ON THE MOUNTAIN PATH.
My readers will not have forgotten Bill Mosely and his companion Tom
Hadley, who played the mean trick upon Bradley and our hero of
stealing their horses. I should be glad to state that they were
overtaken and punished within twenty-four hours, but it would not be
correct. They had a great advantage over their pursuers, who had
only their own feet to help them on, and, at the end of the first
day, were at least ten miles farther on than Ben and Bradley.
As the two last, wearied and well-nigh exhausted, sat down to rest,
Bradley glanced about him long and carefully in all directions.
"I can't see anything of them skunks, Ben," he said.
"I suppose not, Jake. They must be a good deal farther on."
"Yes, I reckon so. They've got the horses to help them, while we've
got to foot it. It was an awful mean trick they played on us."
"That's so, Jake."
"All I ask is to come up with 'em some of these days."
"What would you do?"
"I wouldn't take their lives, for I ain't no murderer, but I'd tie
'em hand and foot, and give 'em a taste of a horsewhip, or a switch,
till they'd think they was schoolboys again."
"You might not be able to do it. They would be two to one."
"Not quite, Ben. I'd look for some help from you."
"I would give you all the help I could," said Ben.
"I know you mean it, and that you wouldn't get scared, and desert
me, as a cousin of mine did once when I was set upon by robbers."
"Was that in California?"
"No; in Kentucky. I had a tough job, but I managed to disable one of
the rascals, and the other ran away."
"What did your cousin have to say?"
"He told me, when I caught up with him, that he was goin' in search
of help, but I told him that was too thin. I told him I wouldn't
keep his company any longer, and that he had better go his way and I
would go mine. He tried to explain things, but there are some things
that ain't so easily explained, that I wouldn't hear him. I stick to
my friends, and I expect them to stand by me."
"That's fair, Jake."
"That's the way I look at it. I wonder where them rascals are?"
"You mean Mosely and his friend?"
"Yes. What galls me, Ben, is that they're likely laughin' in their
shoes at the way they've tricked us, and there's no help for it."
"Not just now, Jake, but we may overtake them yet. Till we do, we
may as well take things as easy as we can."
"You're right, Ben. You'mind me of an old man that used to live in
the place where I was raised. He never borrered any trouble, but
when things was contrary, he waited for 'em to take a turn. When he
saw a neighbor frettin', he used to say, 'Fret not thy gizzard, for
it won't do no good.'"
Ben laughed.
"That was good advice," he said.
"I don't know where he got them words from. Maybe they're in the
Bible."
"I guess not," said Ben, smiling. "They don't sound like it."
"Perhaps you're right," said Bradley, not fully convinced, however.
"Seems to me I've heard old Parson Brown get off something to that
effect."
"Perhaps it was this-'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"
"Perhaps it was. Is that from the Bible?"
"Yes."
"It might have been made a little stronger," said Bradley
thoughtfully. "The evil of some days is more than sufficient,
accordin' to my notion."
The two explorers camped out as usual, and the fatigue of their
day's tramp insured them a deep, refreshing sleep. The next day they
resumed their journey, and for several days to come no incident
worthy of mention varied the monotony of their march. Toward the
close of the fourth day they saw from a distance a figure
approaching them, who seemed desirous of attracting their attention.
Ben was the first to see him.
"Jake," said he, "look yonder!"
"It's a Chinee!" said Bradley, in surprise.
"How did the critter come here, in the name of wonder?"
"I suppose he is looking for gold as well as we."
"The heathen seems to be signalin' us. He's wavin' his arm."
This was the case. The Chinaman, for some reason, seemed to wish to
attract the attention of the newcomers. He stopped short, and waited
for Ben and Bradley to come up.
"Who are you, my yeller friend?" asked Bradley, when he was near
enough to be heard.
"My name Ki Sing."
"Glad to hear it. I can't say I ever heard of your family, but I
reckon from the name, it's a musical one."
Ki Sing probably did not understand the tenor of Bradley's remark.
"Is there any hotel round here, Mr. Sing?" asked Ben jocosely,
"where two weary travelers can put up for the night?"
"Nohotellee!"
"Then where do you sleep?"
"Me sleep on glound."
"Your bed is a pretty large one, then," said Bradley. "The great
objection to it is, that it is rather hard."
Ki Sing's mind was evidently occupied by some engrossing thought,
which prevented his paying much attention to Bradley's jocose
observations.
"Melican man wantee you," he said, in an excited manner.
"What's that?" asked Bradley. "Melican man want me?"
Ki Sing nodded.
"Where is he?"
Ki Sing turned, and pointed to a rude hut some half a mile away in a
little mountain nook.
"Melican man thele," he said.
"Come along, Ben," said Bradley. "Let us see what this means. It may
be some countryman of ours who is in need of help."
The Chinaman trotted along in advance, and our two friends followed
him.