BUSTED AND DISGUSTED.
THE NEXT morning, after a hearty breakfast, during which he listened
once more to Zeke’s plans and instructions, Guy mounted his horse, and
led by the old clay-bank, set out for Mr. Wilson’s rancho.
The journey did not seem nearly so long and tiresome now as it did the
day before, for he had something beside his bodily aches and pains to
think of. He had seen a live hunter, had made a friend of him, and by
that time to-morrow, if nothing happened to prevent, he would be on the
way to his hunting-grounds. Dreaming of the glorious life he was so soon
to commence made the way seem short to him.
About four o’clock in the afternoon he drew up with his little train in
front of Mr. Wilson’s house, and found that gentleman waiting for him.
“Wal, you done it, didn’t you?” exclaimed the ranchman, as Guy swung
himself from the saddle, “an’ didn’t get lost, nor throwed, nuther.
Whose rifle have you got thar?”
“Zeke’s—or rather yours,” said Guy. “Zeke doesn’t want it, for he can’t
stay long enough to earn it. He’s going back to his hunting-grounds, and
wants you to send a man down to relieve him.”
“Oh, he does, does he?” exclaimed Mr. Wilson. “Whar’s your huntin’ kit?”
“I left it with Zeke. He wants to try the rifle.”
“Wal, if you hain’t the most confidin’ boy I ever see in all my born
days, I don’t want a cent,” said the ranchman. “I told you that you’d
find him a mighty palaverin’ sort of a feller, an’ I thought that would
put you on your guard. You’ll never see them things of your’n agin.
Zeke’s gettin’ ready to run away. I can see that plain enough; but if he
takes any of my property with him, ef it’s even so much as a bar of
lead, I’ll have all the constables in the valley arter him in the shake
of a buck’s tail. He’s ’arned a hoss since he’s been here, and that’s
all he can take with him. I’ll ride down myself, to-morrow, an’ see what
he means by such actin’.”
Mr. Wilson’s words made Guy rather uneasy. He did not want to doubt the
hunter—Zeke had been so very cordial and so profuse in his promises of
friendship and assistance that the boy had implicit faith in him—but
still he begun to think that he had been rather hasty in trusting him.
If Zeke run away with his hunting-kit, he would be just thirty-five
dollars out of pocket. But he need not have been under any
apprehensions. The hunter certainly intended to possess himself of all
Guy’s property, but he wanted at the same time to get his hands on the
twenty-five dollars the boy carried in his monk-bag.
Mr. Wilson begun fishing up from the capacious depths of the pack-saddle
the things Zeke had stowed away there, and Guy thought he looked a
little disappointed when he found that his property had all been
returned to him. The hunter, knowing the disposition of the man with
whom he had to deal, had sent back everything.
The hours between four o’clock and dark passed away very slowly. Knowing
that he had many a mile of hard riding yet to do before he could go to
sleep, Guy refreshed himself with a hearty supper, and then lay down on
a bench under the porch. He grew very restless and impatient as the
appointed time drew near, and although he longed for its arrival, he
almost dreaded to have it come, for if Zeke broke his word, there was
another bright hope dashed to the ground.
It begun to grow dark at last, and Guy stepped down from the porch, and
walked slowly toward the “spouting well,” as Zeke had called it, looking
back every few steps to make sure that he was not followed.
He was not obliged to wait even a moment at the water-tank, for his new
friend, faithful to his promise, was there with two horses. Guy was
greatly relieved.
“Halloo, pard!” said he. “I’m glad you have come, for I begun to feel a
little shaky. Mr. Wilson told me that I’d never see my things again.”
“You got that money with you?” asked Zeke.
“Of course I have.”
“Whar is it?”
“In my monk-bag around my neck. Have you got my rifle and other things?”
“Sartin. We couldn’t well travel cl’ar to Kansas without ’em, I reckon.
So Wilson tried to make you believe I was a-goin’ back on you, did he?
What else did he say?”
“He says he is going to ride down to see you to-morrow, and find out
what you mean by such actions.”
“All right. That will give us a hull day the start of him if he tries to
foller us. Here’s your hoss.”
Guy was aching in every bone and muscle after his long ride (eighty
miles in two days was quite an achievement for a boy who had never
ridden on horseback before), and it was only after considerable trouble
and some assistance from the hunter that he succeeded in climbing into
his saddle. It was hard work, too, to keep up with Zeke, who at once put
his horse into a gallop and went ahead, as if he were in a great hurry.
He never drew rein, even long enough to speak to Guy, until midnight,
and then the only reason he stopped was because the moon went down and
it was too dark to travel.
He and Guy stretched themselves out under a tree beside the road without
lighting a fire, and slept soundly until morning. At the first peep of
day they ate a little of the dried beef with which Zeke had filled Guy’s
game-bag, and then resumed their rapid ride, halting only for a few
minutes at noon to rest their horses and eat a hasty luncheon.
Guy was fast giving out, in spite of the excitement which had thus far
kept him up, and when, just as the sun was sinking, they entered a
little glade surrounded by a wilderness of trees and rocks, he doggedly
threw himself from his horse and declared that he could not ride a step
farther.
“How far are we from Mr. Wilson’s?” he asked.
“A matter of sixty or seventy miles, mebbe,” replied Zeke.
“Well, that added to eighty makes a hundred and forty or fifty miles
that I have ridden on horseback during the last three days,” groaned
Guy. “An iron boy couldn’t stand more. I don’t see the need of so much
haste anyhow.”
“Thar was need of it,” said Zeke, “but I reckon we’re out of danger
now.”
Guy not being aware that they had been in any danger, could not imagine
what Zeke meant; but he was too tired to ask any questions.
“I reckon we’d best stop here two or three days an’ take a good rest and
hunt,” continued Zeke. “I’ll give you some lessons in shootin’ and
throwin’ the lasso. It won’t take me long to learn you to be jest as
good a hunter as I am; an’ if thar’s any a-goin’ that can beat me, I
never seed ’em. Now lay down an’ I’ll go out an’ shoot something fur
supper.”
“I don’t want any supper,” said Guy. “All I want is rest and sleep. If
the second mate of the Santa Maria had been pounding me with a rope’s
end for an hour, I couldn’t be any nearer used up than I am now.”
Zeke became very officious all at once. He raked together a pile of
leaves under the shelter of a huge rock, placed Guy’s saddle at one end
of it for a pillow, and when the boy had stretched his weary limbs upon
the couch thus hastily made up for him, the hunter threw his poncho and
blanket over his shoulders, and tucked them snugly about him. Before the
operation was completed Guy was sound asleep.
He slept in blissful ignorance of what was passing near him. Once he
thought that the blankets were pulled cautiously off his shoulders and a
hand thrust into his pocket; but so firmly were his senses locked in
slumber that he was not fairly aroused by these movements. He knew
nothing for twelve long hours, and then he was awakened by the neighing
of a horse.
He started up feeling very much refreshed, but almost dropped back upon
his bed again when he saw that his monk-bag had been turned inside out
and was resting on his breast.
His pockets, too, had been pulled out, and some of the articles they had
contained were missing, while others were scattered about over the
ground. His rifle, game-bag and blankets had disappeared, and even Zeke
and his horse were nowhere to be seen.
There were no signs that the hunter had kindled a fire during the night.
He must have robbed Guy and made off as soon as the latter was fairly
asleep. All he had left him was the clothes he had on his back, the
horse he had ridden, and the saddle and bridle.
Guy realized his situation the instant his eyes were fairly opened.
Utterly discouraged at last, he threw himself back upon the ground,
wishing from the bottom of his heart that he was dead.
“I’ve been robbed! I’ve been robbed!” he kept saying to himself. “And
here I am in these mountains without a bite to eat or a friend to help
me! What shall I do! what shall I do!”
Guy lay for fully an hour in a sort of stupor, from which he was aroused
at last by the pangs of hunger. There was no need that he should stay
there and starve, he told himself, while Zeke had been considerate
enough to leave him a horse. Perhaps the animal could carry him to some
human habitation. The experiment was at least worth a trial.
The horse proved to be very uneasy, and Guy, being unaccustomed to such
business, was nearly half an hour in putting the saddle and bridle on
him. But at last he got everything fixed to his satisfaction, and
climbing upon the animal’s back, he started—he knew not whither.
After trying in vain to find a road or trail leading from the glade, he
plunged blindly into the woods, and during the next two days lived in a
state of agony, both of body and mind, that I cannot describe. He rode
while daylight lasted without a mouthful to eat, and slept at night on
the hard ground.
Sometimes he would allow his horse to have his own way, believing that
the animal’s instinct would lead him out of the wilderness, and then
again he would resume control of him, and try to find his own way out.
How often during those two days did Guy tell himself that if he lived to
get out of that scrape he would lose not an hour in starting for the
States; and if he once reached them he would never again be tempted to
leave them.
He had seen enough of the woods, and of the ocean, too. Other boys might
think as they pleased, and story-tellers might write as they pleased
about the joys, the ease and romance of a hunter’s and a sailor’s life,
but as for him, give him a quiet home on shore and among civilized
people.
At last, when Guy was so weak with fasting that he could scarcely keep
his seat in the saddle, and so disheartened that he was more than once
on the point of throwing himself under the nearest tree and resigning
himself to his fate, his deliverance came, and so suddenly that it
almost took his breath away. His horse, which during the last few hours
had been allowed to go where he pleased, plunged through an almost
impassable thicket of bushes, carrying his rider into a broad,
well-beaten road that led down the mountains.
The animal seemed as delighted at this evidence of civilization as Guy
did. No sooner was he fairly in the road than he broke into a gallop,
and in less than five minutes brought his rider to a little tumble-down
shanty, where half a dozen miners were lounging on the porch. They all
started up and looked at Guy in amazement, seemingly unable to make up
their minds whether he was a live boy or a ghost.
“Halloo!” exclaimed one of the men, “who on earth are you, and where did
you come from?”
“I have been lost in the mountains for the last two days, and am almost
starved to death,” answered Guy, in a faint voice.
“Well, I should say you were, if one can judge by your looks. Come in.
Such as we’ve got you’re welcome to.”
The man approached to assist Guy to dismount, and it was well he did so,
for he was just in time to receive him in his arms. The boy was utterly
overcome with weakness, and when he tried to swing himself from his
saddle his head reeled, and he would have fallen to the ground if the
man had not supported him.
“He’s pretty near gone up,” said one of the miners, “but I guess a bit
of something will bring him around all right.”
The speaker secured Guy’s horse, another assisted him into the house and
seated him on a bench, a third brought from a cupboard an abundant
supply of bread and meat, which he placed before him, and the others
stood around, waiting with no little curiosity and impatience to hear
his story.
The miners had seen any number of hungry men since they had been in the
mountains, but that was the first time they had ever seen food disappear
so rapidly before a boy of Guy’s size. The latter was perfectly
ravenous. He stopped at last, not because he had eaten enough, but
because his host interfered and took away the eatables.
“Thar, now,” said the man, “you’ve stowed away about enough of that grub
for this time, and you had better let up or you’ll bust.”
“I am busted already,” said Guy, wiping his lips; “busted and
disgusted.”
“Broke?” asked the man.
“Flat as a pancake,” said Guy. “I am very grateful for your kindness,
sir, and am sorry I cannot in some way repay it. I am able to go on now,
and would be glad if you would show me the nearest road to the States.”
“Going to leave Californy?”
“Just as fast as horse-flesh can carry me.”
“But how did you come to get lost?”
Guy’s story was a short one, and was soon told. Some of the miners
seemed to believe it, while others looked a little incredulous. But Guy
did not care for that. He had the best of evidence that every word he
uttered was the truth.
While he was telling his story a horseman drew up before the shanty, and
dismounting, proceeded to give Guy’s steed a good looking over, closely
examining a brand on the animal’s flank, and referring occasionally to a
note-book which he drew from his pocket. The miners watched every move
he made, now and then exchanging winks with one another, and looking
toward Guy in a way the latter could not understand.
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