FURTHER ADVENTURES OF BILL MOSELY.
Bill Mosley and his companion pushed on after leaving the poor Chinaman
tied to the tree.
"The yellow heathen may starve, for all I care," said Mosely,
carelessly. "It's all his own fault. Why didn't he speak up like a man
and tell me what I wanted to know?"
"I should say so," chimed in Tom Hadley.
"The question is now, 'Whereabouts is that cabin we are in search of?'"
Hadley appeared to have no idea, and no suggestion to offer.
"It strikes me it must be somewhere near the top of the mountain," said
Mosely. "What do you say?"
"I should say so."
"Then we'll take the shortest way to the summit. I tell you, Tom, we're
on the track of something rich. We'll take all this fellow's gold-dust,
and he can't help himself. It'll be richer than any claim we've worked
yet, if it pans out as well as I expect--eh, Tom?"
"I should say so, Bill," answered Hadley, with an expression of
interest.
"I tell you, Tom," said Bill Mosely, complacently, "you were in luck
when you fell in with me. We've done pretty well since we j'ined hosses,
pard."
"I should say so--but," added Hadley, after a pause, "it would go hard
with us if we got caught."
"We don't mean to get caught," said Mosely, promptly. "As for this new
job, there's no danger in it. This man is down with a broken leg, and he
can't help our taking his gold. The Chinaman's out of the way, and we've
got a clear field. Take a good look, Tom, for your eyes are better than
mine, and tell me if you see anything that looks like a cabin anywhere
around?"
This inquiry was made some twenty minutes after they had left Ki Sing.
They had pursued a circuitous course, or in half the time they might
have been as near the cabin as they now were.
Tom Hadley didn't answer in his customary phrase, but instead raised
himself erect on his mustang and looked sharply about him.
"Well?" demanded Mosely, impatiently.
"I don't see anything that looks like a cabin," said Hadley,
deliberately, "but I think I see smoke."
"Where?" asked his companion in an eager tone.
"There," said Tom Hadley, pointing with his whip in a particular
direction.
Mosely strained his eyes, but he was a trifle near-sighted and could see
nothing.
"I can't see anything," he said, "but that proves nothing. If there's
smoke, there's a house. There's no question about that, and there's not
likely to be more than one cabin about here. Steer in the direction of
the smoke, Tom, and I'll follow in your tracks. My horse is getting
tired; he'll be glad to rest for the night."
"Will it be safe?" queried Hadley.
"Safe enough. The Chinaman is disposed of, and as for this broken-legged
Dewey, we'll bind him fast and set him outside of the cabin while we
make ourselves comfortable within. I shall be sorry to inconvenience
him, but when a man has company he must expect to be put out--eh, Tom?"
"I should say so, Bill."
The two worthy gentlemen kept on their way till, making a sudden turn,
the house, which had hitherto been concealed from them by a cliff, stood
plainly revealed.
"There it is, Tom!" cried Mosely, joyfully. "We've found it, in spite of
that lying heathen. It seems good to see a house after wandering about
for weeks without a chance to sleep under a roof--eh, Tom?"
"I should say so, Bill."
It will be observed that Mr. William Mosely was fond of designating Ki
Sing as a heathen, evidently appreciating his own superiority as a
Christian. Yet I am inclined to think that a heathen like the Chinaman
possessed more moral worth than a dozen Christians of the type of
Mosely. From youth he had preyed upon the community, and his aim had
been to get a living in any way that did not involve labor. Honesty was
an obsolete word in his vocabulary, and a successful theft yielded him a
satisfaction such as other men derive from the consciousness of
well-doing. In fact, Mosely's moral nature was warped, and there was
very little chance of his reformation.
Now that the cabin was near at hand, the two men did not quicken their
speed, for the ascent was somewhat steep and their animals were tired.
"Take it easy, Tom. The whole thing's in our hands. Wonder whether
Dewey's expectin' visitors?" he added, chuckling. "I say, Hadley, he'll
be glad to see us--don't you think so?"
"I should say so," returned Hadley, before the joke dawned upon him.
"You see, we are going to relieve him of the care of that gold-dust of
his. We're two bankers from 'Frisco, that's what we are, and we'll take
care of all the gold-dust we can take in."
"I shall want my half," said Tom Hadley, unexpectedly deviating from his
customary formula.
Mosely shrugged his shoulders. He did not quite like this new
disposition of Hadley's to look after his own interests, but at present
did not think it politic to say much about it. Though Tom Hadley had
generally been subservient to him, he knew very well that if any
difficulty should arise between them Tom would be a formidable
antagonist. Fortunately for him, Hadley did not know his own power, or
he would not have remained in subjection to a man whom he could have
overcome had he been so disposed. He did not fully believe Bill Mosely's
ridiculous boasts of his own prowess, but he was nevertheless disposed
to overrate the man who made so many pretensions. All he asked was a
fair share of the booty which the two together managed to secure, and
this he had made up his mind to have.
They reached the cabin at last, and halted their horses before the door.
Both sprang off, and Bill Mosely, with a sign to his companion to remain
in charge of them, entered at the open door.
"Is that you, Ki Sing?" asked Dewey, whose face was turned toward the
wall.
Bill Mosely could not tell from the way he lay on the pallet, covered
with a blanket, whether his leg were broken or not, but believed that
this was the case. "That doesn't happen to be my name, stranger," he
answered.
Richard Dewey turned suddenly on his low bed and fixed his eyes on the
intruder. "Who are you? what do you want?" he demanded suspiciously.
"I thought I'd come round and make you a call, being in the
neighborhood," answered Mosely, with a smile.
"Who are you?"
"Well, I'm not the President of the United States, nor I ain't Queen
Victoria, as I know of," said Mosely.
"You look more like a horse-thief," said Richard Dewey, bluntly.
"Do you mean to insult me?" exclaimed Bill Mosely, fiercely. "Do you
know who I am?"
Dewey was not easily frightened, and he answered coolly, "You haven't
told me yet."
"Well, I'm Bill Mosely from the State of Missouri. I'm a regular tearer,
I am. I don't take no back talk. When a man insults me I kill him."
"Very well. Now I know who you are," said Richard Dewey, calmly. "Now,
what do you want?"
"How much gold-dust have you in this cabin? We may as well come to
business."
"None at all."
"I know better. You can't pull wool over my eyes. Your Chinaman tells a
different story."
"Ha! Have you seen Ki Sing?" asked Dewey, interested at last.
"Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting the heathen you refer to."
"Where is he now? Can you tell me?"
"To the best of my knowledge he is tied to a tree a mile or so from
here. I don't think he will get away very easily."
"Scoundrel! you shall answer for this!" exclaimed Richard Dewey,
springing to his feet, and thereby showing that neither of his legs was
broken.