“BOTH gone!” exclaimed Colonel Two, hurrying into the saloon, at noon.
“_Both_ gone?” echoed two or three men.
“Yes,” said the colonel; “and the queerest thing is, they left
ev’rything behind—every darned thing! I never _did_ see such a stampede
afore—_I_ didn’t! Nobody’s got any idee of whar they be, nor what it’s
’bout neither.”
“Don’t be _too_ sartain, colonel!” piped Weasel, a self-contained mite
of a fellow, who was still at work upon his glass, filled at the last
general treat, although every one else had finished so long ago that
they were growing thirsty again—“don’t be _too_ sartain. Them detectives
bunked at my shanty last night.”
“The deuce they did!” cried the colonel. “Good the rest of us didn’t
know it.”
“Well,” said Weasel, moving his glass in graceful circles, to be sure
that all the sugar dissolved, “I dunno. It’s a respectable business, an’
I wanted to have a good look at ’em.”
“What’s that got to do with Jim and Tarpaulin?” look at demanded the
colonel, fiercely.
“Wait, and I’ll tell you,” replied Weasel, provokingly, taking a
leisurely sip at his glass. “Jim come down to see ’em——”
“What?” cried the colonel.
“An’ told ’em he knew their man, an’ would help find him,” continued
Weasel. “They offered him the thousand dollars——”
“Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!” groaned the colonel; “who’s a feller to trust in
this world! The idee of Jim goin’ back on a pardner fur a thousand! I
wouldn’t hev b’lieved he’d a-done it fur a million!”
“An’ he told ’em he’d cram it down their throats if they mentioned it
again.”
“Bully! Hooray fur Jim!” shouted the colonel. “What’ll yer take,
fellers? Fill high! Here’s to Jim! the feller that b’lieves his friend’s
innercent!”
The colonel looked thoughtfully into his glass, and remarked, as if to
his own reflection therein, “Ain’t many such men here nur nowhars else!”
after which he drank the toast himself.
“But that don’t explain what Tarpaulin went fur,” said the colonel,
suddenly.
“Yes, it does,” said the exasperating Weasel, shutting his thin lips so
tightly that it was hard to see where his mouth was.
“What?” cried the colonel. “’Twould take a four-horse corkscrew to get
anything out o’ you, you dried-up little scoundrel!”
“Why!” replied Weasel, greatly pleased by the colonel’s compliment,
“after what you said about hair and beard hidin’ a man, one of them
fellers cut a card an’ held it over the picture, so as to hide hair an’
chin. The forehead an’ face an’ nose an’ ears wuz Tarpaulin’s, an’
nobody else’s.”
“Lightning’s blazes!” roared the colonel. “Ha, ha, ha! why, Tarpaulin
hisself came into my shanty, an’ looked at the pictur’, an’ talked to
them ’bout it! Trot out yer glass-ware, barkeeper—_got_ to drink to a
feller that’s ez cool ez all that!”
The boys drank with the colonel, but they were too severely astonished
to enjoy the liquor particularly. In fact, old Bermuda, who had never
taken anything but plain rye, drank three fingers of claret that day,
and did not know of it until told.
The colonel’s mind was unusually excited. It seemed to him there were a
number of probabilities upon which to hang bets. He walked outside, that
his meditation might be undisturbed, but in an instant he was back,
crying:
“Lady comin’!”
Shirt-sleeves and trowsers-legs were hurriedly rolled down,
shirt-collars were buttoned, hats were dusted, and then each man went
leisurely out, with the air of having merely happened to leave the
saloon—an air which imposed upon no disinterested observer.
Coming up the trail beside the creek were a middle-aged gentleman and a
young lady, both on horseback.
The gentleman’s dress and general style plainly indicated that he was
not a miner, nor a storekeeper, nor a barkeeper; while it was equally
evident that the lady was neither a washerwoman, a cook, nor a member of
either of the very few professions which were open to ladies on the
Pacific Coast in those days.
This much every miner quickly decided for himself; but after so
deciding, each miner reached the uttermost extremity of his wits, and
devoted himself to staring.
The couple reined up before the saloon, and the gentleman drew something
small and black and square from his pocket.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “we are looking for an old friend of ours, and
have traced him to this camp. We scarcely know whether it would be any
use to give his name, but here is his picture. Can any one remember
having seen the person here?”
Every one looked toward Colonel Two, he being the man with the most
practical tongue in camp.
The colonel took the picture, and Weasel slipped up behind him and
looked over his shoulder. The colonel looked at the picture, abruptly
handed it back, looked at the young lady, and then gazed vacantly into
space, and seemed very uncomfortable.
“Been here, but gone,” said the colonel, at length.
“Where did he go, do you know?” asked the gentleman, while the lady’s
eyes dropped wearily.
“Nobody knows—only been gone a day or two,” replied the colonel.
The colonel had a well-developed heart, and, relying on what he
considered the correct idea of Jim Hockson’s mission, ventured to say:
“He’ll be back in a day or two—left all his things.”
Suddenly Weasel raised his diminutive voice, and said:
“The detec——”
The determined grip of the colonel’s hand interrupted the communication
which Weasel attempted to make, and the colonel hastily remarked:
“Ther’s a feller gone for him that’s sure to fetch him back.”
“Who—who is it?” asked the young lady, hesitatingly.
“Well, ma’am,” said the colonel, “as yer father—I s’pose,
leastways—said, ’tain’t much use to give names in this part of the
world, but the name he’s goin’ by is Jim Hockson.”
The young lady screamed and fell.