BILL MOSELY REAPPEARS.
It will be necessary to go back a little in order to explain how so
extraordinary a charge came to be made against the party in which we are
interested.
Bill Mosely and Tom Hadley did not become reconciled to the loss of
their stolen horses. They found it much less agreeable to use their own
legs than the legs of the two mustangs which had borne them so
comfortably over the hills. They cursed the fate which had led to their
meeting with Ki Sing, and the poor Chinaman would have fared worse at
their hands had they anticipated the trouble which he indirectly brought
them.
Bill Mosely was naturally lazy; any sort of work he considered beneath
him, and he desired to avoid all possible trouble in the lawless and
vagabond life which he had chosen. He took it worse, indeed, than his
companion, who was neither so shiftless nor so lazy as he.
During the few days which had elapsed since they were glad to leave the
mountain-cabin they had averaged less than ten miles' daily travel. They
had money enough to purchase animals to replace those which had been
taken from them, but had not found any one who was willing to sell for a
reasonable price, and Mosely, though he came easily by his money, was
far from lavish in the spending of it.
It chanced that an hour after the arrival of Richard Dewey and his party
at the Golden Gulch Hotel, Mosely and his companion, dusty and tired,
approached the small mining-settlement, of which the hotel was the
principal building.
They had had nothing to eat since morning, and both of them felt hungry,
not to say ravenous.
"Thank Heaven, Tom, there's a mining-town!" ejaculated Mosely, with an
expression of devotion not usual to him. "Now we can get something to
eat, and I, for my part, feel as empty as a drum. It's hard travelling
on an empty stomach."
"I should say so," remarked Mr. Hadley, with his usual formula. It must
be admitted, however, that in the present instance he was entirely
sincere, and fully meant what he said.
"There's a hotel," said Tom Hadley, a minute later, venturing on an
original observation.
"So there is; what is the name?" inquired Mosely, who was not as
far-sighted as his companion.
"The Golden Gulch Hotel," answered Hadley, shading his eyes and reading
from a distance of fifty rods the pretentious sign of the little inn.
"I suppose they'll charge a fortune for a supper," said Mosely, whose
economical spirit was troubled by the exorbitant prices then prevalent
in California, "but we must have it at any cost."
"I should say so," assented Tom Hadley, cordially.
"You always have a good appetite of your own," observed Mosely, not
without sarcasm, which, however, Tom Hadley was too obtuse to
comprehend.
"I should say so," returned Tom complacently, as if he had received a
compliment.
"No doubt you'll get your money's worth, no matter how much we pay for
supper."
Tom Hadley himself was of this opinion, and so expressed himself.
They had already caught sight of two mustangs which were browsing near
the Golden Gulch Hotel, and the sight of these useful animals excited
the envy and longing of Bill Mosely.
"Do you see them mustangs, Tom?" he inquired.
"I should say so."
"I wish we had them."
"Couldn't we take them?" suggested Hadley, his face brightening at the
thought of this easy mode of acquiring what they so much needed.
"Are you mad, Tom Hadley?" returned Bill Mosely, shrugging his
shoulders. "Are you anxious to die?"
"I should say--not."
"Then you'd better not think of carrying off them horses. Why, we'd have
the whole pack of miners after us, and we'd die in our boots before
twenty-four hours had passed."
On the whole, this prospect did not appear to be of an encouraging
character, and Tom Hadley quietly dropped the plan.
"Perhaps we can buy them," suggested Mosely by way of amendment. "I've
got tired of tramping over these hills on foot. After we've got some
supper we'll inquire who they belong to."
Up to this point neither Mosely nor his companion suspected that the
mustangs which they desired to purchase had once been in their
possession. That discovery was to come later.
Before reaching the Golden Gulch Hotel they encountered the landlord,
already introduced as Jim Brown.
Mr. Brown scanned the new-comers with an eye to business. Being
strangers, he naturally looked upon them as possible customers, and was
disposed from motives of policy to cultivate their acquaintance.
"Evenin', strangers," he remarked, as affably as a rather gruff voice
and manner would permit.
"Good-evening," said Bill Mosely, socially. "What might be the name of
this settlement?"
"You kin see the name on that sign yonder, stranger, ef your eyes are
strong enough."
"Golden Gulch?"
"I reckon."
"It ought to be a good place, from the name."
"It's middlin' good. Where might you be from?"
"We're prospectin' a little," answered Bill Mosely vaguely; for there
had been circumstances in his California career that made it impolitic
to be too definite in his statements.
"Where are you bound?" continued the landlord, with that licensed
curiosity which no one ventured to object to in California.
"That depends upon circumstances, my friend," said Bill Mosely,
guardedly. "We may go to 'Frisco, and then again we may not. To-night we
propose to remain here in Golden Gulch. Is that a comfortable hotel?"
"Well, stranger, seein' I keep it myself, it mightn't be exactly the
thing for me to say much about it; but I reckon you won't complain of it
if you stop there."
"I'm glad to meet you," said Bill Mosely, grasping the landlord's hand
fervently. "I don't need to ask any more about it, seein' you're the
landlord. You look like a man that can keep a hotel--eh, Tom?"
"I should say so," returned Tom Hadley, making the answer that was
expected of him.
"You're a gentleman!" said Jim Brown, on whom this flattery had its
effect. "Just come along with me and I'll see that you are treated as
such."
"What are your terms, say, for supper and lodgin', landlord?" asked
Bill, with commendable caution.
"Five dollars," answered Brown.
Bill Mosely's jaw fell. He had hoped it would be less.
"And for supper alone?" he asked.
"Two dollars."
"We'll only take supper," said Mosely.
"Just as you say."
"We're so used to campin' out that we couldn't breathe in-doors--eh,
Tom?"
"I should say so, Bill."
"Suit yourselves, strangers. I reckon you'll want breakfast in the
mornin'."
"As likely as not." Then, turning his attention to the mustangs: "Are
them mustangs yours, landlord?"
"No; they belong to a party that's stoppin' with me."
"Will they sell?"
"I reckon not. There's a lame man in the party, and he can't walk much."
"A lame man? Who is with him?" asked Bill Mosely, with a sudden
suspicion of the truth.
"Well, there's another man and a boy and a heathen Chinee."
"Tom," said Bill Mosely, in excitement, "it's the party we left on the
mountain."
"I should say so, Bill."
"Do you know them, strangers?"
"Know them?" ejaculated Bill Mosely, who instantly formed a plan which
would gratify his love of vengeance and secure him the coveted horses at
one and the same time--"I reckon I know them only too well. They stole
those mustangs from me and my friend a week ago. I thought them animals
looked natural."
"Hoss-thieves!" said the landlord. "Well, I surmised there was something
wrong about them when they let that yaller heathen set down to the table
with them."