mines, but I
+wasn’t lucky.”
+
+“Was that the case with other miners?” asked Joe, who had a shrewd
+suspicion that Hogan’s ill-luck was largely the result of his
+laziness and want of application.
+
+“No,” said Hogan. “Other men around me were lucky, but I wasn’t.”
+
+“Perhaps your claim was a poor one.”
+
+“It was, as long as I had anything to do with it,” said Hogan. “I
+sold it out for a trifle and the next day the other man found a
+nugget. Wasn’t that cursed hard?” he grumbled.
+
+“You ought to have kept on. Then you would have found the nugget.”
+
+“No, I shouldn’t. I am too unlucky. If I had held on, it wouldn’t
+have been there. You’ve got on well. You’re lucky.”
+
+“Yes; I have no reason to complain. But I wasn’t lucky all the
+time. I was robbed of every cent of money, when I met a good
+friend, who bought this business for me.”
+
+“Does it pay?” asked the other eagerly.
+
+“Yes, it pays,” said Joe cautiously.
+
+“How much do you make, say, in a week?” asked Hogan, leaning his
+elbows on the counter and looking up in Joe’s face.
+
+“Really, Mr. Hogan,” said Joe, “I don’t feel called upon to tell my
+business to others.”
+
+“I thought maybe you’d tell an old friend,” said Hogan.
+
+Joe could not help laughing at the man’s matchless impudence.
+
+“I don’t think you have treated me exactly like a friend, Mr.
+Hogan,” he said. “You certainly did all you could to prevent my
+coming to California.”
+
+“There’s some mistake about that,” said Hogan.
+
+“You’re under a misapprehension; but I won’t go into that matter
+now. Will you trust me for my supper?”
+
+“Yes,” said Joe promptly. “Sit down at that table.”
+
+The man had treated him badly, but things had turned out favorably
+for Joe, and he would not let Hogan suffer from hunger, if he could
+relieve him.
+
+Hogan needed no second invitation. He took a seat at a table
+near-by, and ate enough for two men, but Joe could not repeat the
+invitation he had given. He felt that he could not afford it.
+
+It was rather late when Hogan sat down. When he finished, he was
+the only one left in the restaurant, except Joe. He sauntered up to
+the desk.
+
+“You’ve got a good cook,” said Hogan, picking his teeth with a
+knife.
+
+“Yes,” answered Joe. “I think so.”
+
+“You say the business pays well?”
+
+“Yes; it satisfies me.”
+
+“Are you alone? Have you no partner?”
+
+“You could do better with one. Suppose you take me into business
+with you?”
+
+Joe was considerably surprised at this proposition from a man who
+had swindled him.
+
+“How much capital can you furnish?” he asked.
+
+“I haven’t got any money. I’m dead broke,” said Hogan, “but I can
+give my services. I can wait on the table. I’ll do that, and you
+can give me my board and one-third of the profits. Come, now,
+that’s a good offer. What do you say?”
+
+Joe thought it best to be candid.
+
+“I don’t want any partner, Mr. Hogan,” he said; “and I may as well
+tell you, I don’t think I should care to be associated with you if
+I did.”
+
+“Do you mean to insult me?” asked Hogan, scowling.
+
+“No; but I may as well be candid.”
+
+“What’s the matter with me?” asked Hogan roughly.
+
+“I don’t like the way you do business,” said Joe.
+
+“Look here, young one, you put on too many airs just because you’re
+keepin’ a one-horse restaurant,” said Hogan angrily.
+
+“If it’s a one-horse restaurant, why do you want to become my
+partner?” retorted Joe coolly.
+
+“Because I’m hard up--I haven’t got a cent.”
+
+“I’m sorry for you; but a man needn’t be in that condition long
+here.”
+
+“Where do you sleep?” asked Hogan suddenly.
+
+“Here. I put a bed on the floor in one corner, and so am on hand in
+the morning.”
+
+“I say,” Hogan continued insinuatingly, “won’t you let me stay here
+to-night?”
+
+“Sleep here?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I’d rather not, Mr. Hogan.”
+
+“I haven’t a cent to pay for a lodging. If you don’t take me in, I
+shall have to stay in the street all night.”
+
+“You’ve slept out at the mines, haven’t you?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then you can do it here.”
+
+“You’re hard on a poor man,” whined Hogan. “It wouldn’t cost you
+anything to let me sleep here.”
+
+“No, it wouldn’t,” said Joe; “but I prefer to choose my own company
+at night.”
+
+“I may catch my death of cold,” said Hogan.
+
+“I hope not; but I don’t keep lodgings,” said Joe firmly.
+
+“You haven’t any feeling for an unlucky man.”
+
+“I have given you your supper, and not stinted you in any way.
+What you ate would cost two dollars at my regular prices. I wasn’t
+called to do it, for you never did me any service, and you are
+owing me to-day fifty dollars, which you cheated me out of when I
+was a poor boy. I won’t let you lodge here, but I will give you a
+breakfast in the morning, if you choose to come round. Then you
+will be strengthened for a day’s work, and can see what you can
+find to do.”
+
+Hogan saw that Joe was in earnest and walked out of the restaurant,
+without a word.
+
+When Joe was about to close his doors for the night his attention
+was drawn to a man who was sitting down on the ground, a few feet
+distant, with his head buried between his two hands, in an attitude
+expressive of despondency.
+
+Joe was warm-hearted and sympathetic, and, after a moment’s
+hesitation, addressed the stranger.
+
+“Is anything the matter with you, sir?” he asked. “Don’t you feel
+well?”
+
+The man addressed raised his head. He was a stout, strongly built
+man, roughly dressed, but had a look which inspired confidence.
+
+“I may as well tell you, boy,” he answered, “though you can’t help
+me. I’ve been a cursed fool, that’s what’s the matter.”
+
+“If you don’t mind telling me,” said Joe gently, “perhaps I can be
+of service to you.”
+
+The man shook his head.
+
+“I don’t think you can,” he said, “but I’ll tell you, for all that.
+Yesterday I came up from the mines with two thousand dollars. I was
+about a year getting it together, and to me it was a fortune. I’m
+a shoemaker by occupation, and lived in a town in Massachusetts,
+where I have a wife and two young children. I left them a year ago
+to go to the mines. I did well, and the money I told you about
+would have made us all comfortable, if I could only have got it
+home.”
+
+“Were you robbed of it?” asked Joe, remembering his own experience.
+
+“Yes; I was robbed of it, but not in the way you are thinking of. A
+wily scoundrel induced me to enter a gambling-den, the Bella Union,
+they call it. I wouldn’t play at first, but soon the fascination
+seized me. I saw a man win a hundred dollars, and I thought I could
+do the same, so I began, and won a little. Then I lost, and played
+on to get my money back. In just an hour I was cleaned out of all
+I had. Now I am penniless, and my poor family will suffer for my
+folly.”
+
+He buried his face in his hands once more and, strong man as he
+was, he wept aloud.
+
+“Have you had any supper, sir?” said Joe compassionately.
+
+“No; but I have no appetite.”
+
+“Have you any place to sleep?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Then I can offer you a supper and a night’s lodging. Don’t be
+discouraged. In the morning we can talk the matter over, and see
+what can be done.”
+
+The stranger rose and laid his hand on Joe’s arm.
+
+“I don’t know how it is,” he said, “but your words give me courage.
+I believe you have saved my life. I have a revolver left and I had
+a mind to blow my brains out.”
+
+“Would that have helped you or your family?”
+
+“No, boy. I was a fool to think of it. I’ll accept your offer, and
+to-morrow I’ll see what I can do. You’re the best friend I’ve met
+since I left home.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE UNLUCKY MINER
+
+
+Joe brought out some cold meat and bread and butter, and set it
+before his guest.
+
+“The fire’s gone out,” he said, “or I would give you some tea. Here
+is a glass of milk, if you like it.”
+
+“Thank you, boy,” said his visitor. “Milk is good enough for
+anybody. One thing I can say, I’ve steered clear of liquor. A
+brother of mine was intemperate and that was a warning to me. I
+took credit to myself for being a steady-going man, compared with
+many of my acquaintances out at the mines. But it don’t do to
+boast. I’ve done worse, perhaps. I’ve gambled away the provision I
+had made for my poor family.”
+
+“Don’t take it too hard,” said Joe, in a tone of sympathy. “You
+know how it is out here. Down to-day and up to-morrow.”
+
+“It’ll take me a long time to get up to where I was,” said the
+other; “but it’s my fault, and I must make the best of it.”
+
+Joe observed, with satisfaction, that his visitor was doing ample
+justice to the supper spread before him. With a full stomach, he
+would be likely to take more cheerful views of life and the future.
+In this thought Joe proved to be correct.
+
+“I didn’t think I could eat anything,” said the miner, laying down
+his knife and fork, twenty minutes later, “but I have made a hearty
+supper, thanks to your kindness. Things look a little brighter to
+me now. I’ve had a hard pullback, but all is not lost. I’ve got to
+stay here a year or two longer, instead of going back by the next
+steamer; but I must make up my mind to that. What is your name,
+boy?”
+
+“Joe Mason.”
+
+“You’ve been kind to me, and I won’t forget it. It doesn’t seem
+likely I can return the favor, but I’ll do it if ever I can. Good
+night to you.”
+
+“Where are you going?” asked Joe, surprised, as the miner walked to
+the door.
+
+“Out into the street.”
+
+“But where do you mean to pass the night?”
+
+“Where a man without money must--in the street.”
+
+“But you mustn’t do that.”
+
+“I shan’t mind it. I’ve slept out at the mines many a night.”
+
+“But won’t you find it more comfortable here?”
+
+“Yes; but I don’t want to intrude. You’ve given me a good supper
+and that is all I can expect.”
+
+“He doesn’t seem much like Hogan,” thought Joe.
+
+“You are welcome to lodge here with me,” he said. “It will cost you
+nothing and will be more comfortable for you.”
+
+“You don’t know me, Joe,” said the miner. “How do you know but I
+may get up in the night and rob you?”
+
+“You could, but I don’t think you will,” said Joe. “I am not at all
+afraid of it. You look like an honest man.”
+
+The miner looked gratified.
+
+“You shan’t repent your confidence, Joe,” he said.
+
+“I’d rather starve than rob a good friend like you. But you mustn’t
+trust everybody.”
+
+“I don’t,” said Joe. “I refused a man to-night--a man named Hogan.”
+
+“Hogan?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What does he look like?”
+
+Joe described him.
+
+“It’s the very man,” said the miner.
+
+“Do you know him, then?”
+
+“Yes; he was out at our diggings. Nobody liked him, or trusted him.
+He was too lazy to work, but just loafed around, complaining of his
+luck. One night I caught him in my tent, just going to rob me. I
+warned him to leave the camp next day or I’d report him, and the
+boys would have strung him up. That’s the way they treat thieves
+out there.”
+
+“It doesn’t surprise me to hear it,” said Joe. “He robbed me of
+fifty dollars in New York.”
+
+“He did? How was that?”
+
+Joe told the story.
+
+“The mean skunk!” ejaculated Watson--for this Joe found to be the
+miner’s name. “It’s mean enough to rob a man, but to cheat a poor
+boy out of all he has is a good deal meaner. And yet you gave him
+supper?”
+
+“Yes. The man was hungry; I pitied him.”
+
+“You’re a better Christian than I am. I’d have let him go hungry.”
+
+Both Joe and the miner were weary and they soon retired, but not to
+uninterrupted slumber. About midnight they were disturbed, as the
+next chapter will show.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+HOGAN MEETS A CONGENIAL SPIRIT
+
+
+When Hogan left Joe’s presence he was far from feeling as grateful
+as he ought for the kindness with which our hero had treated him.
+Instead of feeling thankful for the bountiful supper, he was angry
+because Joe had not permitted him to remain through the night. Had
+he obtained this favor, he would have resented the refusal to take
+him into partnership. There are some men who are always soliciting
+favors, and demanding them as a right, and Hogan was one of them.
+
+Out in the street he paused a minute, undecided where to go. He had
+no money, as he had truly said, or he would have been tempted to go
+to a gambling-house, and risk it on a chance of making more.
+
+“Curse that boy!” he muttered, as he sauntered along in the
+direction of Telegraph Hill. “Who’d have thought a green country
+clodhopper would have gone up as he has, while an experienced man
+of the world like me is out at the elbows and without a cent!”
+
+The more Hogan thought of this, the more indignant he became.
+
+He thrust both hands into his pantaloons pockets, and strode
+moodily on.
+
+“I say it’s a cursed shame!” he muttered. “I never did have any
+luck, that’s a fact. Just see how luck comes to some. With only a
+dollar or two in his pocket, this Joe got trusted for a first-class
+passage out here, while I had to come in the steerage. Then,
+again, he meets some fool, who sets him up in business. Nobody
+ever offered to set me up in business!” continued Hogan, feeling
+aggrieved at Fortune for her partiality. “Nobody even offered to
+give me a start in life. I have to work hard, and that’s all the
+good it does.”
+
+The fact was that Hogan had not done a whole day’s work for years.
+But such men are very apt to deceive themselves and possibly he
+imagined himself a hard-working man.
+
+“It’s disgusting to see the airs that boy puts on,” he continued
+to soliloquize. “It’s nothing but luck. He can’t help getting on,
+with everybody to help him. Why didn’t he let me sleep in his place
+to-night? It wouldn’t have cost him a cent.”
+
+Then Hogan drifted off into calculations of how much money Joe was
+making by his business. He knew the prices charged for meals and
+that they afforded a large margin of profit.
+
+The more he thought of it, the more impressed he was with the
+extent of Joe’s luck.
+
+“The boy must be making his fortune,” he said to himself. “Why, he
+can’t help clearing from one to two hundred dollars a week--perhaps
+more. It’s a money-making business, there’s no doubt of it. Why
+couldn’t he take me in as partner? That would set me on my legs
+again, and in time I’d be rich. I’d make him sell out, and get the
+whole thing after awhile.”
+
+So Hogan persuaded himself into the conviction that Joe ought to
+have accepted him as partner, though why this should be, since his
+only claim rested on his successful attempt to defraud him in New
+York, it would be difficult to conjecture.
+
+Sauntering slowly along, Hogan had reached the corner of Pacific
+Street, then a dark and suspicious locality in the immediate
+neighborhood of a number of low public houses of bad reputation.
+The night was dark, for there was no moon.
+
+Suddenly he felt himself seized in a tight grip, while a low, stern
+voice in his ear demanded:
+
+“Your money, and be quick about it!”
+
+Hogan was not a brave man, but this demand, in his impecunious
+condition, instead of terrifying him, struck his sense of humor as
+an exceedingly good joke.
+
+“You’ve got the wrong man!” he chuckled.
+
+“Stop your fooling, and hand over your money, quickly!” was the
+stern rejoinder.
+
+“My dear friend,” said Hogan, “if you can find any money about me,
+it’s more than I can do myself.”
+
+“Are you on the square?” demanded the other suspiciously.
+
+“Look at me, and see.”
+
+The highwayman took him at his word. Lighting a match, he surveyed
+his captive.
+
+“You don’t look wealthy, that’s a fact,” he admitted. “Where are
+you going?”
+
+“I don’t know. I haven’t got any money, nor any place to sleep.”
+
+“Then you’d better be leaving this place, or another mistake may be
+made.”
+
+“Stop!” said Hogan, with a sudden thought. “Though I haven’t any
+money, I can tell you where we can both find some.”
+
+“Do you mean it?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Come in here, then, and come to business.”
+
+He led Hogan into a low shanty on Pacific Street, and, bidding him
+be seated on a broken settee, waited for particulars.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+READY FOR MISCHIEF
+
+
+Though Hogan was a scamp in the superlative degree, the burly
+ruffian who seated himself by his side looked the character much
+better. He was not a man to beat about the bush. As he expressed
+it, he wanted to come to business at once.
+
+“What’s your game, pard?” he demanded. “Out with it.”
+
+Hogan’s plan, as the reader has already surmised, was to break into
+Joe’s restaurant and seize whatever money he might be found to have
+on the premises. He recommended it earnestly, for two reasons.
+First, a share of the money would be welcome; and, secondly,
+he would be gratified to revenge himself upon the boy, whom he
+disliked because he had injured him.
+
+Jack Rafferty listened in silence.
+
+“I don’t know about it,” he said. “There’s a risk.”
+
+“I don’t see any risk. We two ought to be a match for a boy.”
+
+“Of course we are. If we wasn’t I’d go hang myself up for a
+milksop. Are you sure there’s no one else with him?”
+
+“Not a soul.”
+
+“That’s well, so far; but we might be seen from the outside.”
+
+“We can keep watch.”
+
+“Do you think the boy’s got much money about him?”
+
+“Yes; he’s making money hand over fist. He’s one of those mean
+chaps that never spend a cent, but lay it all by. Bah!”
+
+So Hogan expressed his contempt for Joe’s frugality.
+
+“All the better for us. How much might there be now, do you think?”
+
+“Five hundred dollars, likely.”
+
+“That’s worth risking something for,” said Jack thoughtfully.
+
+“We’ll share alike?” inquired Hogan anxiously.
+
+“Depends on how much you help about gettin’ the money,” said Jack
+carelessly.
+
+Hogan, who was not very courageous, did not dare push the matter
+though he would have liked a more definite assurance. However,
+he had another motive besides the love of money, and was glad to
+have the cooperation of Rafferty, though secretly afraid of his
+ruffianly accomplice.
+
+It was agreed to wait till midnight. Till then both men threw
+themselves down and slept.
+
+As the clock indicated midnight, Rafferty shook Hogan roughly.
+
+The latter sat up and gazed, in terrified bewilderment, at Jack,
+who was leaning over him, forgetting for the moment the compact
+into which he had entered.
+
+“What do you want?” he ejaculated.
+
+“It’s time we were about our business,” growled Jack.
+
+“It’s struck twelve.”
+
+“All right!” responded Hogan, who began to feel nervous, now that
+the crisis was at hand.
+
+“Don’t sit rubbing your eyes, man, but get up.”
+
+“Haven’t you got a drop of something to brace me up?” asked Hogan
+nervously.
+
+“What are you scared of, pard?” asked Rafferty contemptuously.
+
+“Nothing,” answered Hogan, “but I feel dry.”
+
+“All right. A drop of something will warm us both up.”
+
+Jack went behind the counter, and, selecting a bottle of rot-gut
+whisky, poured out a stiff glassful apiece.
+
+“Drink it, pard,” he said.
+
+Hogan did so, nothing loath.
+
+“That’s the right sort,” he said, smacking his lips. “It’s warming
+to the stomach.”
+
+So it was and a frequent indulgence in the vile liquid would
+probably have burned his stomach and unfitted it for service. But
+the momentary effect was stimulating, and inspired Hogan with a
+kind of Dutch courage, which raised him in the opinion of his burly
+confederate.
+
+“Push ahead, pard,” said he. “I’m on hand.”
+
+“That’s the way to talk,” said Rafferty approvingly. “If we’re
+lucky, we’ll be richer before morning.”
+
+Through the dark streets, unlighted and murky, the two confederates
+made their stealthy way, and in five minutes stood in front of
+Joe’s restaurant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+CHECKMATED
+
+
+Everything looked favorable for their plans. Of course, the
+restaurant was perfectly dark, and the street was quite deserted.
+
+“How shall we get in?” asked Hogan of his more experienced
+accomplice.
+
+“No trouble--through the winder.”
+
+Rafferty had served an apprenticeship at the burglar’s trade, and
+was not long in opening the front window. He had no light and could
+not see that Joe had a companion. If he had discovered this, he
+would have been more cautious.
+
+“Go in and get the money,” said he to Hogan.
+
+He thought it possible that Hogan might object, but the latter had
+a reason for consenting. He thought he might obtain for himself the
+lion’s share of the plunder, while, as to risk, there would be no
+one but Joe to cope with, and Hogan knew that in physical strength
+he must be more than a match for a boy of sixteen.
+
+“All right!” said Hogan. “You stay at the window and give the alarm
+if we are seen.”
+
+Rafferty was prompted by a suspicion of Hogan’s good faith in
+the proposal he made to him. His ready compliance lulled this
+suspicion, and led him to reflect that, perhaps, he could do the
+work better himself.
+
+“No,” said he. “I’ll go in and you keep watch at the winder.”
+
+“I’m willing to go in,” said Hogan, fearing that he would not get
+his fair share of the plunder.
+
+“You stay where you are, pard!” said Rafferty, in a tone of
+command. “I’ll manage this thing myself.”
+
+“Just as you say,” said Hogan, slightly disappointed.
+
+Rafferty clambered into the room, making as little noise as
+possible. He stood still a moment, to accustom his eyes to the
+darkness. His plan was to discover where Joe lay, wake him
+up, and force him, by threats of instant death as the penalty
+for non-compliance, to deliver up all the money he had in the
+restaurant.
+
+Now, it happened that Joe and his guest slept in opposite corners
+of the room. Rafferty discovered Joe, but was entirely ignorant of
+the presence of another person in the apartment.
+
+Joe waked on being rudely shaken.
+
+“Who is it?” he muttered drowsily.
+
+“Never mind who it is!” growled Jack in his ear. “It’s a man
+that’ll kill you if you don’t give up all the money you’ve got
+about you!”
+
+Joe was fully awake now, and realized the situation. He felt
+thankful that he was not alone, and it instantly flashed upon him
+that Watson had a revolver. But Watson was asleep. To obtain time
+to form a plan, he parleyed a little.
+
+“You want my money?” he asked, appearing to be confused.
+
+“Yes--and at once! Refuse, and I will kill you!”
+
+I won’t pretend to deny that Joe’s heart beat a little quicker than
+its wont. He was thinking busily. How could he attract Watson’s
+attention?
+
+“It’s pretty hard, but I suppose I must,” he answered.
+
+“That’s the way to talk.”
+
+“Let me get up and I’ll get it.”
+
+Joe spoke so naturally that Rafferty suspected nothing. He
+permitted our hero to rise, supposing that he was going for the
+money he demanded.
+
+Joe knew exactly where Watson lay and went over to him. He knelt
+down and drew out the revolver from beneath his head, at the
+same time pushing him, in the hope of arousing him. The push was
+effectual. Watson was a man whose experience at the mines had
+taught him to rouse at once. He just heard Joe say:
+
+“Hush!”
+
+“What are you so long about?” demanded Rafferty suspiciously.
+
+“I’ve got a revolver,” said Joe unexpectedly; “and, if you don’t
+leave the room, I’ll fire!”
+
+With an oath, Rafferty, who was no coward, sprang upon Joe, and it
+would have gone hard with him but for Watson. The latter was now
+broad awake. He seized Rafferty by the collar, and, dashing him
+backward upon the floor, threw himself upon him.
+
+“Two can play at that game!” said he. “Light the candle, Joe.”
+
+“Help, pard!” called Rafferty.
+
+But Hogan, on whom he called, suspecting how matters stood, was in
+full flight.
+
+The candle was lighted, and in the struggling ruffian Joe
+recognized the man who, three months before, had robbed him of his
+little all.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+NOT WHOLLY BLACK
+
+
+“I know this man, Mr. Watson,” said Joe.
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+“He is the same man who robbed me of my money one night about three
+months ago--the one I told you of.”
+
+For the first time, Rafferty recognized Joe.
+
+“There wasn’t enough to make a fuss about,” he said. “There was
+only two dollars and a half.”
+
+“It was all I had.”
+
+“Let me up!” said Rafferty, renewing his struggles.
+
+“Joe, have you got a rope?” asked Watson.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Bring it here, then. I can’t hold this man all night.”
+
+“What are you going to do with me?” demanded Rafferty uneasily.
+
+“Tie you hand and foot till to-morrow morning and then deliver you
+over to the authorities.”
+
+“No, you won’t!”
+
+He made a renewed struggle, but Watson was a man with muscles of
+iron, and the attempt was unsuccessful.
+
+It was not without considerable difficulty, however, that the
+midnight intruder was secured. When, at length, he was bound hand
+and foot, Watson withdrew to a little distance. Joe and he looked
+at Rafferty, and each felt that he had seldom seen a more brutal
+face.
+
+“Well,” growled Rafferty, “I hope you are satisfied?”
+
+“Not yet,” returned Watson. “When you are delivered into the hands
+of the authorities we shall be satisfied.”
+
+“Oh, for an hour’s freedom!” muttered Jack Rafferty, expressing his
+thoughts aloud.
+
+“What use would you make of it?” asked Watson, in a tone of
+curiosity.
+
+“I’d kill the man that led me into this trap!”
+
+Watson and Joe were surprised.
+
+“Was there such a man. Didn’t you come here alone?”
+
+“No; there was a man got me to come. Curse him, He told me I would
+only find the boy here!”
+
+“What has become of him?”
+
+“He ran away, I reckon, instead of standing by me.”
+
+“Where was he?”
+
+“At the winder.”
+
+“Could it have been Hogan?” thought Joe.
+
+“I think I know the man,” said our hero. “I’ll describe the man I
+mean and you can tell me if it was he.”
+
+He described Hogan as well as he could.
+
+“That’s the man,” said Rafferty. “I wouldn’t peach if he hadn’t
+served me such a mean trick. What’s his name?”
+
+“His name is Hogan. He came over on the same steamer with me,
+after robbing me of fifty dollars in New York. He has been at the
+mines, but didn’t make out well. This very afternoon I gave him
+supper--all he could eat--and charged him nothing for it. He repays
+me by planning a robbery.”
+
+“He’s a mean skunk,” said Watson bluntly.
+
+“You’re right, stranger,” said Rafferty. “I’m a scamp myself, but
+I’ll be blowed if I’d turn on a man that fed me when I was hungry.”
+
+The tones were gruff but the man was evidently sincere.
+
+“You’re better than you look,” said Watson, surprised to hear such
+a sentiment from a man of such ruffianly appearance.
+
+Jack Rafferty laughed shortly.
+
+“I ain’t used to compliments,” he said, “and I expect I’m bad
+enough, but I ain’t all bad. I won’t turn on my pal, unless he does
+it first, and I ain’t mean enough to rob a man that’s done me a
+good turn.”
+
+“No, you ain’t all bad,” said Watson. “It’s a pity you won’t make
+up your mind to earn an honest living.”
+
+“Too late for that, I reckon. What do you think they’ll do with me?”
+
+In those days punishments were summary and severe. Watson knew it
+and Joe had seen something of it. Our hero began to feel compassion
+for the foiled burglar. He whispered in Watson’s ear. Watson
+hesitated, but finally yielded.
+
+“Stranger,” said he, “the boy wants me to let you go.”
+
+“Does he?” inquired Rafferty, in surprise.
+
+“Yes. He is afraid it will go hard with you if we give you up.”
+
+“Likely it will,” muttered Rafferty, watching Watson’s face
+eagerly, to see whether he favored Joe’s proposal.
+
+“Suppose we let you go--will you promise not to make another
+attempt upon this place?”
+
+“What do you take me for? I’m not such a mean cuss as that.”
+
+“One thing more--you won’t kill this man that brought you here?”
+
+“If I knowed it wasn’t a trap he led me into. He told me there was
+only the boy.”
+
+“He thought so. I don’t belong here. The boy let me sleep here out
+of kindness. Hogan knew nothing of this. I didn’t come till after
+he had left.”
+
+“That’s different,” said Rafferty; “but he shouldn’t have gone back
+on me.”
+
+“He is a coward, probably.”
+
+“I guess you’re right,” said Rafferty contemptuously.
+
+“You promise, then?”
+
+“Not to kill him? Yes.”
+
+“Then we’ll let you go.”
+
+Watson unloosed the bonds that confined the prisoner. Rafferty
+raised himself to his full height and stretched his limbs.
+
+“There--I feel better,” he said. “You tied the rope pretty tight.”
+
+“I found it necessary,” said Watson, laughing. “Now, Joe, if you
+will open the door, this gentleman will pass out.”
+
+Rafferty turned to Joe, as he was about to leave the restaurant.
+
+“Boy,” said he, “I won’t forget this. I ain’t much of a friend to
+boast of, but I’m your friend. You’ve saved me from prison, and
+worse, it’s likely; and, if you need help any time, send for me. If
+I had that money I took from you I’d pay it back.”
+
+“I don’t need it,” said Joe. “I’ve been lucky, and am doing well. I
+hope you’ll make up your mind to turn over a new leaf. If you do,
+and are ever hard up for a meal, come to me, and you shall have it
+without money and without price.”
+
+“Thank you, boy,” said Rafferty. “I’ll remember it.”
+
+He strode out of the restaurant, and disappeared in the darkness.
+
+“Human nature’s a curious thing, Joe,” said Watson. “Who would have
+expected to find any redeeming quality in such a man as that?”
+
+“I would sooner trust him than Hogan.”
+
+“So would I. Hogan is a mean scoundrel, who is not so much of a
+ruffian as this man only because he is too much of a coward to be.”
+
+“I am glad we let him go,” said Joe.
+
+“I am not sure whether it was best, but I knew we should have to
+be awake all night if we didn’t. He could have loosened the knots
+after awhile. He won’t trouble you any more.”
+
+“I wish I felt as sure about Hogan,” said Joe.
+
+“Hogan is a coward. I advise you to keep a revolver constantly on
+hand. He won’t dare to break in by himself.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning, after breakfast, Watson prepared to go out in
+search of work.
+
+“I must begin at the bottom of the ladder once more,” he said to
+Joe. “It’s my own fault, and I won’t complain. But what a fool I
+have been! I might have gone home by the next steamer if I hadn’t
+gambled away all my hard earnings.”
+
+“What sort of work shall you try to get?”
+
+“Anything--I have no right to be particular. Anything that will pay
+my expenses and give me a chance to lay by something for my family
+at home.”
+
+“Mr. Watson,” said Joe suddenly, “I’ve been thinking of something
+that may suit you. Since I came to San Francisco I have never gone
+outside. I would like to go to the mines.”
+
+“You wouldn’t make as much as you do here.”
+
+“Perhaps not; but I have laid by some money and I would like to see
+something of the country. Will you carry on the restaurant for me
+for three months, if I give you your board and half of the profits?”
+
+“Will I? I should think myself very lucky to get the chance.”
+
+“Then you shall have the chance.”
+
+“How do you know that I can be trusted?” asked Watson.
+
+“I haven’t known you long,” said Joe, “but I feel confidence in
+your honesty.”
+
+“I don’t think you’ll repent your confidence. When do you want to
+go?”
+
+“I’ll stay here a few days, till you get used to the business, then
+I will start.”
+
+“I was lucky to fall in with you,” said Watson. “I didn’t want to
+go back to the mines and tell the boys what a fool I have been. I
+begin to think there’s a chance for me yet.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+MR. BICKFORD, OF PUMPKIN HOLLOW
+
+
+It may be thought that Joe was rash in deciding to leave his
+business in the hands of a man whose acquaintance he had made but
+twelve hours previous. But in the early history of California
+friendships ripened fast. There was more confidence between man
+and man, and I am assured that even now, though the State is more
+settled and as far advanced in civilization and refinement as any
+of her sister States on the Atlantic coast, the people are bound
+together by more friendly ties, and exhibit less of cold caution
+than at the East. At all events, Joe never dreamed of distrusting
+his new acquaintance. A common peril, successfully overcome, had
+doubtless something to do in strengthening the bond between them.
+
+Joe went round to his friend Mr. Morgan and announced his intention.
+
+“I don’t think you will make money by your new plan, Joe,” said
+Morgan.
+
+“I don’t expect to,” said Joe, “but I want to see the mines. If I
+don’t succeed, I can come back to my business here.”
+
+“That is true. I should like very well to go, too.”
+
+“Why won’t you, Mr. Morgan?”
+
+“I cannot leave my business as readily as you can. Do you feel
+confidence in this man whom you are leaving in charge?”
+
+“Yes, sir. He has been unlucky, but I am sure he is honest.”
+
+“He will have considerable money belonging to you by the time you
+return--that is, if you stay any length of time.”
+
+“I want to speak to you about that, Mr. Morgan. I have directed him
+to make a statement to you once a month, and put in your hands what
+money comes to me--if it won’t trouble you too much.”
+
+“Not at all, Joe. I shall be glad to be of service to you.”
+
+“If you meet with any good investment for the money while I am
+away, I should like to have you act for me as you would for
+yourself.”
+
+“All right, Joe.”
+
+Joe learned from Watson that the latter had been mining on the
+Yuba River, not far from the town of Marysville. He decided to go
+there, although he might have found mines nearer the city. The next
+question was, How should he get there, and should he go alone?
+
+About this time a long, lank Yankee walked into the restaurant,
+one day, and, seating himself at a table, began to inspect the
+bill of fare which Joe used to write up every morning. He looked
+disappointed.
+
+“Don’t you find what you want?” inquired Joe.
+
+“No,” said the visitor. “I say, this is a queer country. I’ve been
+hankerin’ arter a good dish of baked beans for a week, and ain’t
+found any.”
+
+“We sometimes have them,” said Joe. “Come here at one o’clock, and
+you shall be accommodated.”
+
+The stranger brightened up.
+
+“That’s the talk,” said he. “I’ll come.”
+
+“Have you just come out here?” asked Joe curiously.
+
+“A week ago.”
+
+“Are you a Southerner?” asked Joe demurely.
+
+“No, I guess not!” said the Yankee, with emphasis.
+
+“I was raised in Pumpkin Hollow, State of Maine. I was twenty-one
+last first of April, but I ain’t no April fool, I tell you. Dad and
+me carried on the farm till I began to hear tell of Californy. I’d
+got about three hundred dollars saved up and I took it to come out
+here.”
+
+“I suppose you’ve come out to make your fortune?”
+
+“Yes, sir-ee, that’s just what I come for.”
+
+“How have you succeeded so far?”
+
+“I’ve succeeded in spendin’ all my money, except fifty dollars. I
+say, it costs a sight to eat and drink out here. I can’t afford to
+take but one meal a day, and then I eat like all possessed.”
+
+“I should think you would, Mr.----”
+
+“Joshua Bickford--that’s my name when I’m to hum.”
+
+“Well, Mr. Bickford, what are your plans?”
+
+“I want to go out to the mines and dig gold. I guess I can dig as
+well as anybody. I’ve had experience in diggin’ ever since I was
+ten year old.”
+
+“Not digging gold, I suppose?”
+
+“Diggin’ potatoes, and sich.”
+
+“I’m going to the mines myself, Mr. Bickford. What do you say to
+going along with me?”
+
+“I’m on hand. You know the way, don’t you?”
+
+“We can find it, I have no doubt. I have never been there, but my
+friend Mr. Watson is an experienced miner.”
+
+“How much gold did you dig?” asked Joshua bluntly.
+
+“Two thousand dollars,” answered Watson, not thinking it necessary
+to add that he had parted with the money since at the gaming-table.
+
+“Two thousand dollars?” exclaimed Joshua, duly impressed. “That’s a
+heap of money!”
+
+“Yes; it’s a pretty good pile.”
+
+“I’d like to get that much. I know what I’d do.”
+
+“What would you do, Mr. Bickford?”
+
+“I’d go home and marry Sukey Smith, by gosh!”
+
+“Then I hope you’ll get the money, for Miss Smith’s sake.”
+
+“There’s a feller hangin’ round her,” said Joshua, “kinder
+slick-lookin’, with his hair parted in the middle; he tends in the
+dry-goods store; but, if I come home with two thousand dollars,
+she’ll have me, I guess. Why, with two thousand dollars I can buy
+the farm next to dad’s, with a house with five rooms into it, and
+a good-sized barn. I guess Sukey wouldn’t say no to me then, but
+would change her name to Bickford mighty sudden.”
+
+“I hope you will succeed in your plans, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“Seems to me you’re kinder young to be out here,” said Bickford,
+turning his attention to Joe.
+
+“Yes; I am not quite old enough to think of marrying.”
+
+“Have you got money enough to get out to the mines?” asked Joshua
+cautiously.
+
+“I think I can raise enough,” said Joe, smiling.
+
+“My young friend is the owner of this restaurant,” said Watson.
+
+“You don’t say! I thought you hired him.”
+
+“No. On the contrary, I am in his employ. I have agreed to run the
+restaurant for him while he is at the mines.”
+
+“You don’t say!” exclaimed Bickford, surveying our hero with
+curiosity. “Have you made much money in this eating-house?”
+
+“I’ve done pretty well,” said Joe modestly. “I own the building and
+the two adjoining lots.”
+
+“You don’t say! How old be you?”
+
+“Sixteen.”
+
+“You must be all-fired smart!”
+
+“I don’t know about that, Mr. Bickford. I’ve been lucky and fallen
+in with good friends.”
+
+“Well, I guess Californy’s the place to make money. I ain’t made
+any yet, but I mean to. There wasn’t no chance to get ahead in
+Pumpkin Hollow. I was workin’ for eight dollars a month and board.”
+
+“It would be a great while before you could save up money to buy a
+farm out of that, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“That’s so.”
+
+“My experience was something like yours. Before I came out here I
+was working on a farm.”
+
+“Sho!”
+
+“And I didn’t begin to get as much money as you. I was bound out
+to a farmer for my board and clothes. The board was fair but the
+clothes were few and poor.”
+
+“You don’t say!”
+
+“I hope you will be as lucky as I have been.”
+
+“How much are you worth now?” asked Joshua curiously.
+
+“From one to two thousand dollars, I expect.”
+
+“Sho! I never did! How long have you been out here?”
+
+“Three months.”
+
+“Je-rusalem! That’s better than stayin’ to hum.”
+
+“I think so.”
+
+By this time Mr. Bickford had completed his breakfast and in an
+anxious tone he inquired:
+
+“What’s the damage?”
+
+“Oh, I won’t charge you anything, as you are going to be my
+traveling companion,” said Joe.
+
+“You’re a gentleman, by gosh!” exclaimed Mr. Bickford, in
+unrestrained delight.
+
+“Come in at one o’clock and you shall have some of your favorite
+beans and nothing to pay. Can you start for the mines to-morrow?”
+
+“Yes--I’ve got nothin’ to prepare.”
+
+“Take your meals here till we go.”
+
+“Well, I’m in luck,” said Bickford. “Victuals cost awful out here
+and I haven’t had as much as I wanted to eat since I got here.”
+
+“Consider yourself my guest,” said Joe, “and eat all you want to.”
+
+It may be remarked that Mr. Bickford availed himself of our young
+hero’s invitation, and during the next twenty-four hours stowed
+away enough provisions to last an ordinary man for half a week.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+THE MAN FROM PIKE COUNTY
+
+
+Four days later Joe and his Yankee friend, mounted on mustangs,
+were riding through a cañon a hundred miles from San Francisco. It
+was late in the afternoon, and the tall trees shaded the path on
+which they were traveling. The air was unusually chilly and after
+the heat of midday they felt it.
+
+“I don’t feel like campin’ out to-night,” said Bickford. “It’s too
+cool.”
+
+“I don’t think we shall find any hotels about here,” said Joe.
+
+“Don’t look like it. I’d like to be back in Pumpkin Hollow just for
+to-night. How fur is it to the mines, do you calc’late?”
+
+“We are probably about half-way. We ought to reach the Yuba River
+inside of a week.”
+
+Here Mr. Bickford’s mustang deliberately stopped and began to
+survey the scenery calmly.
+
+“What do you mean, you pesky critter?” demanded Joshua.
+
+The mustang turned his head and glanced composedly at the burden he
+was carrying.
+
+“G’lang!” said Joshua, and he brought down his whip on the flanks
+of the animal.
+
+It is not in mustang nature to submit to such an outrage without
+expressing proper resentment. The animal threw up its hind legs,
+lowering its head at the same time, and Joshua Bickford, describing
+a sudden somersault, found himself sitting down on the ground a few
+feet in front of his horse, not seriously injured, but considerably
+bewildered.
+
+“By gosh!” he ejaculated.
+
+“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to dismount, Mr. Bickford?”
+asked Joe, his eyes twinkling with merriment.
+
+“Because I didn’t know it myself,” said Joshua, rising and rubbing
+his jarred frame.
+
+The mustang did not offer to run away, but stood calmly surveying
+him as if it had had nothing to do with his rider’s sudden
+dismounting.
+
+“Darn the critter! He looks just as if nothing had happened,” said
+Joshua. “He served me a mean trick.”
+
+“It was a gentle hint that he was tired,” said Joe.
+
+“Darn the beast! I don’t like his hints,” said Mr. Bickford.
+
+He prepared to mount the animal, but the latter rose on its hind
+legs and very clearly intimated that the proposal was not agreeable.
+
+“What’s got into the critter?” said Joshua.
+
+“He wants to rest. Suppose we rest here for half-an-hour, while we
+loosen check-rein and let the horses graze.”
+
+“Just as you say.”
+
+Joshua’s steed appeared pleased with the success of his little hint
+and lost no time in availing himself of the freedom accorded him.
+
+“I wish I was safe at the mines,” said Joshua. “What would dad say
+if he knowed where I was, right out here in the wilderness? It
+looks as we might be the only human critters in the world. There
+ain’t no house in sight, nor any signs of man’s ever bein’ here.”
+
+“So we can fancy how Adam felt when he was set down in Paradise,”
+said Joe.
+
+“I guess he felt kinder lonely.”
+
+“Probably he did, till Eve came. He had Eve, and I have you for
+company.”
+
+“I guess Eve wasn’t much like me,” said Joshua, with a grin.
+
+He was lying at full length on the greensward, looking awkward and
+ungainly enough, but his countenance, homely as it was, looked
+honest and trustworthy, and Joe preferred his company to that of
+many possessed of more outward polish. He could not help smiling at
+Mr. Bickford’s remark.
+
+“Probably Eve was not as robust as you are,” he replied, “I doubt
+if she were as tall, either. But as to loneliness, it is better to
+be lonely than to have some company.”
+
+“There ain’t no suspicious characters round, are there?” inquired
+Joshua anxiously.
+
+“We are liable to meet them--men who have been unsuccessful at the
+mines and who have become desperate in consequence, and others who
+came out here to prey upon others. That’s what I hear.”
+
+“Do you think we shall meet any of the critters?” asked Joshua.
+
+“I hope not. They wouldn’t find it very profitable to attack us. We
+haven’t much money.”
+
+“I haven’t,” said Joshua. “I couldn’t have got to the mines if you
+hadn’t lent me a few dollars.”
+
+“You have your animal. You can sell him for something.”
+
+“If he agrees to carry me so far,” said Mr. Bickford, gazing
+doubtfully at the mustang, who was evidently enjoying his evening
+repast.
+
+“Oh, a hearty meal will make him good-natured. That is the way it
+acts with boys and men, and animals are not so very different.”
+
+“I guess you’re right,” said Joshua. “When I wanted to get a favor
+out of dad, I always used to wait till the old man had got his
+belly full. That made him kinder good-natured.”
+
+“I see you understand human nature, Mr. Bickford,” said Joe.
+
+“I guess I do,” said Joshua complacently. “Great Jehoshaphat, who’s
+that?”
+
+Joe raised his head and saw riding toward them a man who might have
+sat for the photograph of a bandit without any alteration in his
+countenance or apparel. He wore a red flannel shirt, pants of rough
+cloth, a Mexican sombrero, had a bowie-knife stuck in his girdle,
+and displayed a revolver rather ostentatiously. His hair, which he
+wore long, was coarse and black, and he had a fierce mustache.
+
+“Is he a robber?” asked Joshua uneasily.
+
+“Even if he is,” said Joe, “we are two to one. I dare say he’s all
+right, but keep your weapon ready.”
+
+Though Joe was but a boy and Bickford a full-grown man, from
+the outset he had assumed the command of the party, and issued
+directions which his older companion followed implicitly. The
+explanation is that Joe had a mind of his own, and decided promptly
+what was best to be done, while his long-limbed associate was
+duller witted and undecided.
+
+Joe and Joshua maintained their sitting position till the stranger
+was within a rod or two, when he hailed them.
+
+“How are ye, strangers?” he said.
+
+“Pretty comfortable,” said Joshua, reassured by his words. “How
+fare you?”
+
+“You’re a Yank, ain’t you?” said the newcomer, disregarding
+Joshua’s question.
+
+“I reckon so. Where might you hail from?”
+
+“I’m from Pike County, Missouri,” was the answer. “You’ve heard of
+Pike, hain’t you?”
+
+“I don’t know as I have,” said Mr. Bickford.
+
+The stranger frowned.
+
+“You must have been born in the woods not to have heard of Pike
+County,” he said. “The smartest fighters come from Pike. I kin whip
+my weight in wildcats, am a match for a dozen Indians to onst, and
+can tackle a lion without flinchin’.”
+
+“Sho!” said Joshua, considerably impressed.
+
+“Won’t you stop and rest with us?” said Joe politely.
+
+“I reckon I will,” said the Pike man, getting off his beast. “You
+don’t happen to have a bottle of whisky with you, strangers?”
+
+“No,” said Joe.
+
+The newcomer looked disappointed.
+
+“I wish you had,” said he. “I feel as dry as a tinder-box. Where
+might you be travelin’?”
+
+“We are bound for the mines on the Yuba River.”
+
+“That’s a long way off.”
+
+“Yes, it’s four or five days’ ride.”
+
+“I’ve been there, and I don’t like it. It’s too hard work for a
+gentleman.”
+
+This was uttered in such a magnificent tone of disdain that Joe was
+rather amused at the fellow. In his red shirt and coarse breeches,
+and brown, not overclean skin, he certainly didn’t look much like a
+gentleman in the conventional sense of that term.
+
+“It’s all well enough to be a gentleman if you’ve got money to fall
+back on,” remarked Joshua sensibly.
+
+“Is that personal?” demanded the Pike County man, frowning and half
+rising.
+
+“It’s personal to me,” said Joshua quietly.
+
+“I accept the apology,” said the newcomer, sinking back upon the
+turf.
+
+“I hain’t apologized, as I’m aware,” said Joshua, who was no craven.
+
+“You’d better not rile me, stranger,” said the Pike man fiercely.
+“You don’t know me, you don’t. I’m a rip-tail roarer, I am. I
+always kill a man who insults me.”
+
+“So do we,” said Joe quietly.
+
+The Pike County man looked at Joe in some surprise. He had expected
+to frighten the boy with his bluster, but it didn’t seem to produce
+the effect intended.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+A DESPERADO
+
+
+Mr. Bickford also seemed a little surprised at Joe’s coolness.
+Though not a coward in the face of danger, he had been somewhat
+impressed by the fierce aspect of the man from Pike County, and
+really looked upon him as a reckless daredevil who was afraid of
+nothing. Joe judged him more truly. He decided that a man who
+boasted so loudly was a sham. If he had talked less, he would have
+feared him more.
+
+After his last bloodthirsty declaration the man from Pike County
+temporarily subsided.
+
+He drew out from his pocket a greasy pack of cards, and after
+skilfully shuffling them inquired:
+
+“What do you say, strangers, to a little game to pass away the
+time?”
+
+“I never played keards in my life,” said Joshua Bickford.
+
+“Where was you raised?” demanded the Pike man contemptuously.
+
+“Pumpkin Hollow, State o’ Maine,” said Joshua. “Dad’s an orthodox
+deacon. He never let any of us play keards. I don’t know one from
+t’other.”
+
+“I’ll learn you,” said the Pike man condescendingly. “Suppose we
+have a game of poker?”
+
+“Ain’t that a gambling’ game?” inquired Joshua.
+
+“We always play for something,” said the Pike man. “It’s dern
+foolishness playin’ for nothing. Shall we have a game?”
+
+He looked at Joe as he spoke.
+
+“I don’t care to play,” said our hero. “I don’t know much about
+cards, and I don’t want to play for money.”
+
+“That’s dern foolishness,” said the stranger, whose object it was
+to clean out his new friends, being an expert gambler.
+
+“Perhaps it is,” said Joe, “but I only speak for myself. Mr.
+Bickford may feel differently.”
+
+“Will you take a hand, Bickford?” asked the Pike man, thinking
+it possible that Joshua might have some money of which he could
+relieve him.
+
+“You kin show me how to play if you want to,” said Joshua, “but I
+won’t gamble any.”
+
+The Pike man put up his pack of cards in disgust.
+
+“Derned if I ever met sich fellers!” he said. “You’re Methodists,
+ain’t you?”
+
+“We generally decline doing what we don’t want to do,” said Joe.
+
+“Look here, boy,” blustered the Pike man, “I reckon you don’t know
+me. I’m from Pike County, Missouri, I am. I’m a rip-tail roarer, I
+am. I kin whip my weight in wildcats.”
+
+“You told us that afore,” said Joshua placidly.
+
+“Derned if I don’t mean it, too!” exclaimed the Pike County man,
+with a fierce frown. “Do you know how I served a man last week?”
+
+“No. Tell us, won’t you?” said Joshua.
+
+“We was ridin’ together over in Alameda County. We’d met
+permiscuous, like we’ve met to-day. I was tellin’ him how four
+b’ars attacked me once, and I fit ’em all single-handed, when he
+laughed, and said he reckoned I’d been drinkin’ and saw double. If
+he’d knowed me better, he wouldn’t have done it.”
+
+“What did you do?” asked Joshua, interested.
+
+Joe, who was satisfied that the fellow was romancing, did not
+exhibit any interest.
+
+“What did I do?” echoed the Pike County man fiercely. “I told him
+he didn’t know the man he insulted. I told him I was from Pike
+County, Missouri, and that I was a rip-tail roarer.”
+
+“And could whip your weight in wildcats,” suggested Joe.
+
+The Pike man appeared irritated.
+
+“Don’t interrupt me, boy,” he said. “It ain’t healthy.”
+
+“After you’d made them remarks what did you do?” inquired Joshua.
+
+“I told him he’d insulted me and must fight. I always do that.”
+
+“Did he fight?”
+
+“He had to.”
+
+“How did it come out?”
+
+“I shot him through the heart,” said the man from Pike County
+fiercely. “His bones are bleaching in the valley where he fell.”
+
+“Sho!” said Joshua.
+
+The Pike County man looked from one to the other to see what effect
+had been produced by his blood-curdling narration. Joshua looked
+rather perplexed, as if he didn’t quite know what to think, but Joe
+seemed tranquil.
+
+“I think you said it happened last week,” said Joe.
+
+“If I said so, it is so,” said the Pike man, who in truth did not
+remember what time he had mentioned.
+
+“I don’t question that. I was only wondering how his bones could
+begin to bleach so soon after he was killed.”
+
+“Just so,” said Joshua, to whom this difficulty had not presented
+itself before.
+
+“Do you doubt my word, stranger?” exclaimed the Pike man, putting
+his hand to his side and fingering his knife.
+
+“Not at all,” said Joe. “But I wanted to understand how it was.”
+
+“I don’t give no explanations,” said the Pike man haughtily, “and I
+allow no man to doubt my word.”
+
+“Look here, my friend,” said Joshua, “ain’t you rather
+cantankerous?”
+
+“What’s that?” demanded the other suspiciously.
+
+“No offense,” said Joshua, “but you take a feller up so we don’t
+know exactly how to talk to you.”
+
+“I take no insults,” said the Pike man. “Insults must be washed out
+in blood.”
+
+“Soap-suds is better than blood for washin’ purposes,” said Joshua
+practically. “Seems to me you’re spoilin’ for a fight all the time.”
+
+“I allow I am,” said the Pike man, who regarded this as a
+compliment. “I was brought up on fightin’. When I was a boy I could
+whip any boy in school.”
+
+“That’s why they called you a rip-tail roarer, I guess,” said
+Joshua.
+
+“You’re right, stranger,” said the Pike man complacently.
+
+“What did you do when the teacher give you a lickin’?” asked Mr.
+Bickford.
+
+“What did I do?” yelled the Pike County man, with a demoniac frown.
+
+“Exactly so.”
+
+“I shot him!” said the Pike man briefly.
+
+“Sho! How many teachers did you shoot when you was a boy?”
+
+“Only one. The rest heard of it and never dared touch me.”
+
+“So you could play hookey and cut up all you wanted to?”
+
+“You’re right, stranger.”
+
+“They didn’t manage that way at Pumpkin Hollow,” said Mr. Bickford.
+“Boys ain’t quite so handy with shootin’-irons. When the master
+flogged us we had to stand it.”
+
+“Were you afraid of him?” asked the Pike man disdainfully.
+
+“Well, I was,” Joshua admitted. “He was a big man with arms just
+like flails, and the way he used to pound us was a caution.”
+
+“I’d have shot him in his tracks,” said the Pike man fiercely.
+
+“You’d have got a wallopin’ fust, I reckon,” said Joshua.
+
+“Do you mean to insult me?” demanded the Pike man.
+
+“Oh, lay down, and don’t be so cantankerous,” said Joshua. “You’re
+allus thinkin’ of bein’ insulted.”
+
+“We may as well be going,” said Joe, who was thoroughly disgusted
+with their new companion.
+
+“Just as you say, Joe,” said Joshua. “Here, you pesky critter, come
+and let me mount you.”
+
+The mustang realized Joe’s prediction. After his hearty supper he
+seemed to be quite tractable and permitted Mr. Bickford to mount
+him without opposition.
+
+Joe also mounted his horse.
+
+“I’ll ride along with you if you’ve no objections,” said the Pike
+man. “We kin camp together to-night.”
+
+So saying, he too mounted the sorry-looking steed which he had
+recently dismounted.
+
+Joe was not hypocrite enough to say that he was welcome. He thought
+it best to be candid.
+
+“If you are quite convinced that neither of us wishes to insult
+you,” he said quietly, “you can join us. If you are bent on
+quarreling, you had better ride on by yourself.”
+
+The Pike man frowned fiercely.
+
+“Boy,” he said, “I have shot a man for less than that.”
+
+“I carry a revolver,” said Joe quietly, “but I shan’t use it unless
+it is necessary. If you are so easily offended, you’d better ride
+on alone.”
+
+This the Pike man did not care to do.
+
+“You’re a strange boy,” he said, “but I reckon you’re on the
+square. I’ll go along with you.”
+
+“I would rather you’d leave us,” thought Joe, but he merely said:
+“Very well.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+TWO TRAGIC STORIES
+
+
+They rode on for about an hour and a half. Joshua’s steed, placated
+by his good supper, behaved very well. Their ride was still through
+the cañon. Presently it became too dark for them to proceed.
+
+“Ain’t we gone about fur enough for to-night?” asked Joshua.
+
+“Perhaps we have,” answered Joe.
+
+“Here’s a good place to camp,” suggested the man from Pike County,
+pointing to a small grove of trees to the right.
+
+“Very well; let us dismount,” said Joe. “I think we can pass the
+night comfortably.”
+
+They dismounted, and tied their beasts together under one of the
+trees. They then threw themselves down on a patch of greensward
+near-by.
+
+“I’m gettin’ hungry,” said Joshua. “Ain’t you, Joe?”
+
+“Yes, Mr. Bickford. We may as well take supper.”
+
+Mr. Bickford produced a supper of cold, meat and bread, and placed
+it between Joe and himself.
+
+“Won’t you share our supper?” said Joe to their companion.
+
+“Thank ye, stranger, I don’t mind if I do,” answered the Pike man,
+with considerable alacrity. “My fodder give out this mornin’, and I
+hain’t found any place to stock up.”
+
+He displayed such an appetite that Mr. Bickford regarded him with
+anxiety. They had no more than sufficient for themselves, and the
+prospect of such a boarder was truly alarming.
+
+“You have a healthy appetite, my friend,” he said.
+
+“I generally have,” said the Pike man. “You’d orter have some
+whisky, strangers, to wash it down with.”
+
+“I’d rather have a good cup of coffee sweetened with ’lasses, sech
+as marm makes to hum,” remarked Mr. Bickford.
+
+“Coffee is for children, whisky for strong men,” said the Roarer.
+
+“I prefer the coffee,” said Joe.
+
+“Are you temperance fellers?” inquired the Pike man contemptuously.
+
+“I am,” said Joe.
+
+“And I, too,” said Joshua.
+
+“Bah!” said the other disdainfully; “I’d as soon drink skim-milk.
+Good whisky or brandy for me.”
+
+“I wish we was to your restaurant, Joe,” said Joshua. “I kinder
+hanker after some good baked beans. Baked beans and brown bread are
+scrumptious. Ever eat ’em, stranger?”
+
+“No,” said the Pike man; “none of your Yankee truck for me.”
+
+“I guess you don’t know what’s good,” said Mr. Bickford. “What’s
+your favorite vittles?”
+
+“Bacon and hominy, hoe-cakes and whisky.”
+
+“Well,” said Joshua, “it depends on the way a feller is brung
+up. I go for baked beans and brown bread, and punkin pie--that’s
+goloptious. Ever eat punkin pie, stranger?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Like it?”
+
+“I don’t lay much on it.”
+
+Supper was over and other subjects succeeded. The Pike County man
+became social.
+
+“Strangers,” said he, “did you ever hear of the affair I had with
+Jack Scott?”
+
+“No,” said Joshua. “Spin it off, will you?”
+
+“Jack and me used to be a heap together. We went huntin’ together,
+camped out for weeks together, and was like two brothers. One day
+we was ridin’ out, when a deer started up fifty rods ahead. We both
+raised our guns and shot at him. There was only one bullet into
+him, and I knowed that was mine.”
+
+“How did you know it?” inquired Joshua.
+
+“Don’t you get curious, stranger. I knowed it, and that was enough.
+But Jack said it was his. ‘It’s my deer,’ he said, ‘for you missed
+your shot.’ ‘Look here, Jack,’ said I, ‘you’re mistaken. You missed
+it. Don’t you think I know my own bullet?’ ‘No, I don’t,’ said
+he. ‘Jack,’ said I calmly, ‘don’t talk that way. It’s dangerous.’
+‘Do you think I’m afraid of you?’ he said, turning on me. ‘Jack,’
+said I, ‘don’t provoke me. I can whip my weight in wildcats.’ ‘You
+can’t whip me,’ said he. That was too much for me to stand. I’m
+the Rip-tail Roarer from Pike County, Missouri, and no man can
+insult me and live. ‘Jack,’ said I, ‘we’ve been friends, but you’ve
+insulted me, and it must be washed out in blood.’ Then I up with my
+we’pon and shot him through the head.”
+
+“Sho!” said Joshua.
+
+“I was sorry to do it, for he was my friend,” said the Pike County
+man, “but he disputed my word, and the man that does that may as
+well make his will if he’s got any property to leave.”
+
+Here the speaker looked to see what effect was produced upon his
+listeners. Joe seemed indifferent. He saw through the fellow, and
+did not credit a word he said. Joshua had been more credulous at
+first, but he, too, began to understand the man from Pike County.
+The idea occurred to him to pay him back in his own coin.
+
+“Didn’t the relatives make any fuss about it?” he inquired. “Didn’t
+they arrest you for murder?”
+
+“They didn’t dare to,” said the Pike man proudly. “They knew me.
+They knew I could whip my weight in wildcats and wouldn’t let no
+man insult me.”
+
+“Did you leave the corpse lyin’ out under the trees?” asked Joshua.
+
+“I rode over to Jack’s brother and told him what I had done, and
+where he’d find the body. He went and buried it.”
+
+“What about the deer?”
+
+“What deer?”
+
+“The deer you killed and your friend claimed?”
+
+“Oh,” said the Pike man, with sudden recollection, “I told Jack’s
+brother he might have it.”
+
+“Now, that was kinder handsome, considerin’ you’d killed your
+friend on account of it.”
+
+“There ain’t nothin’ mean about me,” said the man from Pike County.
+
+“I see there ain’t,” said Mr. Bickford dryly. “It reminds me of
+a little incident in my own life. I’ll tell you about it, if you
+hain’t any objection.”
+
+“Go ahead. It’s your deal.”
+
+“You see, the summer I was eighteen, my cousin worked for dad
+hayin’ time. He was a little older’n me, and he had a powerful
+appetite, Bill had. If it wasn’t for that, he’d ’a’ been a nice
+feller enough, but at the table he always wanted more than his
+share of wittles. Now, that ain’t fair, no ways--think it is,
+stranger?”
+
+“No! Go ahead with your story.”
+
+“One day we sat down to dinner. Marm had made some apple-dumplin’
+that day, and ’twas good, you bet. Well, I see Bill a-eyin’ the
+dumplin’ as he shoveled in the meat and pertaters, and I knowed he
+meant to get more’n his share. Now, I’m fond of dumplin’ as well as
+Bill, and I didn’t like it. Well, we was both helped and went to
+eatin’. When I was half through I got up to pour out some water.
+When I cum back to the table Bill had put away his plate, which he
+had cleaned off, and was eatin’ my dumplin’.”
+
+“What did you say?” inquired the gentleman from Pike, interested.
+
+“I said: ‘Bill, you’re my cousin, but you’ve gone too fur.’ He
+laffed, and we went into the field together to mow. He was just
+startin’ on his swath when I cum behind him and cut his head clean
+off with my scythe.”
+
+Joe had difficulty in suppressing his laughter, but Mr. Bickford
+looked perfectly serious.
+
+“Why, that was butchery!” exclaimed the Pike man, startled. “Cut
+off his head with a scythe?”
+
+“I hated to, bein’ as he was my cousin,” said Joshua, “but I
+couldn’t have him cum any of them tricks on me. I don’t see as it’s
+any wuss than shootin’ a man.”
+
+“What did you do with his body?” asked Joe, commanding his voice.
+
+“Bein’ as ’twas warm weather, I thought I’d better bury him at
+once.”
+
+“Were you arrested?”
+
+“Yes, and tried for murder, but my lawyer proved that I was crazy
+when I did it, and so I got off.”
+
+“Do such things often happen at the North?” asked the Pike County
+man.
+
+“Not so often as out here and down South, I guess,” said Joshua.
+“It’s harder to get off. Sometimes a man gets hanged up North for
+handlin’ his gun too careless.”
+
+“Did you ever kill anybody else?” asked the Pike man, eying Joshua
+rather uneasily.
+
+“No,” said Mr. Bickford. “I shot one man in the leg and another in
+the arm, but that warn’t anything serious.”
+
+It was hard to disbelieve Joshua, he spoke with such apparent
+frankness and sincerity. The man from Pike County was evidently
+puzzled, and told no more stories of his own prowess. Conversation,
+died away, and presently all three were asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+THE EVENTS OF A NIGHT
+
+
+The Pike County man was the first to fall asleep. Joe and Mr.
+Bickford lay about a rod distant from him. When their new comrade’s
+regular breathing, assured Joe that he was asleep, he said:
+
+“Mr. Bickford, what do you think of this man who has joined us?”
+
+“I think he’s the biggest liar I ever set eyes on,” said Joshua
+bluntly.
+
+“Then you don’t believe his stories?”
+
+“No--do you?”
+
+“I believe them as much as that yarn of yours about your Cousin
+Bill,” returned Joe, laughing.
+
+“I wanted to give him as good as he sent. I didn’t want him to do
+all the lyin’.”
+
+“And you a deacon’s son!” exclaimed Joe, in comic expostulation.
+
+“I don’t know what the old man would have said if he’d heard me, or
+Cousin Bill, either.”
+
+“Then one part is true--you have a Cousin Bill?”
+
+“That isn’t the only part that’s true; he did help me and dad
+hayin’.”
+
+“But his head is still safe on his shoulders?”
+
+“I hope so.”
+
+“I don’t think we can find as much truth in the story of our friend
+over yonder.”
+
+“Nor I. If there was a prize offered for tall lyin’ I guess he’d
+stand a good chance to get it.”
+
+“Do you know, Joshua, fire-eater as he is, I suspect that he is a
+coward.”
+
+“You do?”
+
+“Yes, and I have a mind to put him to the test.”
+
+“How will you do it?”
+
+“One day an old hunter came into my restaurant, and kept coming for
+a week. He was once taken prisoner by the Indians, and remained in
+their hands for three months. He taught me the Indian war-whoop,
+and out of curiosity I practised it till I can do it pretty well.”
+
+“What’s your plan?”
+
+“To have you fire off your gun so as to wake him up. Then I will
+give a loud war-whoop and see how it affects the gentleman from
+Pike County.”
+
+“He may shoot us before he finds out the deception.”
+
+“It will be well first to remove his revolver to make all safe.
+I wish you could give the war-whoop, too. It would make a louder
+noise.”
+
+“How do you do it?”
+
+Joe explained.
+
+“I guess I can do it. You start it, and I’ll j’in in, just as I
+used to do in singin’ at meetin’. I never could steer through a
+tune straight by myself, but when the choir got to goin’, I helped
+’em all I could.”
+
+“I guess you can do it. Now let us make ready.”
+
+The Pike County man’s revolver was removed while he was
+unconsciously sleeping. Then Joshua and our hero ensconced
+themselves behind trees, and the Yankee fired his gun.
+
+The Pike man started up, still half asleep and wholly bewildered,
+when within a rod of him he heard the dreadful war-whoop. Then
+another more discordant voice took up the fearful cry. Joshua did
+very well considering that it was his first attempt.
+
+Then the man from Pike County sprang to his feet. If it had been
+daylight, his face would have been seen to wear a pale and scared
+expression. It did not appear to occur to him to make a stand
+against the savage foes who he felt convinced were near at hand.
+He stood not on the order of going, but went at once. He quickly
+unloosed his beast, sprang upon his back, and galloped away without
+apparently giving a thought to the companions with whom he had
+camped out.
+
+When he was out of hearing Joe and Bickford shouted with laughter.
+
+“You see I was right,” said Joe. “The man’s a coward.”
+
+“He seemed in a hurry to get away,” said Joshua dryly. “He’s the
+biggest humbug out.”
+
+“I thought so as soon as he began to brag so much.”
+
+“I believed his yarns at first,” admitted Joshua. “I thought he was
+rather a dangerous fellow to travel with.”
+
+“He looked like a desperado, certainly,” said Joe, “but appearances
+are deceitful. It’s all swagger and no real courage.”
+
+“Well, what shall we do now, Joe?”
+
+“Lie down again and go to sleep.”
+
+“The man’s gone off without his revolver.”
+
+“He’ll be back for it within a day or two. We shall be sure to fall
+in with him again. I shan’t lose my sleep worrying about him.”
+
+The two threw themselves once more on the ground, and were soon
+fast asleep.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Joe proved to be correct in his prediction concerning the
+reappearance of their terrified companion.
+
+The next morning, when they were sitting at breakfast--that is,
+sitting under a tree with their repast spread out on a paper
+between them--the man from Pike County rode up. He looked haggard,
+as well he might, not having ventured to sleep for fear of the
+Indians, and his horse seemed weary and dragged out.
+
+“Where have you been?” asked Mr. Bickford innocently.
+
+“Chasin’ the Indians,” said the Rip-tail Roarer, swinging himself
+from his saddle.
+
+“Sho! Be there any Indians about here?”
+
+“Didn’t you hear them last night?” inquired the man from Pike.
+
+“No.”
+
+“Nor you?” turning to Joe.
+
+“I heard nothing of any Indians,” replied Joe truthfully.
+
+“Then all I can say is, strangers, that you sleep uncommon sound.”
+
+“Nothing wakes me up,” said Bickford. “What about them Indians? Did
+you railly see any?”
+
+“I rather think I did,” said the man from Pike. “It couldn’t have
+been much after midnight when I was aroused by their war-whoop.
+Starting up, I saw twenty of the red devils riding through the
+cañon.”
+
+“Were you afraid?”
+
+“Afraid!” exclaimed the man from Pike contemptuously. “The Rip-tail
+Roarer knows not fear. I can whip my weight in wildcats----”
+
+“Yes, I know you can,” interrupted Joshua. “You told us so
+yesterday.”
+
+The man from Pike seemed rather annoyed at the interruption, but as
+Mr. Bickford appeared to credit his statement he had no excuse for
+quarreling.
+
+He proceeded.
+
+“Instantly I sprung to the back of my steed and gave them chase.”
+
+“Did they see you?”
+
+“They did.”
+
+“Why didn’t they turn upon you? You said there were twenty of them.”
+
+“Why?” repeated the Pike man boastfully. “They were afraid. They
+recognized me as the Rip-tail Roarer. They knew that I had sent
+more than fifty Indians to the happy hunting-grounds, and alone as
+I was they fled.”
+
+“Sho!”
+
+“Did you kill any of them?” asked Joe.
+
+“When I was some distance on my way I found I had left my revolver
+behind. Did you find it, stranger?”
+
+“There it is,” said Joshua, who had replaced it on the ground close
+to where the Pike man had slept.
+
+He took it with satisfaction and replaced it in his girdle.
+
+“Then you didn’t kill any?”
+
+“No, but I drove them away. They won’t trouble you any more.”
+
+“That’s a comfort,” said Joshua.
+
+“Now, strangers, if you’ve got any breakfast to spare, I think I
+could eat some.”
+
+“Set up, old man,” said Mr. Bickford, with his mouth full.
+
+The man from Pike did full justice to the meal. Then he asked his
+two companions, as a favor, not to start for two hours, during
+which he lay down and rested.
+
+The three kept together that day, but did not accomplish as much
+distance as usual, chiefly because of the condition of their
+companion’s horse.
+
+At night they camped out again. In the morning an unpleasant
+surprise awaited them. Their companion had disappeared, taking with
+him Joshua’s horse and leaving instead his own sorry nag. That was
+not all. He had carried off their bag of provisions, and morning
+found them destitute of food, with a hearty appetite and many miles
+away, as they judged, from any settlement.
+
+“The mean skunk!” said Joshua. “He’s cleaned us out. What shall we
+do?”
+
+“I don’t know,” said Joe seriously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+JOHN CHINAMAN
+
+
+The two friends felt themselves to be in a serious strait. The
+exchange of horses was annoying, but it would only lengthen their
+journey a little. The loss of their whole stock of provisions could
+not so readily be made up.
+
+“I feel holler,” said Joshua. “I never could do much before
+breakfast. I wish I’d eat more supper. I would have done it, only
+I was afraid, by the way that skunk pitched into ’em, we wouldn’t
+have enough to last.”
+
+“You only saved them for him, it seems,” said Joe. “He has
+certainly made a poor return for our kindness.”
+
+“If I could only wring his neck, I wouldn’t feel quite so hungry,”
+said Joshua.
+
+“Or cut his head off with a scythe,” suggested Joe, smiling faintly.
+
+“Danged if I wouldn’t do it,” said Mr. Bickford, hunger making him
+bloodthirsty.
+
+“We may overtake him, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“You may, Joe, but I can’t. He’s left me his horse, which is clean
+tuckered out, and never was any great shakes to begin with. I don’t
+believe I can get ten miles out of him from now till sunset.”
+
+“We must keep together, no matter how slow we go. It won’t do for
+us to be parted.”
+
+“We shall starve together likely enough,” said Joshua mournfully.
+
+“I’ve heard that the French eat horse-flesh. If it comes to the
+worst, we can kill your horse and try a horse-steak.”
+
+“It’s all he’s fit for, and he ain’t fit for that. We’ll move
+on for a couple of hours and see if somethin’ won’t turn up. I
+tell you, Joe, I’d give all the money I’ve got for some of marm’s
+johnny-cakes. It makes me feel hungrier whenever I think of ’em.”
+
+“I sympathize with you, Joshua,” said Joe. “We may as well be
+movin’ on, as you suggest. We may come to some cabin, or party of
+travelers.”
+
+So they mounted their beasts and started. Joe went ahead, for
+his animal was much better than the sorry nag which Mr. Bickford
+bestrode. The latter walked along with an air of dejection, as if
+life were a burden to him.
+
+“If I had this critter at home, Joe, I’ll tell you what I’d do with
+him,” said Mr. Bickford, after a pause.
+
+“Well, what would you do with him?”
+
+“I’d sell him to a sexton. He’d be a first-class animal to go to
+funerals. No danger of his runnin’ away with the hearse.”
+
+“You are not so hungry but you can joke, Joshua.”
+
+“It’s no joke,” returned Mr. Bickford. “If we don’t raise a supply
+of provisions soon, I shall have to attend my own funeral. My mind
+keeps running on them johnny-cakes.”
+
+They rode on rather soberly, for the exercise and the fresh morning
+air increased their appetites, which were keen when they started.
+
+Mr. Bickford no longer felt like joking, and Joe at every step
+looked anxiously around him, in the hope of espying relief.
+
+On a sudden, Mr. Bickford rose in his stirrups and exclaimed in a
+tone of excitement:
+
+“I see a cabin!”
+
+“Where?”
+
+“Yonder,” said the Yankee, pointing to a one-story shanty, perhaps
+a quarter of a mile away.
+
+“Is it inhabited, I wonder?”
+
+“I don’t know. Let us go and see.”
+
+The two spurred their horses, and at length reached the rude
+building which had inspired them with hope. The door was open, but
+no one was visible.
+
+Joshua was off his horse in a twinkling and peered in.
+
+“Hooray!” he shouted in rejoicing accents. “Breakfast’s ready.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean that I’ve found something to eat.”
+
+On a rude table was an earthen platter full of boiled rice and a
+stale loaf beside it.
+
+“Pitch in, Joe,” said Joshua. “I’m as hungry as a wolf.”
+
+“This food belongs to somebody. I suppose we have no right to it.”
+
+“Right be hanged. A starving man has a right to eat whatever he can
+find.”
+
+“Suppose it belongs to a fire-eater, or a man from Pike County?”
+
+“We’ll eat first and fight afterward.”
+
+Joe did not feel like arguing the matter. There was an advocate
+within him which forcibly emphasized Joshua’s arguments, and he
+joined in the banquet.
+
+“This bread is dry as a chip,” said Mr. Bickford. “But no matter. I
+never thought dry bread would taste so good. I always thought rice
+was mean vittles, but it goes to the right place just now.”
+
+“I wonder if any one will have to go hungry on our account?” said
+Joe.
+
+“I hope not, but I can’t help it,” returned Mr. Bickford.
+“Necessity’s the fust law of nature, Joe. I feel twice as strong as
+I did twenty minutes ago.”
+
+“There’s nothing like a full stomach, Joshua. I wonder to whom we
+are indebted for this repast?”
+
+Joe was not long in having his query answered. An exclamation, as
+of one startled, called the attention of the two friends to the
+doorway, where, with a terrified face, stood a Chinaman, his broad
+face indicating alarm.
+
+“It’s a heathen Chinee, by gosh!” exclaimed Joshua.
+
+Even at that time Chinese immigrants had begun to arrive in San
+Francisco, and the sight was not wholly new either to Joshua or Joe.
+
+“Good morning, John,” said our young hero pleasantly.
+
+“Good morning, heathen,” said Mr. Bickford. “We thought we’d come
+round and make you a mornin’ call. Is your family well?”
+
+The Chinaman was reassured by the friendly tone of his visitors,
+and ventured to step in. He at once saw that the food which he had
+prepared for himself had disappeared.
+
+“Melican man eat John’s dinner,” he remarked in a tone of
+disappointment.
+
+“So we have, John,” said Mr. Bickford. “The fact is, we were
+hungry--hadn’t had any breakfast.”
+
+“Suppose Melican man eat--he pay,” said the Chinaman.
+
+“That’s all right,” said Joe; “we are willing to pay. How much do
+you want?”
+
+The Chinaman named his price, which was not unreasonable, and it
+was cheerfully paid.
+
+“Have you got some more bread and rice, John?” asked Mr. Bickford.
+“We’d like to buy some and take it along.”
+
+They succeeded in purchasing a small supply--enough with economy to
+last a day or two. This was felt as a decided relief. In two days
+they might fall in with another party of miners or come across a
+settlement.
+
+They ascertained on inquiry that the Chinaman and another of his
+nationality had come out like themselves to search for gold. They
+had a claim at a short distance from which they had obtained a
+small supply of gold. The cabin they had found in its present
+condition. It had been erected and deserted the previous year by a
+party of white miners, who were not so easily satisfied as the two
+Chinamen.
+
+“Well,” said Joshua, after they had started on their way, “that’s
+the first time I ever dined at a Chinee hotel.”
+
+“We were lucky in coming across it,” said Joe.
+
+“The poor fellow looked frightened when he saw us gobblin’ up his
+provisions,” said Mr. Bickford, laughing at the recollection.
+
+“But we left him pretty well satisfied. We didn’t treat him as the
+gentleman from Pike treated us.”
+
+“No--I wouldn’t be so mean as that darned skunk. It makes me mad
+whenever I look at this consumptive hoss he’s left behind.”
+
+“You didn’t make much out of that horse trade, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“I didn’t, but I’ll get even with him some time if we ever meet
+again.”
+
+“Do you know where he was bound?”
+
+“No--he didn’t say.”
+
+“I dare say it’ll all come right in the end. At any rate, we shan’t
+starve for the next forty-eight hours.”
+
+So in better spirits the two companions kept on their way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+ON THE YUBA RIVER
+
+
+On the following day Joe and his comrade fell in with a party of
+men who, like themselves, were on their way to the Yuba River. They
+were permitted to join them, and made an arrangement for a share of
+the provisions. This removed all anxiety and insured their reaching
+their destination without further adventure.
+
+The banks of the Yuba presented a busy and picturesque appearance.
+On the banks was a line of men roughly clad, earnestly engaged in
+scooping out gravel and pouring it into a rough cradle, called a
+rocker. This was rocked from side to side until the particles of
+gold, if there were any, settled at the bottom and were picked out
+and gathered into bags. At the present time there are improved
+methods of separating gold from the earth, but the rocker is still
+employed by Chinese miners.
+
+In the background were tents and rude cabins, and there was the
+unfailing accessory of a large mining-camp, the gambling tent,
+where the banker, like a wily spider, lay in wait to appropriate
+the hard-earned dust of the successful miner.
+
+Joe and his friend took their station a few rods from the river and
+gazed at the scene before them.
+
+“Well, Mr. Bickford,” said Joe, “the time has come when we are to
+try our luck.”
+
+“Yes,” said Joshua. “Looks curious, doesn’t it? If I didn’t know,
+I’d think them chaps fools, stoopin’ over there and siftin’ mud. It
+’minds me of when I was a boy and used to make dirt pies.”
+
+“Suppose we take a day and look round a little. Then we can find
+out about how things are done, and work to better advantage.”
+
+“Just as you say, Joe, I must go to work soon, for I hain’t nary
+red.”
+
+“I’ll stand by you, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“You’re a fust-rate feller, Joe. You seem to know just what to do.”
+
+“It isn’t so long since I was a greenhorn and allowed myself to be
+taken in by Hogan.”
+
+“You’ve cut your eye-teeth since then.”
+
+“I have had some experience of the world, but I may get taken in
+again.”
+
+Joe and his friend found the miners social and very ready to give
+them information.
+
+“How much do I make a day?” said one in answer to a question from
+Joshua. “Well, it varies. Sometimes I make ten dollars, and from
+that all the way up to twenty-five. Once I found a piece worth
+fifty dollars. I was in luck then.”
+
+“I should say you were,” said Mr. Bickford. “The idea of findin’
+fifty dollars in the river. It looks kind of strange, don’t it,
+Joe?”
+
+“Are any larger pieces ever found here?” asked Joe.
+
+“Sometimes.”
+
+“I have seen larger nuggets on exhibition in San Francisco, worth
+several hundred dollars. Are any such to be found here?”
+
+“Generally they come from the dry diggings. We don’t often find
+such specimens in the river washings. But these are more reliable.”
+
+“Can a man save money here?”
+
+“If he’ll be careful of what he gets. But much of our dust goes
+there.”
+
+He pointed, as he spoke, to a small cabin, used as a store and
+gambling den at one and the same time. There in the evening the
+miners collected, and by faro, poker, or monte managed to lose all
+that they had washed out during the day.
+
+“That’s the curse of our mining settlement,” said their informant.
+“But for the temptations which the gaming-house offers, many
+whom you see working here would now be on their way home with a
+comfortable provision for their families. I never go there, but
+then I am in the minority.”
+
+“What did you used to do when you was to hum?” inquired Joshua,
+who was by nature curious and had no scruples about gratifying his
+curiosity.
+
+“I used to keep school winters. In the spring and summer I assisted
+my father on his farm down in Maine.”
+
+“You don’t say you’re from Maine? Why, I’m from Maine myself,”
+remarked Joshua.
+
+“Indeed! Whereabouts in Maine did you live?”
+
+“Pumpkin Hollow.”
+
+“I kept school in Pumpkin Hollow one winter.”
+
+“You don’t say so? What is your name?” inquired Joshua earnestly.
+
+“John Kellogg.”
+
+“I thought so!” exclaimed Mr. Bickford, excited.
+
+“Why, I used to go to school to you, Mr. Kellogg.”
+
+“It is nine years ago, and you must have changed so much that I
+cannot call you to mind.”
+
+“Don’t you remember a tall, slab-sided youngster of thirteen, that
+used to stick pins into your chair for you to set on?”
+
+Kellogg smiled.
+
+“Surely you are not Joshua Bickford?” he said.
+
+“Yes, I am. I am that same identical chap.”
+
+“I am glad to see you, Mr. Bickford,” said his old school-teacher,
+grasping Joshua’s hand cordially.
+
+“It seems kinder queer for you to call me Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“I wasn’t so ceremonious in the old times,” said Kellogg.
+
+“No, I guess not. You’d say, ‘Come here, Joshua,’ and you’d jerk
+me out of my seat by the collar. ‘Did you stick that pin in my
+chair?’ That’s the way you used to talk. And then you’d give me an
+all-fired lickin’.”
+
+Overcome by the mirthful recollections, Joshua burst into an
+explosive fit of laughter, in which presently he was joined by Joe
+and his old teacher.
+
+“I hope you’ve forgiven me for those whippings, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“They were jest what I needed, Mr. Kellogg. I was a lazy young
+rascal, as full of mischief as a nut is of meat. You tanned my hide
+well.”
+
+“You don’t seem to be any the worse for it now.”
+
+“I guess not. I’m pretty tough. I say, Mr. Kellogg,” continued
+Joshua, with a grin, “you’d find it a harder job to give me a
+lickin’ now than you did then.”
+
+“I wouldn’t undertake it now. I am afraid you could handle me.”
+
+“It seems cur’us, don’t it, Joe?” said Joshua. “When Mr. Kellogg
+used to haul me round the schoolroom, it didn’t seem as if I could
+ever be a match for him.”
+
+“We change with the passing years,” said Kellogg, in a moralizing
+tone, which recalled his former vocation. “Now you are a man, and
+we meet here on the other side of the continent, on the banks of
+the Yuba River. I hope we are destined to be successful.”
+
+“I hope so, too,” said Joshua, “for I’m reg’larly cleaned out.”
+
+“If I can help you any in the way of information, I shall be glad
+to do so.”
+
+Joe and Bickford took him at his word and made many inquiries,
+eliciting important information.
+
+The next day they took their places farther down the river and
+commenced work.
+
+Their inexperience at first put them at a disadvantage. They were
+awkward and unskilful, as might have been expected. Still, at the
+end of the first day each had made about five dollars.
+
+“That’s something,” said Joe.
+
+“If I could have made five dollars in one day in Pumpkin Hollow,”
+said Mr. Bickford, “I would have felt like a rich man. Here it
+costs a feller so much to live that he don’t think much of it.”
+
+“We shall improve as we go along. Wait till to-morrow night.”
+
+The second day brought each about twelve dollars, and Joshua felt
+elated.
+
+“I’m gettin’ the hang of it,” said he. “As soon as I’ve paid up
+what I owe you, I’ll begin to lay by somethin’.”
+
+“I don’t want you to pay me till you are worth five hundred
+dollars, Mr. Bickford. The sum is small, and I don’t need it.”
+
+“Thank you, Joe. You’re a good friend. I’ll stick by you if you
+ever want help.”
+
+In the evening the camp presented a lively appearance.
+
+When it was chilly, logs would be brought from the woods, and a
+bright fire would be lighted, around which the miners would sit
+and talk of home and their personal adventures and experiences.
+One evening Mr. Bickford and Joe were returning from a walk, when,
+as they approached the camp-fire, they heard a voice that sounded
+familiar, and caught these words:
+
+“I’m from Pike County, Missouri, gentlemen. They call me the
+Rip-tail Roarer. I can whip my weight in wildcats.”
+
+“By gosh!” exclaimed Joshua, “if it ain’t that skunk from Pike. I
+mean to tackle him.”
+
+
+
+
+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 wildcats 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 susan-cide.”
+
+“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.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+THE NEW DIGGINGS
+
+
+When lunch-was over, Joe said:
+
+“Good day, Mr. Hogan. Look out for the grizzlies, and may you have
+better luck in future.”
+
+“Yes, Hogan, good-by,” said Joshua. “We make over to you all our
+interest in the bear. He meant to eat you. You can revenge yourself
+by eatin’ him.”
+
+“Are you going to leave me, gentlemen?” asked Hogan in alarm.
+
+“You don’t expect us to stay and take care of you, do you?”
+
+“Let me go with you,” pleaded Hogan. “I am afraid to be left alone
+in this country. I may meet another grizzly, and lose my life.”
+
+“That would be a great loss to the world,” said Mr. Bickford, with
+unconcealed sarcasm.
+
+“It would be a great loss to me,” said Hogan.
+
+“Maybe that’s the best way to put it,” observed Bickford. “It would
+have been money in my friend Joe’s pocket if you had never been
+born.”
+
+“May I go with you?” pleaded Hogan, this time addressing himself to
+Joe.
+
+“Mr. Hogan,” said Joe, “you know very well why your company is not
+acceptable to us.”
+
+“You shall have no occasion to complain,” said Hogan earnestly.
+
+“Do you want us to adopt you, Hogan?” asked Joshua.
+
+“Let me stay with you till we reach the nearest diggings. Then I
+won’t trouble you any more.”
+
+Joe turned to Bickford.
+
+“If you don’t object,” he said, “I think I’ll let him come.”
+
+“Let the critter come,” said Bickford. “He’d be sure to choke any
+grizzly that tackled him. For the sake of the bear, let him come.”
+
+Mr. Hogan was too glad to join the party, on any conditions, to
+resent the tone which Mr. Bickford employed in addressing him. He
+obtained his suit, and the party of three kept on their way.
+
+As they advanced the country became rougher and more hilly. Here
+and there they saw evidences of “prospecting” by former visitors.
+They came upon deserted claims and the sites of former camps. But
+in these places the indications of gold had not been sufficiently
+favorable to warrant continued work, and the miners had gone
+elsewhere.
+
+At last, however, they came to a dozen men who were busily at
+work in a gulch. Two rude huts near-by evidently served as their
+temporary homes.
+
+“Well, boys, how do you find it?” inquired Bickford, riding up.
+
+“Pretty fair,” said one of the party.
+
+“Have you got room for three more?”
+
+“Yes--come along. You can select claims alongside and go to work if
+you want to.”
+
+“What do you say, Joe?”
+
+“I am in favor of it.”
+
+“We are going to put up here, Hogan,” said Mr. Bickford. “You can
+do as you’ve a mind to. Much as we value your interestin’ society,
+we hope you won’t put yourself out to stay on our account.”
+
+“I’ll stay,” said Hogan.
+
+Joe and Joshua surveyed the ground and staked out their claims,
+writing out the usual notice and posting it on a neighboring tree.
+They had not all the requisite tools, but these they were able to
+purchase at one of the cabins.
+
+“What shall I do?” asked Hogan. “I’m dead broke. I can’t work
+without tools, and I can’t buy any.”
+
+“Do you want to work for me?” asked Joshua.
+
+“What’ll you give?”
+
+“That’ll depend on how you work. If you work stiddy, I’ll give you
+a quarter of what we both make. I’ll supply you with tools, but
+they’ll belong to me.”
+
+“Suppose we don’t make anything,” suggested Hogan.
+
+“You shall have a quarter of that. You see, I want to make it for
+your interest to succeed.”
+
+“Then I shall starve.”
+
+The bargain was modified so that Hogan was assured of enough to
+eat, and was promised, besides, a small sum of money daily, but was
+not to participate in the gains.
+
+“If we find a nugget, it won’t do you any good. Do you understand,
+Hogan?”
+
+“Yes, I understand.”
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, having very little faith in any
+prospective nuggets.
+
+“Then we understand each other. That’s all I want.”
+
+On the second day Joe and Mr. Bickford consolidated their claims
+and became partners, agreeing to divide whatever they found. Hogan
+was to work for them jointly.
+
+They did not find their hired man altogether satisfactory. He was
+lazy and shiftless by nature, and work was irksome to him.
+
+“If you don’t work stiddy, Hogan,” said Joshua, “you can’t expect
+to eat stiddy, and your appetite is pretty reg’lar, I notice.”
+
+Under this stimulus Hogan managed to work better than he had done
+since he came out to California, or indeed for years preceding his
+departure. Bickford and Joe had both been accustomed to farm work
+and easily lapsed into their old habits.
+
+They found they had made a change for the better in leaving the
+banks of the Yuba. The claims they were now working paid them
+better.
+
+“Twenty-five dollars to-day,” said Joshua, a week after their
+arrival. “That pays better than hoeing pertaters, Joe.”
+
+“You are right, Mr. Bickford. You are ten dollars ahead of me. I am
+afraid you will lose on our partnership.”
+
+“I’ll risk it, Joe.”
+
+Hogan was the only member of the party who was not satisfied.
+
+“Can’t you take me into partnership?” he asked.
+
+“We can, but I don’t think we will, Hogan,” said Mr. Bickford.
+
+“It wouldn’t pay. If you don’t like workin’ for us, you can take a
+claim of your own.”
+
+“I have no tools.”
+
+“Why don’t you save your money and buy some, instead of gamblin’ it
+away as you are doin’?”
+
+“A man must have amusement,” grumbled Hogan. “Besides, I may have
+luck and win.”
+
+“Better keep clear of gamblin’, Hogan.”
+
+“Mr. Hogan, if you want to start a claim of your own, I’ll give you
+what tools you need,” said Joe.
+
+Upon reflection Hogan decided to accept this offer.
+
+“But of course you will have to find your own vittles now,” said
+Joshua.
+
+“I’ll do it,” said Hogan.
+
+The same day he ceased to work for the firm of Bickford & Mason,
+for Joe insisted on giving Mr. Bickford the precedence as the
+senior party, and started on his own account.
+
+The result was that he worked considerably less than before. Being
+his own master, he decided not to overwork himself, and in fact
+worked only enough to make his board. He was continually grumbling
+over his bad luck, although Joshua told him plainly that it wasn’t
+luck, but industry, he lacked.
+
+“If you’d work like we do,” said Bickford, “you wouldn’t need to
+complain. Your claim is just as good as ours, as far as we can
+tell.”
+
+“Then let us go in as partners,” said Hogan.
+
+“Not much. You ain’t the kind of partner I want.”
+
+“I was always unfortunate,” said Hogan.
+
+“You were always lazy, I reckon. You were born tired, weren’t you?”
+
+“My health ain’t good,” said Hogan. “I can’t work like you two.”
+
+“You’ve got a healthy appetite,” said Mr. Bickford. “There ain’t no
+trouble there that I can see.”
+
+Mr. Hogan had an easier time than before, but he hadn’t money to
+gamble with unless he deprived himself of his customary supply of
+food, and this he was reluctant to do.
+
+“Lend me half-an-ounce of gold-dust, won’t you?” he asked of Joe
+one evening.
+
+“What do you want it for--to gamble with?”
+
+“Yes,” said Hogan. “I dreamed last night that I broke the bank. All
+I want is money enough to start me.”
+
+“I don’t approve of gambling, and can’t help you.”
+
+Hogan next tried Mr. Bickford, but with like result.
+
+“I ain’t quite such a fool, Hogan,” said the plain-spoken Joshua.
+
+About this time a stroke of good luck fell to Joe. About three
+o’clock one afternoon he unearthed a nugget which, at a rough
+estimate, might be worth five hundred dollars.
+
+Instantly all was excitement in the mining-camp, not alone for
+what he had obtained, but for the promise of richer deposits.
+Experienced miners decided that he had struck upon what is
+popularly called a “pocket,” and some of these are immensely
+remunerative.
+
+“Shake hands, Joe,” said Bickford. “You’re in luck.”
+
+“So are you, Mr. Bickford. We are partners, you know.”
+
+In less than an hour the two partners received an offer of eight
+thousand dollars for their united claim, and the offer was accepted.
+
+Joe was the hero of the camp. All were rejoiced at his good fortune
+except one. That one was Hogan, who from a little distance, jealous
+and gloomy, surveyed the excited crowd.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+HOGAN’S DISCONTENT
+
+
+“Why don’t luck come to me?” muttered Hogan to himself. “That green
+country boy has made a fortune, while I, an experienced man of the
+world, have to live from hand to mouth. It’s an outrage!”
+
+The parties to whom Joe and his partner sold their claim were
+responsible men who had been fortunate in mining and had a
+bank-account in San Francisco.
+
+“We’ll give you an order on our banker,” they proposed.
+
+“That will suit me better than money down,” said Joe. “I shall
+start for San Francisco to-morrow, having other business there that
+I need to look after.”
+
+“I’ll go too, Joe,” said Joshua. “With my share of the
+purchase-money and the nugget, I’m worth, nigh on to five thousand
+dollars. What will dad say?”
+
+“And what will Susan Smith say?” queried Joe.
+
+Joshua grinned.
+
+“I guess she’ll say she’s ready to change her name to Bickford,”
+said he.
+
+“You must send me some of the cake, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“Just wait, Joe. The thing ain’t got to that yet. I tell you, Joe,
+I shall be somebody when I get home to Pumpkin Hollow with that
+pile of money. The boys’ll begin to look up to me then. I can’t
+hardly believe it’s all true. Maybe I’m dreamin’ it. Jest pinch my
+arm, will you?”
+
+Joe complied with his request.
+
+“That’ll do, Joe. You’ve got some strength in your fingers. I guess
+it’s true, after all.”
+
+Joe observed with some surprise that Hogan did not come near them.
+The rest, without exception, had congratulated them on their
+extraordinary good luck.
+
+“Seems to me Hogan looks rather down in the mouth,” said Joe to
+Bickford.
+
+“He’s mad ’cause he didn’t find the nugget. That’s what’s the
+matter with him. I say, Hogan, you look as if your dinner didn’t
+agree with you.”
+
+“My luck don’t agree with me.”
+
+“You don’t seem to look at things right. Wasn’t you lucky the other
+day to get away from the bear?”
+
+“I was unlucky enough to fall in with him.”
+
+“Wasn’t you lucky in meetin’ my friend Joe in New York, and raisin’
+money enough out of him to pay your passage out to Californy?”
+
+“I should be better off in New York. I am dead broke.”
+
+“You’d be dead broke in New York. Such fellers as you always is
+dead broke.”
+
+“Do you mean to insult me, Mr. Bickford?” demanded Hogan irritably.
+
+“Oh, don’t rare up, Hogan. It won’t do no good. You’d ought to have
+more respect for me, considerin’ I was your boss once.”
+
+“I’d give something for that boy’s luck.”
+
+“Joe’s luck? Well, things have gone pretty well with him; but that
+don’t explain all his success--he’s willin’ to work.”
+
+“So am I.”
+
+“Then go to work on your claim. There’s no knowin’ but there’s a
+bigger nugget inside of it. If you stand round with your hands in
+your pockets, you’ll never find it.”
+
+“It’s the poorest claim in the gulch,” said Hogan discontentedly.
+
+“It pays the poorest because you don’t work half the time.”
+
+Hogan apparently didn’t like Mr. Bickford’s plainness of speech. He
+walked away moodily, with his hands in his pockets. He could not
+help contrasting his penniless position with the enviable position
+of the two friends, and the devil, who is always in wait for such
+moments, thrust an evil suggestion into his mind.
+
+It was this:
+
+He asked himself why could he not steal the nugget which Joe had
+found?
+
+“He can spare it, for he has sold the claim for a fortune,” Hogan
+reasoned. “It isn’t fair that he should have everything and I
+should have nothing. He ought to have made me his partner, anyway.
+He would if he hadn’t been so selfish. I have just as much right to
+a share in it as this infernal Yankee. I’d like to choke him.”
+
+This argument was a very weak one, but a man easily persuades
+himself of what he wants to do.
+
+“I’ll try for it,” Hogan decided, “this very night.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+THE NUGGET IS STOLEN
+
+
+At this time Joe and Joshua were occupying a tent which they had
+purchased on favorable terms of a fellow miner.
+
+They retired in good season, for they wished to start early on
+their journey on the following morning.
+
+“I don’t know as I can go to sleep,” said Joshua. “I can’t help
+thinkin’ of how rich I am, and what dad and all the folks will say.”
+
+“Do you mean to go home at once, Mr. Bickford?”
+
+“Jest as soon as I can get ready. I’ll tell you what I am goin’ to
+do, Joe. I’m goin’ to buy a tip-top suit when I get to Boston, and
+a gold watch and chain, and a breast-pin about as big as a saucer.
+When I sail into Pumpkin Holler in that rig folks’ll look at me,
+you bet. There’s old Squire Pennyroyal, he’ll be disappointed for
+one.”
+
+“Why will he be disappointed?”
+
+“Because he told dad I was a fool to come out here. He said I’d be
+back in rags before a year was out. Now, the old man thinks a good
+deal of his opinion, and he won’t like it to find how badly he’s
+mistaken.”
+
+“Then he would prefer to see you come home in rags?”
+
+“You bet he would.”
+
+“How about Susan? Ain’t you afraid she has married the store clerk?”
+
+Joshua looked grave for a moment.
+
+“I won’t say but she has,” said he; “but if she has gone and
+forgotten about me jest because my back is turned, she ain’t the
+gal I take her for, and I won’t fret my gizzard about her.”
+
+“She will feel worse than you when she finds you have come back
+with money.”
+
+“That’s so.”
+
+“And you will easily find some one else,” suggested Joe.
+
+“There’s Sophrony Thompson thinks a sight of me,” said Mr.
+Bickford. “She’s awful jealous of Susan. If Susan goes back on me,
+I’ll call round and see Sophrony.”
+
+Joe laughed.
+
+“I won’t feel anxious about you, Joshua,” he said, “since I find
+you have two girls to choose between.”
+
+“Not much danger of breakin’ my heart. It’s pretty tough.”
+
+There was a brief silence.
+
+Then Joshua said:
+
+“What are your plans, Joe? Shall you remain in San Francisco?”
+
+“I’ve been thinking, Mr. Bickford, that I would like to go home
+on a visit. If I find that I have left my business in good hands
+in the city, I shall feel strongly tempted to go home on the same
+steamer with you.”
+
+“That would be hunky,” said Bickford, really delighted. “We’d have
+a jolly time.”
+
+“I think we would. But, Mr. Bickford, I have no girls to welcome me
+home, as you have.”
+
+“You ain’t old enough yet, Joe. You’re a good-lookin’ feller, and
+when the time comes I guess you can find somebody.”
+
+“I don’t begin to trouble myself about such things yet,” said Joe,
+laughing. “I am only sixteen.”
+
+“You’ve been through considerable, Joe, for a boy of sixteen. I
+wish you’d come up to Pumpkin Holler and make me a visit when
+you’re to home.”
+
+“Perhaps I can arrange to be present at your wedding, Mr.
+Bickford--that is, if Susan doesn’t make you wait too long.”
+
+While this conversation was going on the dark figure of a man was
+prowling near the tent.
+
+“Why don’t the fools stop talking and go to sleep,” muttered Hogan.
+“I don’t want to wait here all night.” His wish was gratified.
+
+The two friends ceased talking and lay quite still. Soon Joe’s
+deep, regular breathing and Bickford’s snoring convinced the
+listener that the time had come to carry out his plans.
+
+With stealthy step he approached the tent, and stooping over gently
+removed the nugget from under Joshua’s head. There was a bag of
+gold-dust which escaped his notice. The nugget was all he thought
+of.
+
+With beating heart and hasty step the thief melted into the
+darkness, and the two friends slept on unconscious of their loss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII
+
+HOGAN’S FATE
+
+
+The sun was up an hour before Joe and Bickford awoke. When Joe
+opened his eyes he saw that it was later than the hour he intended
+to rise. He shook his companion.
+
+“Is it mornin’?” asked Bickford drowsily.
+
+“I should say it was. Everybody is up and eating breakfast. We must
+prepare to set out on our journey.”
+
+“Then it is time--we are rich,” said Joshua, with sudden
+remembrance. “Do you know, Joe, I hain’t got used to the thought
+yet. I had actually forgotten it.”
+
+“The sight of the nugget will bring it to mind.”
+
+“That’s so.”
+
+Bickford felt for the nugget, without a suspicion that the search
+would be in vain.
+
+Of course he did not find it.
+
+“Joe, you are trying to play a trick on me,” he said. “You’ve taken
+the nugget.”
+
+“What!” exclaimed Joe, starting. “Is it missing?”
+
+“Yes, and you know all about it. Where have you put it, Joe?”
+
+“On my honor, Joshua, I haven’t touched it,” said Joe seriously.
+“Where did you place it?”
+
+“Under my head--the last thing before I lay down.”
+
+“Are you positive of it?”
+
+“Certain, sure.”
+
+“Then,” said Joe, a little pale, “it must have been taken during
+the night.”
+
+“Who would take it?”
+
+“Let us find Hogan,” said Joe, with instinctive suspicion. “Who has
+seen Hogan?”
+
+Hogan’s claim was in sight, but he was not at work. Neither was he
+taking breakfast.
+
+“I’ll bet the skunk has grabbed the nugget and cleared out,”
+exclaimed Bickford, in a tone of conviction.
+
+“Did you hear or see anything of him during the night?”
+
+“No--I slept too sound.”
+
+“Is anything else taken?” asked Joe. “The bag of dust----”
+
+“Is safe. It’s only the nugget that’s gone.”
+
+The loss was quickly noised about the camp. Such an incident was
+of common interest. Miners lived so much in common--their property
+was necessarily left so unguarded--that theft was something more
+than misdemeanor or light offense. Stern was the justice which
+overtook the thief in those days. It was necessary, perhaps, for it
+was a primitive state of society, and the code which in established
+communities was a safeguard did not extend its protection here.
+
+Suspicion fell upon Hogan at once. No one of the miners remembered
+to have seen him since rising.
+
+“Did any one see him last night?” asked Joe.
+
+Kellogg answered.
+
+“I saw him near your tent,” he said. “I did not think anything
+of it. Perhaps if I had been less sleepy I should have been more
+likely to suspect that his design was not a good one.”
+
+“About what hour was this?”
+
+“It must have been between ten and eleven o’clock.”
+
+“We did not go to sleep at once. Mr. Bickford and I were talking
+over our plans.”
+
+“I wish I’d been awake when the skunk come round,” said Bickford.
+“I’d have grabbed him so he’d thought an old grizzly’d got hold of
+him.”
+
+“Did you notice anything in his manner that led you to think he
+intended robbery?” asked Kellogg.
+
+“He was complainin’ of his luck. He thought Joe and I got more than
+our share, and I’m willin’ to allow we have; but if we’d been as
+lazy and shif’less as Hogan we wouldn’t have got down to the nugget
+at all.”
+
+An informal council was held, and it was decided to pursue Hogan.
+As it was uncertain in which direction he had fled, it was resolved
+to send out four parties of two men each to hunt him. Joe and
+Kellogg went together, Joshua and another miner departed in a
+different direction, and two other pairs started out.
+
+“I guess we’ll fix him,” said Mr. Bickford. “If he can dodge us
+all, he’s smarter than I think he is.”
+
+Meanwhile Hogan, with the precious nugget in his possession,
+hurried forward with feverish haste. The night was dark and the
+country was broken. From time to time he stumbled over some
+obstacle, the root of a tree or something similar, and this made
+his journey more arduous.
+
+“I wish it was light,” he muttered.
+
+Then he revoked his wish. In the darkness and obscurity lay his
+hopes of escape.
+
+“I’d give half this nugget if I was safe in San Francisco,” he said
+to himself.
+
+He stumbled on, occasionally forced by his fatigue to sit down and
+rest.
+
+“I hope I’m going in the right direction, but I don’t know,” he
+said to himself.
+
+He had been traveling with occasional rests for four hours when
+fatigue overcame him. He lay down to take a slight nap, but when he
+awoke the sun was up.
+
+“Good Heaven!” he exclaimed in alarm. “I must have slept for some
+hours. I will eat something to give me strength, and then I must
+hurry on.”
+
+He had taken the precaution to take some provisions with him, and
+he began to eat them as he hurried along.
+
+“They have just discovered their loss,” thought Hogan. “Will they
+follow me, I wonder? I must be a good twelve miles away, and this
+is a fair start. They will turn back before they have come as far
+as this. Besides, they won’t know in what direction I have come.”
+
+Hogan was mistaken in supposing himself to be twelve miles away.
+In reality, he was not eight. During the night he had traveled at
+disadvantage, and taken a round-about way without being aware of
+it. He was mistaken also in supposing that the pursuit would be
+easily abandoned. Mining communities could not afford to condone
+theft, nor were they disposed to facilitate the escape of the
+thief. More than once the murderer had escaped, while the thief was
+pursued relentlessly. All this made Hogan’s position a perilous
+one. If he had been long enough in the country to understand the
+feeling of the people, he would not have ventured to steal the
+nugget.
+
+About eleven o’clock Hogan sat down to rest. He reclined on the
+greensward near the edge of a precipitous descent. He did not dream
+that danger was so close till he heard his name called and two men
+came running toward him. Hogan, starting to his feet in dismay,
+recognized Crane and Peabody, two of his late comrades.
+
+“What do you want?” he faltered, as they came within hearing.
+
+“The nugget,” said Crane sternly.
+
+Hogan would have denied its possession if he could, but there it
+was at his side.
+
+“There it is,” he said.
+
+“What induced you to steal it?” demanded Crane.
+
+“I was dead broke. Luck was against me. I couldn’t help it.”
+
+“It was a bad day’s work for you,” said Peabody. “Didn’t you know
+the penalty attached to theft in the mining-camps?”
+
+“No,” faltered Hogan, alarmed at the stern looks of his captors.
+“What is it?”
+
+“Death by hanging,” was the terrible reply.
+
+Hogan’s face blanched, and he sank on his knees before them.
+
+“Don’t let me be hung!” he entreated. “You’ve got the nugget back.
+I’ve done no harm. No one has lost anything by me.”
+
+“Eight of us have lost our time in pursuing you. You gave up the
+nugget because you were forced to. You intended to carry it away.”
+
+“Mercy! mercy! I’m a very unlucky man. I’ll go away and never
+trouble you again.”
+
+“We don’t mean that you shall,” said Crane sternly. “Peabody, tie
+his hands; we must take him back with us.”
+
+“I won’t go,” said Hogan, lying down. “I am not going back to be
+hung.”
+
+It would obviously be impossible to carry a struggling man back
+fifteen miles, or more.
+
+“We must hang you on the spot then,” said Crane, producing a cord.
+“Say your prayers; your fate is sealed.”
+
+“But this is murder!” faltered Hogan, with pallid lips.
+
+“We take the responsibility.”
+
+He advanced toward Hogan, who now felt the full horrors of his
+situation. He sprang to his feet, rushed in frantic fear to the
+edge of the precipice, threw up his arms, and plunged headlong. It
+was done so quickly that neither of his captors was able to prevent
+him.
+
+They hurried to the precipice and looked over. A hundred feet
+below, on a rough rock, they saw a shapeless and motionless figure,
+crushed out of human semblance.
+
+“Perhaps it is as well,” said Crane gravely. “He has saved us an
+unwelcome task.”
+
+The nugget was restored to its owners, to whom Hogan’s tragical
+fate was told.
+
+“Poor fellow!” said Joe soberly. “I would rather have lost the
+nugget.”
+
+“So would I,” said Bickford. “He was a poor, shif’less critter; but
+I’m sorry for him.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+HOW JOE’S BUSINESS PROSPERED
+
+
+Joe and his friend Bickford arrived in San Francisco eight days
+later without having met with any other misadventure or drawback.
+He had been absent less than three months, yet he found changes. A
+considerable number of buildings had gone up in different parts of
+the town during his absence.
+
+“It is a wonderful place,” said Joe to his companion.
+
+“It is going to be a great city some day.”
+
+“It’s ahead of Pumpkin Holler already,” said Mr. Bickford, “though
+the Holler has been goin’ for over a hundred years.”
+
+Joe smiled at the comparison. He thought he could foresee the rapid
+progress of the new city, but he was far from comprehending the
+magnificent future that lay before it. A short time since, the
+writer of this story ascended to the roof of the Palace Hotel,
+and from this lofty elevation, a hundred and forty feet above the
+sidewalk, scanned with delighted eyes a handsome and substantial
+city, apparently the growth of a century, and including within its
+broad limits a population of three hundred thousand souls. It will
+not be many years before it reaches half-a-million, and may fairly
+be ranked among the great cities of the world.
+
+Of course Joe’s first visit was to his old place of business. He
+received a hearty greeting from Watson, his deputy.
+
+“I am glad to see you, Joe,” said he, grasping our hero’s hand
+cordially. “When did you arrive?”
+
+“Ten minutes ago. I have made you the first call.”
+
+“Perhaps you thought I might have ‘vamosed the ranch,’” said
+Watson, smiling, “and left you and the business in the lurch.”
+
+“I had no fears on that score,” said Joe. “Has business been good?”
+
+“Excellent. I have paid weekly your share of the profits to Mr.
+Morgan.”
+
+“Am I a millionaire yet?” asked Joe.
+
+“Not quite. I have paid Mr. Morgan on your account”--here Watson
+consulted a small account-book--“nine hundred and twenty-five
+dollars.”
+
+“Is it possible?” said Joe, gratified. “That is splendid.”
+
+“Then you are satisfied?”
+
+“More than satisfied.”
+
+“I am glad of it. I have made the same for myself and so have
+nearly half made up the sum which I so foolishly squandered at the
+gaming-table.”
+
+“I am glad for you, Mr. Watson.”
+
+“How have you prospered at the mines?”
+
+“I have had excellent luck.”
+
+“I don’t believe you bring home as much money as I have made for
+you here.”
+
+“Don’t bet on that, Mr. Watson, for you would lose.”
+
+“You don’t mean to say that you have made a thousand dollars?”
+exclaimed Watson, surprised.
+
+“I have made five thousand dollars within a hundred or two.”
+
+“Is it possible?” ejaculated Watson. “You beat everything for luck,
+Joe.”
+
+“So he does,” said Bickford, who felt that it was time for him to
+speak. “It’s lucky for me that I fell in with him. It brought me
+luck, too, for we went into partnership together.”
+
+“Have you brought home five thousand dollars, too?” asked Watson.
+
+“I’ve got about the same as Joe, and now I’m going home to marry
+Susan Smith if she’ll have me.”
+
+“She’ll marry a rich miner, Mr. Bickford. You needn’t be concerned
+about that.”
+
+“I feel pretty easy in mind,” said Joshua.
+
+“How soon do you sail?”
+
+“When does the next steamer go?”
+
+“In six days.”
+
+“I guess it’ll carry me.”
+
+Watson turned to Joe.
+
+“I suppose you will now take charge of your own business?” said he.
+“I am ready to hand over my trust at any minute.”
+
+“Would you object to retaining charge for--say for four months to
+come?” asked Joe.
+
+“Object? I should be delighted to do it. I couldn’t expect to make
+as much money any other way.”
+
+“You see, Mr. Watson, I am thinking of going home myself on a
+visit. I feel that I can afford it, and I should like to see my old
+friends and acquaintances under my new and improved circumstances.”
+
+Watson was evidently elated at the prospect of continued employment
+of so remunerative a character.
+
+“You may depend upon it that your interests are safe in my hands,”
+said he. “I will carry on the business as if it were my own.
+Indeed, it will be for my interest to do so.”
+
+“I don’t doubt it, Mr. Watson. I have perfect confidence In your
+management.”
+
+Joe’s next call was on his friend Morgan, by whom also he was
+cordially welcomed.
+
+“Have you called on Watson?” he asked.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then he has probably given you an idea of how your business has
+gone on during your absence. He is a thoroughly reliable man, in my
+opinion. You were fortunate to secure his services.”
+
+“So I think.”
+
+“Have you done well at the mines?” asked Mr. Morgan doubtfully.
+
+“You hope so, but you don’t feel confident?” said Joe, smiling.
+
+“You can read my thoughts exactly. I don’t consider mining as
+reliable as a regular business.”
+
+“Nor I, in general, but there is one thing you don’t take into
+account.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+Mr. Bickford answered the question.
+
+“Joe’s luck.”
+
+“Then you have been lucky?”
+
+“How much do you think I have brought home?”
+
+“A thousand dollars?”
+
+“Five times that sum.”
+
+“Are you in earnest?” asked Mr. Morgan, incredulous.
+
+“Wholly so.”
+
+“Then let me congratulate you--on that and something else.”
+
+“What is that?”
+
+“The lots you purchased, including the one on which your restaurant
+is situated, have more than doubled in value.”
+
+“Bully for you, Joe!” exclaimed Mr. Bickford enthusiastically.
+
+“It never rains but it pours,” said Joe, quoting an old proverb. “I
+begin to think I shall be rich some time, Mr. Morgan.”
+
+“It seems very much like it.”
+
+“What would you advise me to do, Mr. Morgan--sell out the lots at
+the present advance?”
+
+“Hold on to them, Joe. Not only do that, but buy more. This is
+destined some day to be a great city. It has a favorable location,
+is the great mining center, and the State, I feel convinced, has
+an immense territory fit for agricultural purposes. Lots here may
+fluctuate, but they will go up a good deal higher than present
+figures.”
+
+“If you think so, Mr. Morgan, I will leave in your hands three
+thousand dollars for investment in other lots. This will leave me,
+including my profits from the business during my absence, nearly
+three thousand dollars more, which I shall take East and invest
+there.”
+
+“I will follow your instructions, Joe, and predict that your real
+estate investments will make you rich sooner than you think.”
+
+“Joe,” said Bickford, “I’ve a great mind to leave half of my money
+with Mr. Morgan to be invested in the same way.”
+
+“Do it, Mr. Bickford. That will leave you enough to use at home.”
+
+“Yes--I can buy a farm for two thousand dollars and stock it for
+five hundred more. Besides, I needn’t pay more than half down, if I
+don’t want to.”
+
+“A good plan,” said Joe.
+
+“Mr. Morgan, will you take my money and invest it for me just like
+Joe’s? Of course I want you to take a commission for doing it.”
+
+“With pleasure, Mr. Bickford, more especially as I have decided to
+open a real estate office in addition to my regular business. You
+and Joe will be my first customers. I shouldn’t wonder if the two
+or three thousand dollars you leave with me should amount in ten
+years to ten thousand.”
+
+“Ten thousand!” ejaculated Joshua, elated. “Won’t I swell round
+Pumpkin Holler when I’m worth ten thousand dollars!”
+
+Six days later, among the passengers by the steamer for Panama,
+were Joseph Mason and Joshua Bickford.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL
+
+JOE’S WELCOME HOME
+
+
+On arriving in New York both Joe and Mr. Bickford bought new suits
+of clothes. Mr. Bickford purchased a blue dress suit, resplendent
+with brass buttons, and a gold watch and chain, which made a good
+deal of show for the money. His tastes were still barbaric, and a
+quiet suit of black would not have come up to his idea of what was
+befitting a successful California miner.
+
+He surveyed himself before the tailor’s glass with abundant
+satisfaction.
+
+“I guess that’ll strike ’em at home, eh, Joe?” he said.
+
+“You look splendid, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“Kinder scrumptious, don’t I?”
+
+“Decidedly so.”
+
+“I say, Joe, you’d better have a suit made just like this.”
+
+Joe shuddered at the thought. In refinement of taste he was
+decidedly ahead of his friend and partner.
+
+“I’m going to buy a second-hand suit,” he said.
+
+“What!” ejaculated Joshua.
+
+Joe smiled.
+
+“I knew you’d be surprised, but I’ll explain. I want people to
+think at first that I have been unlucky.”
+
+“Oh, I see,” said Joshua, nodding; “kinder take ’em in.”
+
+“Just so, Mr. Bickford.”
+
+“Well, there is something in that.”
+
+“Then I shall find out who my true friends are.”
+
+“Just so.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is not my purpose to describe Mr. Bickford’s arrival in Pumpkin
+Hollow, resplendent in his new suit. Joshua wouldn’t have changed
+places with the President of the United States on that day. His
+old friends gathered about him, and listened open-mouthed to
+his stories of mining life in California and his own wonderful
+exploits, which lost nothing in the telling. He found his faithful
+Susan unmarried, and lost no time in renewing his suit. He came, he
+saw, he conquered!
+
+In four weeks Susan became Mrs. Bickford, her husband became
+the owner of the farm he coveted, and he at once took his place
+among the prominent men of Pumpkin Hollow. In a few years he
+was appointed justice of the peace, and became known as Squire
+Bickford. It may be as well to state here, before taking leave
+of him, that his real estate investments in San Francisco proved
+fortunate, and in ten years he found himself worth ten thousand
+dollars. This to Joshua was a fortune, and he is looked upon as a
+solid man in the town where he resides.
+
+We now turn to Joe.
+
+Since his departure nothing definite had been heard of him. Another
+boy had taken his place on Major Norton’s farm, but he was less
+reliable than Joe.
+
+“I am out of patience with that boy. I wish I had Joe back again.”
+
+“Have you heard anything of Joe since he went away?” inquired Oscar.
+
+“Not a word.”
+
+“I don’t believe he went to California at all.”
+
+“In that case we should have heard from him.”
+
+“No, Joe’s proud--poor and proud!” said Oscar. “I guess he’s wished
+himself back many a time, but he’s too proud to own it.”
+
+“Joe was good to work,” said the major.
+
+“He was too conceited. He didn’t know his place. He thought himself
+as good as me,” said Oscar arrogantly.
+
+“Most people seemed to like Joe,” said the major candidly.
+
+“I didn’t,” said Oscar, tossing his head. “If he’d kept in his
+place and realized that he was a hired boy, I could have got along
+well enough with him.”
+
+“I wish he would come back,” said the major. “I would take him
+back.”
+
+“I dare say he’s had a hard time and would be humbler now,” said
+Oscar.
+
+At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and just afterward
+Joe entered.
+
+He wore a mixed suit considerably the worse for wear and patched in
+two or three places. There was a rip under the arm, and his hat, a
+soft felt one, had become shapeless from long and apparently hard
+usage. He stood in the doorway, waiting for recognition.
+
+“How do you do, Joe?” said Major Norton cordially. “I am glad to
+see you.”
+
+Joe’s face lighted up.
+
+“Thank you, sir,” he said.
+
+“Shake hands, Joe.”
+
+Major Norton was mean in money matters, but he had something of the
+gentleman about him.
+
+Oscar held aloof.
+
+“How do you do, Oscar?”
+
+“I’m well,” said Oscar. “Have you been to California?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“You don’t seem to have made your fortune,” said Oscar
+superciliously, eying Joe’s shabby clothing.
+
+“I haven’t starved,” said Joe.
+
+“Where did you get that suit of clothes?” asked Oscar.
+
+“I hope you’ll excuse my appearance,” said Joe.
+
+“Well, Joe, do you want to come back to your old place?” asked
+Major Norton. “I’ve got a boy, but he doesn’t suit me.”
+
+“How much would you be willing to pay me, Major Norton?”
+
+The major coughed.
+
+“Well,” said he, “I gave you your board and clothes before. That’s
+pretty good pay for a boy.”
+
+“I’m older now.”
+
+“I’ll do the same by you, Joe, and give you fifty cents a week
+besides.”
+
+“Thank you for the offer, Major Norton. I’ll take till to-morrow to
+think of it.”
+
+“You’d better accept it now,” said Oscar. “Beggars shouldn’t be
+choosers.”
+
+“I am not a beggar, Oscar,” said Joe mildly.
+
+“You look like one, anyway,” said Oscar bluntly.
+
+“Oscar,” said Major Norton, “if Joe has been unlucky, you shouldn’t
+throw it in his teeth.”
+
+“He went off expecting to make his fortune,” said Oscar, in an
+exulting tone. “He looks as if he had made it. Where are you going?”
+
+“I am going to look about the village a little. I will call again.”
+
+After Joe went out Oscar said:
+
+“It does me good to see Joe come in rags. Serves him right for
+putting on airs.”
+
+On the main street Joe met Annie Raymond.
+
+“Why, Joe!” she exclaimed, delighted. “Is it really you?”
+
+“Bad pennies always come back,” said Joe.
+
+“Have you---- I am afraid you have not been fortunate,” said the
+young lady, hesitating as she noticed Joe’s shabby clothes.
+
+“Do you think less of me for that?”
+
+“No,” said Annie Raymond warmly. “It is you I like, not your
+clothes. You may have been unfortunate, but I am sure you deserved
+success.”
+
+“You are a true friend, Miss Annie, so I don’t mind telling you
+that I was successful.”
+
+Annie Raymond looked astonished.
+
+“And these clothes--” she began.
+
+“I put on for Oscar Norton’s benefit. I wanted to see how he would
+receive me. He evidently rejoiced at my bad fortune.”
+
+“Oscar is a mean boy. Joe, you must come to our house to supper.”
+
+“Thank you, I will; but I will go round to the hotel and change my
+clothes.”
+
+“Never mind.”
+
+“But I do mind. I don’t fancy a shabby suit as long as I can afford
+to wear a good one.”
+
+Joe went to the hotel, took off his ragged clothes, put on a new
+and stylish suit which he recently had made for him, donned a gold
+watch and chain, and hat in the latest style, and thus dressed, his
+natural good looks were becomingly set off.
+
+“How do I look now?” he asked, when he met Miss Annie Raymond at
+her own door.
+
+“Splendidly, Joe. I thought you were a young swell from the city.”
+
+After supper Annie said, her eyes sparkling with mischief:
+
+“Suppose we walk over to Major Norton’s and see Oscar.”
+
+“Just what I wanted to propose.”
+
+Oscar was out in the front yard, when he caught sight of Joe and
+Annie Raymond approaching. He did not at first recognize Joe, but
+thought, like the young lady, that it was some swell from the city.
+
+“You see I’ve come again, Oscar,” said Joe, smiling.
+
+Oscar could not utter a word. He was speechless with astonishment.
+
+“I thought you were poor,” he uttered, at last.
+
+“I have had better luck than you thought.”
+
+“I suppose you spent all your money for those clothes.”
+
+“You are mistaken, Oscar. I am not so foolish. I left between two
+and three thousand dollars in a New York bank, and I have more than
+twice that in San Francisco.”
+
+“It isn’t possible!” exclaimed Oscar, surprised and disappointed.
+
+“Here is my bank-book; you can look at it,” and Joe pointed to a
+deposit of twenty-five hundred dollars. “I don’t think, Oscar, it
+will pay me to accept your father’s offer and take my old place.”
+
+“I don’t understand it. How did you do it?” asked the bewildered
+Oscar.
+
+“I suppose it was my luck,” said Joe.
+
+“Not wholly that,” said Annie Raymond. “It was luck and labor.”
+
+“I accept the amendment, Miss Annie.”
+
+Oscar’s manner changed at once. Joe, the successful Californian,
+was very different from Joe, the hired boy. He became very
+attentive to our hero, and before he left town condescended to
+borrow twenty dollars of him, which he never remembered to repay.
+He wanted to go back to California with Joe, but his father would
+not consent.
+
+When Joe returned to San Francisco, by advice of Mr. Morgan he sold
+out his restaurant to Watson and took charge of Mr. Morgan’s real
+estate business. He rose with the rising city, became a very rich
+man, and now lives in a handsome residence on one of the hills that
+overlook the bay. He has an excellent wife--our old friend, Annie
+Raymond--and a fine family of children. His domestic happiness is
+by no means the smallest part of Joe’s luck.
+
+
+THE END
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12823 ***