"Did you say something, sir?" asked the darky.
"No, I didn't," replied Tom.
"Yes, sar, dat was the purtiest sight I ever saw. De man dealt himself fo' aces, and one of the sharpers, the one that was hottest after his money, fo' kings. De best of it was he drew fo' cards, so he knew right where de cards were stocked. The sharper thought there had been a mistake somewhere, and went down in his jeans and pulled out his money, fifteen thousand dollars' wuth. De man saw him,—he had more bills where dem came from,—and de sharper showed fo' kings; but when he went to take de money—I declare, your head is awful dirty. I think a shampoo will set you just about right."
"I don't want it. Go on. When he went to take the money—then what?"
"Well, he put down de fo' aces with one hand and drew his revolver with the other. De sharper concluded he would let the money stay; and dat broke up de game. You ought to have seen dat sharper's face. He's a mighty slick rogue, and I bet you he'll put a ball into dat sheep-herder before we gets up to Fort Gibson."
"Why don't you tell him of it?"
"Shucks! What do I want to go and get myself into trouble for? He goes up and down dis road every year and he knows it already. It aint none of my business."
The reader will remember that we are describing things that happened a good many years ago. At that time the cotton-planters, and the cattle-and sheep-herders who lived far back in the country, made use of the steamboats, which were the only means of communication they had. Gambling was much in vogue, and if the sharpers who met them at New Orleans couldn't find any means of inducing them to play there, they would take passage in these boats and try them again when every other influence except reading was at a discount. It was a dangerous thing to pick up a stranger on these trips, especially if one had money with him, or anything that could be changed into money. For instance, there was a contractor who started from New Orleans to do some government business at Little Rock. He had half a dozen teams and everything he wanted to make his enterprise successful, with the exception of the men. Those he was going to hire of the planters, and of course he had to have some money to do it with. On the way up he fell in with a very modest stranger who didn't know anything about playing cards, and the consequence was before he reached his destination he was penniless. And the beauty of it was the modest stranger was dead broke, too! Every cent of his little hundred dollars had been won by the two strangers whom the contractor had invited to join in their game, as well as the last mule which the latter had to pull his wagons. The contractor made out a bill of sale of everything he had, and the next morning he was missing. He had jumped overboard, and everybody thought he was drowned accidentally. The modest stranger and his two confederates took the mules ashore and sold them at a big figure, and went back to New Orleans well satisfied with their trip. It seems that in the case of this stranger the sharpers had picked up the wrong man. He had "stocked" the cards on them, and won everything they had, and the darky knew, from certain little signs he had seen, that his life was not safe so long as he remained on board that steamer. Tom had a horror of everything that related to gambling, and he wanted to talk about something else.
"This boat is making pretty good time, isn't she?" he said, during a pause in which the darky went back to his bench after his comb and brush.
"Yes, sar. We don't touch anywhere till we get to Memphis, and we shall reach there about——"
"What?" exclaimed Tom.
"Eh? Did you speak, sar?"
"Why, I want to go down the river," gasped Tom, who couldn't believe that his ears were not deceiving him. "Memphis! That's up the river."
"Course it is, sar. And you are going dere as fast as you kin."
"Memphis!" exclaimed Tom.
He couldn't wait for the barber to get through with him, but, jumping out from his hands, with the apron floating all about him, he ran to the nearest window and looked out. He saw the trees dancing swiftly by, but it was not to them that he devoted the most of his attention. The current of the river was what drew his gaze. He took one look at it, at the trees and stumps that covered the surface of the water which the river managed to pick up in the low lands when it was high, and then returned disconsolately to his chair. He didn't want to go to Memphis. It was two thousand miles out of his way, and, besides, there were any number of business men that knew him on the levee.
"You wanted to go to New Orleans, I take it," said the barber.
But Tom was done talking. He wanted to have his hair brushed as quickly as possible, so that he might go to the office and settle with the clerk; so the darky speedily put the finishing touches to it, received twenty cents for his trouble, and Tom hurried out and in a few seconds more was standing in front of the desk. He did not see much room when he got there, for there was a big broad-shouldered man standing in front of the desk, with his arms spread out over it, talking with the clerk; but he stepped back to make space for Tom, and smiled so good-naturedly at him over his bushy whiskers that the boy was satisfied that he had one friend on the boat, if he didn't have another.
"Morning," said he. "Did the sight of that revolver scare you?"
"No, sir. But I got up just in time to find that I am bound up the river. I didn't say which way I wanted to go, and the overseer at the landing called me for the wrong boat."
"Well, you've got to go now that you are started," said the clerk, pulling a book toward him that contained a list of the passengers, "and it will take just five dollars to pay your fare to Memphis."
Very reluctantly Tom pulled out his roll of bills and counted out the five dollars. Then he turned and went out on the guard and seated himself, almost ready to cry with vexation. Presently his room-mate appeared, and without saying so much as "By your leave" he drew a chair close to Tom's side and sat down.
"I say, my young friend, what have you been doing that is contrary to Scribner?"
"I don't understand you, sir," said Tom, starting involuntarily.
"I mean," said the stranger, bending over and whispering the words to Tom, "what have you been doing that is contrary to law?"
This was a question that Tom never expected to have asked him by strangers. Did he carry the marks of the cruel wrong he had done his uncle and Jerry Lamar upon his face so that anybody could read them? The next time he passed a mirror he would look into it and see.
"What is your name?" asked the stranger suddenly.
"Tom Mason."
"Mine is Bolton—Jasper Bolton; and, Tom, I am glad to see you. Put it there. What have you been doing?"
"Not a thing, sir. My uncle has got the money back all right before this time."
"Ah! Money, was it? How much?"
"Five thousand dollars."
"Fivethousand dollars! W-h-e-w! You didn't try to kill anybody in order to get away with it?"
"No, sir. I shot a couple of nigger dogs that were on my trail, but if you knew the circumstances, you would say I did right," said Tom, who had suddenly made up his mind to make a confidant of Mr. Bolton. "It was just this way."
And then Tom straightened around on his seat and faced his new friend and told him his story, being interrupted occasionally with such expressions as "Ah! yes," and "I see," which led him to believe that he was making out a better case against his uncle than he was against himself.
"I don't want you to think that my uncle is in any way to blame for all this," said Tom, in conclusion. "I wanted money, I wanted to be revenged on Jerry Lamar, and so I took it."
"Of course. You ought to have had better sense, seeing that the money would all be your own some day. Do you know what I think you had better do?"
Tom replied that he did not.
"I think you had better go home, tell your uncle just what you have told me, and abide the consequences."
"You don't know my uncle, or you would not advise any such step as that," said Tom, with a sigh which showed that he knew him, and that he was bound to stick to his course. "I am the only relative he has got in the world, but that won't hinder him from saying every time he gets mad at me: 'So you are the lad that tried to reduce me to poverty by stealing five thousand dollars from me!' He will get all over that when he finds that I am not coming home, and then I will go back to him."
"How long do you think it will take him?"
"About a year, maybe two."
"Do you think you can stand it among all these lawless men for that length of time?"
"I've got to. I don't see any other way out of it."
"And you were going to Texas to get another start? Texas is a country in which all men bring up who have made a failure, and you were bound that way."
"Yes, sir. I think I could make another start there."
"Have you any relatives or friends living there?"
"Not a soul," replied Tom, straightening about on his chair and looking down at the river. "By the way," he added, "I want to give you a piece of advice. Those men of whom you won the money last night have threatened to have it all back if they have to kill you."
"Who told you that story?" said Mr. Bolton, with a smile.
"The barber."
"Well, they will have plenty of time to try their hands at it between here and Cincinnati. I told them a funny story about being a cattle-grower somewhere out West. If they try anything with me, they will have their hands full. There are three of them, and I know them all. The clerk has got the money now under lock and key. There goes the breakfast-bell. I will talk to you again after we go in."
Tom was disappointed in more respects than one when he found that his new friend was to leave him at Memphis. With a view of gaining a little time he did not follow him into the dining-hall, but went into the barber shop and proceeded to wash his hands. When they had been dried to his satisfaction, he went out and drew up before the desk.
"Who is that man who talked to me a little while ago?" he asked.
"He's a gambler," was the reply, "and a mighty good one, too. He got into those fellows last night, didn't he?"
That was just what Tom was afraid of. He went out and took his seat at the table, saw Bolton exchange courtesies with the three sharpers who had tried to fleece him the night before, watched him all through the meal, and told himself that if that was the style that men of his class were made of he had a great deal to learn before he could become a gambler. There wasn't a thing about him that could have been found fault with in any circle of gentlemen. In spite of his calling he had given Tom what he regarded as good advice, and he did not know what else he had to say to him.
"There's one thing about it," thought Tom. "He has been around the world a good deal, is sometimes flush to-day and strapped to-morrow, but I'll bet if he was in my fix he would not go back to my uncle. If I am there to take all his abuse, my uncle never will get over flinging his gibes at me; but if I am away where I can't hear them, it won't take him so long to get over it. He can advise me all he's a mind to, but I won't go home."
Breakfast being over, Tom pushed back his chair and went out and seated himself on the guard. The gambler did not put in an appearance for fifteen minutes, for he was not the one to allow his good fortune to take away his appetite. He came at length and bore in his hand a couple of cigars, one of which he offered to Tom. But the latter did not smoke.
"You'll need an overcoat, Tom," said Mr. Bolton, after he had lighted his cigar and placed his heels upon the railing. "The country you have just come from is a summer's day compared to the one where you are going. It's only the latter part of December, and you'll find blizzards out there, I bet you."
"But I can't afford an overcoat, Mr. Bolton. I have only fifty dollars, and it is all my own, too."
"I'll get it for you. I haven't forgotten that I have been in trouble—I may be that way next week; and when I do get that way, I'd feel mighty glad for the simple gift of an overcoat. I'll get you one in Memphis, and at the same time I will tell the clerk to hand you two hundred dollars for your own."
"I can't take it, Mr. Bolton," said Tom, astonished at the proposition.
"Oh, yes, you can. You never may be able to return it to me, but if you ever find one who is suffering, and you have enough and to spare, I want you to hand it to him. That's all the pay I ask. I've owed this for a year, and this is the first chance I have had to square up with the fellow who gave it to me."
"Where is the fellow now?"
"I don't know whether he is living or dead. He was a good fellow, and when I told him what my circumstances were, how I had got in with a party of roughs and been cleaned out of my pile, he put his hand into his pocket and pulled out two hundred dollars. I told him I never could pay him back, and he said if I ever found some other fellow in need just to give him a lift. I've done it, and it squares me. But it's a mean business anyway."
"Why don't you go on with me instead of going up the Ohio River to Cincinnati?"
"To Fort Gibson?" exclaimed Bolton in astonishment.
"I suppose that's where I am going, aint it?"
"Well, you see, Bub, they've got a little document against me up there," said the gambler, with a laugh. "It is a document which the sheriff doesn't hold against me, but which the people do."
"Are they going to lynch you?"
"Anyway, that is what they call it."
"Well, by gracious!" said Tom, settling back in his chair and watching the clouds of smoke that ascended from the gambler's lips. "What sort of men have I become associated with? This man lynched! I would as soon think of my uncle's being lynched."
"So now, you see, I naturally keep away from there," continued Bolton. "But I'll tell you what I'll do. If you will go on to Fort Hamilton, which is as far as navigation is open now, I will give you something that will introduce you to Black Dan. He's a gambler, you know."
"Oh, I can't do anything to assist him in gambling," said Tom. "I don't know one card from another."
"Why, bless you, I don't want you to do anything to assist him in his work. I want you to keep just as far away from cards as you know how," said Mr. Bolton, fumbling with his neck-handkerchief. "Do you see that? It's a kinder pretty pin, isn't it?"
Tom took the ornament and looked it over. It was rather large for a pin, the body of it being formed of some metal which Tom did not recognize, but the diamonds in the middle of it, six of them in all, were what made it so valuable.
"That pin is worth five hundred dollars," said Mr. Bolton. "Put it on; I want to see how it looks on you."
"But what do you want me to do with it?" enquired Tom.
"I want you to take it up and give it to Black Dan when you see him. You are bound to meet him if you go to Fort Hamilton."
"I can't take it. You have already done more for me than I had any right to expect."
"Never mind that," said the gambler, taking the pin from Tom's hand and fixing it in his neck-handkerchief. "You see, he got into a little rucuss a few nights before I came away, and the fellow grabbed him in there and tore three of the diamonds out, and he gave it to me with the request that I would take it to New Orleans and have it repaired for him. There, now, you look like a sport."
"I wish you would take it out," said Tom. "I don't like to have it in there. Somebody might see it and rob me."
"You haven't got any baggage, have you?"
Tom replied that all the clothes he had with him were those he stood in at that moment.
"It won't take long to fix that. Just tell Dan, when you see him, that that thing has been in pawn more times than I can remember, but somehow I always managed to work around and get the money. By the way, he owes me ten dollars. He didn't give me money enough. What those diamonds are set in I don't know. Dan won the mine in which the stuff was found and had the pin made from some of the quartz; but the diamonds didn't suit him, and so he sent them by me to New Orleans. But, bless you, in two months from that time he was as poor as Job's turkey."
"Did he lose the mine?"
"Yes, and all the money he had besides. Perhaps that pin will hit him again. Dan is a good fellow. He never went back on a man who was down on his luck."
"I don't see why you don't go back to him," ventured Tom.
"Well, you see, there's that document that the people hold against me," said the gambler, with a laugh. "I think I had better stay here until that has had time to wear off. Yes, you go on to Fort Hamilton, and there you will make a strike. I don't know anybody in Fort Gibson."
"What do you suppose they will set me to doing?"
"Oh, perhaps they will grub-stake you and send you into the mountains to hunt up a gold mine. Many a nice fellow has got a start in that way, and is now numbered among the millionnaires. You'll get a start if you strike Black Dan."
"I hope you will take this pin and wear it while you are on the boat," said Tom; for he had already made up his mind to go on to Fort Hamilton and seek an interview with Black Dan if he were still alive. "I wish I had some baggage in which I could hide it away."
Without saying a word Mr. Bolton took the pin, adjusted it into his shirt-front, and once more placed his heels on the railing. The longer Tom talked with him the more he admired him, and the more he detested his avocation. The idea that such a man as that should deliberately prey upon the cupidity of his neighbors! But, then, if he was a gambler, he was the only man in the whole lot of passengers who had taken to him. There were a number of finely dressed planters who sat at the table with him, but not one had had a word to say to him, and would have allowed him to go on his way to ruin if it had not been for this solitary man. And how he had trusted him! Was there a planter on the boat who would have given him so large an amount of money on so short an acquaintance?
"There's one thing about it," said Tom, as he thrust his hands deep into his pockets. "If I make a success of this thing, I shall not have any planters, who have already made their mark in the world, to thank for my salvation."
The sight of the revolver that was placed upon the stool at the head of his bed did not startle Tom as it had done on a former occasion. Answering the cheerful "Morning" of the sleepy gambler he made a trip to the barber shop to get a "shake up," for Tom had not yet had opportunity to buy a brush and comb, and then went out and seated himself on the guards. He felt more lonely now than he had at any time since leaving home. Memphis was only forty miles away,—he had heard one of the customers in the barber shop make that remark,—and he knew that when he got there the last friend he had on earth was to take leave of him.
"How will I ever get along without him?" was the question he kept constantly asking himself. "Two hundred dollars and a good overcoat besides. I think I shall need the overcoat, for if the weather is as cold as it is this morning, I should prefer to hug the fire."
While he was thinking about it, Mr. Bolton came out and beckoned to him. Tom followed him into the office, and when the blinds had all been closed, the clerk unlocked his safe and took out three official envelopes; for the thirty thousand made so large a roll of money that he could not get the bills all into one. Selecting one of the envelopes, he tore it open, counted out two hundred dollars from it, placed it in a second envelope, sealed it with a blow of his fist upon the counter, and placed Tom's name upon it.
"That's yours, Tom," said he. "I need hardly tell you to be careful of it. When you leave the boat at Fort Gibson, the clerk will give it to you."
"Must I change boats again?" asked Tom.
"Yes, for this boat draws so much water that she can't run any farther," said the clerk. "I'll keep an eye on you and see that you get through all right."
Mr. Bolton then proceeded to count out fifty dollars, which he pushed over toward the clerk, after which he put the envelopes in the inside pocket of his vest and buttoned his coat over them.
"What's this for?" enquired the clerk.
"That's to pay you for your trouble," said the gambler. "Now, the less I hear about this money the better I shall like it. Let us out."
"What have you been doing to him?" enquired the clerk, after he had let Mr. Bolton out of the side door on to the guards, locked Tom's money in the safe, and raised the blind which gave entrance into the cabin. "Are you any relative of his?"
"No. I never saw him until I came on board this boat. I told him my story and that led him to give me some money. The barber says he has travelled over this road a good many times."
"Oh, I know him. This isn't the first fifty dollars I have made out of him. He has a different name every time. This time it is Jasper Bolton. Why, two years ago he came aboard of us, clean shaved as any farmer and dressed like one, and had charge of twenty-five barrels of dried apples which he was taking to Memphis. Of course he got on to a game before he had been here a great while, and cleaned everyone out."
"I wish he wouldn't gamble," said Tom. "He has the manners of a gentleman."
"Oh, everyone has to make his living at something," said the clerk, with a laugh. "And if he can't make his any easier than at gambling, why, I say let him keep at it. But you ought to have seen him with those dried apples! He talked them up so big among the passengers that he sold them for double the sum that I could have bought the same apples for. Oh, he's a good one!"
"I shouldn't think he would want to carry that money in his vest pocket," said Tom. "How easy it would be for somebody to knock him down and take it away from him."
"He's got a big revolver in his pocket," said the clerk.
During the rest of the trip to Memphis Tom stuck as close to Mr. Bolton's side as if he had grown there, and listened to some good advice, which, had he seen fit to follow it, would have made his progress through life a comparatively smooth one; but Tom could not get over the "gibes" which he knew his uncle would throw at him as often as he got angry. He said that was all that kept him from going back, and the gambler finally gave it up in despair.
On arriving at Memphis Mr. Bolton picked up his valise, bade good-by to some of the officers whose acquaintance he had made on the way up, and stepped ashore with Tom at his heels. The latter kept a close watch over the sharpers, and was not a little annoyed to find that they were going ashore, too. He called Mr. Bolton's attention to it, but all he got was a smile in return; and now, when Tom got a good view of it, he told himself that there was more self-confidence in that smile than he had given him credit for. Indeed, Mr. Bolton, with his overcoat on and a valise in his hand, and the free, swinging stride with which he stepped off, looked more like a prosperous business man than he did like anything else.
Mr. Bolton was evidently acquainted in Memphis, for he passed three or four clothing-houses, and finally turned into an extra fine one, where he said he wanted to see the longest and thickest overcoat they had. His boy was going away into a country where blizzards were plenty, and he desired to see him well protected before he went. The first garment that was handed down was a fit, and Tom stood by with it on, and saw Mr. Bolton buy another valise, an extra suit of sheep's-gray clothing, a couple of blue flannel shirts, and a number of other little things which Tom would not have thought of. When the articles had been paid for, Mr. Bolton took off his pin, wrapped it in a little piece of paper, and thrust it into one corner of the valise, then locked it and handed the key to Tom. Then he turned and walked out.
"Mr. Bolton," said Tom, hurrying after him, "I never can repay——"
"Oh, yes, you can. Whenever you meet a fellow that is hard up, and you can afford it, just hand him a dollar or two, and that will make it all right. Now, be careful of yourself on the way up. You'll find some lawless men there who won't hesitate to take the last cent you've got. Remember me to Black Dan, and don't forget what I have told you. Put it there. So long."
Tom wanted to say something else, but before he could form the words his hand had been squeezed for a moment and he was alone. He watched the man and then saw him disappear among the crowd.
"I wonder if anybody ever had such luck as this," said Tom, as he turned his face slowly toward the levee. "I almost dread to think of it, for fear that there is worse luck in store for me."
He was alone now, at all events.
Tom Mason slowly made his way back to Wolf River, the place where theJennie Junewas discharging her cargo, locked his baggage in his state room, and seated himself on the guard to watch the deck-hands and think of Mr. Bolton, if that was his name. Several passengers got off at Memphis, and several more got on to take their places, but from the time the boat rounded to go up the Arkansas River there was no one who had anything to say to him, if we except the clerk and the barber.
Tom thought he had never seen so lonely and desolate a country as that through which the Arkansas flowed. Woods were to be seen in every direction, and here and there a small clearing with a negro or two scattered about to show that somebody lived there. The boat stopped a few times to let off a passenger where there was not the sign of a fence anywhere around, but she never got out a line for them. She awoke the echoes far and near with her hoarse whistle, shoved out a gang-plank, a couple of deck-hands ran ashore with the passenger's baggage, and then she went on her way up the river. The town of Little Rock was situated in the woods, and above that it was all wilderness until Fort Gibson was reached. TheJennie Junedid not tie up alongside the levee, but ran on till she came to a little boat with steam up, the only boat there was at the landing, and made fast alongside of her, keeping her wheels moving all the while, so as not to pull her away from her moorings.
"Have I got to change to that thing?" said Tom.
"Yes, sir," replied the clerk, who hurried past him with a book in his hands and a pencil behind his ear. "She's the only one who can go above here at all. Plenty of room on her. I'll be ready to go with you in ten minutes."
With his baggage between his feet Tom sat down to await the return of the clerk, and to make a mental estimate of the vessel that was to take him 150 miles further on his journey. He saw that she had no Texas on board of her, her pilot-house being seated on the roof of the cabin. Her engines were small, being no doubt reduced in weight to make her carrying capacity equal to passing over the shoal places she would find before her, her spars were ready for use, and she had no roof over her main-deck. She could get along very well in dry weather, but what would she do when a rain-storm came up? Tom noticed that a good portion of baggage was laid out on the boiler deck, and no doubt some of the passengers slept there; and consequently it would be a dangerous piece of business for any of the wakeful parties to attempt to promenade the main-deck with a cigar, as he had often seen done on theJennie June.
"I hope we shall have pleasant weather all the way to Fort Hamilton," thought Tom, as he rested his elbows on the railing and proceeded to size up the passengers. "I don't see how they can get all those men into the cabin."
Almost the first thing Tom saw, curled up before some luggage they were watching, were a couple of Indians, taking good care to keep out of the way of the swiftly moving deck-hands. But Indians he could see any day by simply riding into his uncle's woods; but who were those long-legged, lank fellows who took just as much care of their rifles and knapsacks as the Indians did? They were hunters, and Tom could not resist the temptation to turn his eyes away from the fore-castle back to the main-deck to take a second survey of the motley group of men he had seen there. They were cowboys all of them, and their clothing, especially their hats and boots, were as nearly perfect as money could buy. They were all young fellows, from twenty to twenty-five years of age, and wore their six-shooters strapped around them with as much ease as though they had been born with them on. The hunters were a lazy set, and were willing to work for the furs they captured, while the cowboys were willing to work for a salary, and they earned every dollar of it, too.
"That's what I am going to be," thought Tom. "I'll have a horse and lariat, and I'll soon learn to ride with the best of them. I don't see what Mr. Bolton could have been thinking of when he bought me this sheep's-gray suit. None of the cowboys has them on."
While Tom was busy in watching the cowboys and telling himself that almost any one of them looked ready for a fight, the clerk came up, and, following a motion of his hand, Tom stepped after him into the office. He unlocked the safe and, taking out Tom's roll of money, handed it to him, saying:
"I have spoken to the clerk about you, and he promises that he will give you a nice room with a lower bunk. Good luck to you."
Tom immediately tore open the end of the envelope and began running his fingers over the bills. He wanted to see if they were all there.
"I don't want anything," said the clerk. "I wouldn't take anything if you were to offer it to me. Come on and let's go and see the clerk. I'm awful busy when we are making a landing."
Tom at once picked up his valise and fell in behind the clerk, who led the way on board theIvanhoe. By dodging in the rear of some of the deck-hands he managed to get on board without being knocked overboard, and soon found himself standing beside a man who was shouting out some orders to which nobody paid the least attention. He changed his pencil from his hand into his mouth long enough to shake Tom by the hand.
"Go up on the boiler deck and set down there till I come," said he. "I'll attend to your case in just no time at all."
Seeing that no one else paid any attention to him, Tom ascended the stairs and entered the cabin. He wanted to see what sort of a looking place it was, but almost recoiled when he opened the door, for it was filled so full of stale tobacco smoke that he did not see how anybody could live in it. But he knew that he would have to become accustomed to that smell before he was on the prairie very long, so he kept on and finally found a chair at the further end of the cabin. There was no one near him except a man whose arms were outstretched on the table and his face buried in his hands; and when Tom approached, he raised his head and exhibited a countenance that was literally burning up with fever. He was dressed like a cowboy, but there didn't seem to be anyone to attend to his wants.
"I say," said he, in a faint voice, "I wish you would be good enough to bring me a glass of water."
"Certainly I will," replied Tom, rising and placing his valise in the chair.
He did not know where to go to get it, but as he turned into a little gangway which he thought ought to lead to the galley he encountered a darky, and to him he made known his wants—not for a glass, but for a whole pitcher of ice-water. With these in his hand he went back to the sick man, who, waving away the glass of water which Tom poured out for him, seized the pitcher and drained it nearly dry. Then he set it down, and with a sigh of relief settled back in his chair.
"I have been waiting for an hour for someone to hand me a drink of water, but I didn't have strength enough to go after it," said he, with a smile. "I knew where it was—well, it stayed there."
"Fever and ague?" said Tom.
"Buck ague," responded the man. "I always get it whenever I come to this country."
"I should think you would keep away from it, then."
"Well, I had to come with a herd of cattle my employer was getting up for the government, and that's the way I got it. Ah! here comes one of those lazy kids that ought to have been here and tended to me," added the man, as one of those handsome cowboys that Tom had noticed on the main-deck rapidly approached the table. When he saw the pitcher of ice-water, he stopped and gazed in consternation.
"Somebody's been fixing you!" said he. "He's been taking calomel," he explained to Tom.
"He never said a word to me about it," faltered Tom, who thought he was in a fair prospect of getting himself into trouble.
"You know the doctor said you must be careful not to drink any water after taking that powder," continued the cowboy, looking at Tom as if he had a mind to throw the pitcher at his head.
"The kid is all right," said the sick man, "and I'll stay by him. Now, if you will go away and let me alone, I'll go to sleep."
He stretched himself out on the table once more, and the cowboy went off to consult with his chum. In a few minutes he came back with him, and all they could do was to try to arouse the man to ask him what he thought they had better do for him; but to such interruptions he always replied: "No, no, boys! I'm going to sleep now."
"You ought not to have given that man so much water," said one of the cowboys. "But after all it's our own fault, Hank. One of us ought to have stayed here with him."
Tom Mason did not know what to say, and neither was he able to account for so much forbearance on the part of the cowboys. He looked to see them pull their revolvers; but instead of doing that they drew chairs up beside their sick comrade and waited to see what was going to happen to him, and Tom, filled with remorse, went out on the boiler-deck. Just then theJennie June'sbell rang, the lines and gang-planks were hauled in, and she backed down the river to her moorings. Then theIvanhoe'sbell was struck, and instantly a great hubbub arose among the passengers. Hands were shaken, farewells were said, and in ten minutes more the little boat was ploughing her way up the river. Tom had an opportunity to sit down after that. He pulled a chair up to the railing and sat there for ten minutes awaiting the arrival of the clerk, and wondering how calomel would operate on that man after he had drank ice-water on top of it; and consequently he did not feel very safe when he saw the two cowboys approaching him. He had left them to watch over the sick man, and he did not like to have them follow him up.
"Look here, pard," said the foremost. "You've got the only lower bunk there is in the cabin, and we want to see if you won't give it up to that sick boss of ours. The man now occupying the upper bunk has offered to give it up, but we don't want it."
"You can have it and welcome," said Tom. "I assure you that my giving him a drink was all a mistake. I offered him a glass of water, but he wouldn't take it."
Having given up his bed, Tom considered that he had done all that a boy could do to make amends for what he had done. He gave the clerk his money to lock in the safe, and when night came found a pallet made up for him in a remote corner of the cabin. All the report he could get regarding the sick man was that he was sleeping soundly, and had fought his attendants so hard that it was all they could do to take his clothes off.
"I really believe he is coming around all right," said one of the cowboys. "When he gets mad and reaches for his revolver, it's a mighty good sign."
"Did he draw it on either of you?" asked Tom, in alarm.
"Oh, no; for we took good pains to keep it out of his way."
When Tom got up the next morning (there was no barber shop on this boat, and so he had to comb his hair in the wash-room), and went out on the boiler-deck to get his breath of fresh air, he found three men out there sitting in their chairs, and paying no heed to the cold wind that was blowing. The men who slept there had gone into a warmer climate, down in the neighborhood of the boilers, but their baggage was scattered around just as they had left it. Tom took just one look around, and, seeing how desolate things were, was about to retreat to the cabin, when one of the men happened to spy him.
"My gracious, there's my doctor!" said he cheerfully. "Come here, old man, and give us your flipper."
"Why, I didn't expect to find you out here to-day," said Tom, walking up and taking the outstretched hand of his sick man. "My medicine did you some good, didn't it? But you ought not to sit out here without something around you. You will take cold."
The sick man laughed heartily.
"Why, doctor, I am as sound as a dollar. That water you gave me hit the spot, for it set me to perspiring like a trip-hammer. I knew I was all right as soon as I could sleep. Draw a chair up and sit down. You won't take cold while you have that overcoat on."
Tom drew a chair up alongside the sick man, one of the cowboys moving aside to make room for him, and deposited his feet on the railing. The wind cut severely, and he would have felt a good deal more cheerful beside the cabin fire.
"Where be you a-travelling to, doctor?" said the sick man; for Tom didn't know what else to call him. "If you are going out our way, we may be able to be of some use to you."
"I am going to Fort Hamilton," said Tom. "How much farther I don't know until I have seen Black Dan."
It was curious what a sensation that name occasioned in that little company. They simply looked at each other and smiled, and then settled down and sought new places for their feet on the railing. It was evident that they took Black Dan for a relative of his.
"Have you got much to do with him?" asked one of the cowboys.
"I never saw him," Tom hastened to say. "I got his name from a Mr. Bolton, who gave me a very valuable pin to return to him. He got into a fight once and had some diamonds torn out of it."
"Yes, Dan has been in a good many fights," said the sick man. "He aint the fellow he used to be."
"I—I hope he didn't get the worst of any of them."
"Well—yes. He rather got the worst of the last fight he was in. He got into a row with three fellows,—cowboys, I knew them well,—and although he managed to get away with all of them, one shot him through the arm above the elbow, and it had to be taken off."
"Amputated?" said Tom.
"Yes, I suppose that's what you call it. Then Dan took to drink and lost everything he had."
"Why should the loss of his arm send him to drink?"
"He couldn't shuffle the cards any more. He doesn't do anything now but get drunk in the morning and then crawl into some hole and sleep it off; and he has seen the time when he was worth a million."
Tom Mason was sorry to hear all this. He did not know what he was going to do now that Black Dan was in no condition to help him. Who was he going to get to grub-stake him and send him into the mountains to find a gold mine? He knew that things were pretty high in Fort Hamilton, and his two hundred dollars would not last him a great while.
"For a fellow who has never seen Black Dan you appear to take his downfall very much to heart," said the sick man.
"Yes, I do. I was depending on him to see me through. I have a very nice pin which is his own private property, and which I have been commissioned to give into his keeping."
"Have you got it with you?"
Tom replied that the pin was in his baggage, and arose and went after it. In a few minutes he returned with it in his hand, and was not a little surprised at the exclamations of astonishment that arose from his three friends when they handled the ornament, and passed it from one to the other and speculated upon its merits.
"Five hundred dollars!" said "Boss" Kelley, who by virtue of his position took it upon himself to act as judge when matters came before them that were somewhat hard to be decided. Tom had noticed one thing: that his word was law to the two cowboys, and that when he spoke the other two remained silent. "That's a heap of money to go into Dan's hands. How long do you suppose it will last him?"
"Until he can get to Cale's bar," said Hank Monroe.
"And no longer," chimed in Frank Stanley.
"It's his and he ought to have it, if we can find him when he is sober," said Kelley. "Now, doctor, how came you by it in the first place?"
"I am plain Tom Mason, and I don't like to answer to any other name," said the latter; and with the words he settled back in his chair and told the history of his meeting with Mr. Bolton. He kept back nothing. He knew he could tell it just as it happened, for these men had more or less to do with gamblers, and knew the motives which influenced them. When he got through, he found that he had them very much interested.
"Why, you haven't done anything," said Stanley. "Go home and tell your uncle just what you have told us, and take the racket."
"Boys, I know my uncle," said Tom, shaking his head.
"Perhaps he had better go on," said Kelley. "His uncle will throw things at him whenever he gets mad, and it's better to go away and let him get over that. Now, Tom, if you are willing to take help from us——"
"I am willing to take help from anybody," said Tom. "I am a stranger in a strange place, and don't know what move to make first."
"Very good," said Kelley, extending his hand to be shaken by Tom, a proceeding in which he was imitated by both his friends. "That is a cowboy's grip, and whenever you get it out here, you may know that you are among friends. Tom is one of our party now."
Tom Mason told himself that never had a runaway been blessed with such luck. No sooner did one man on whom he was depending for assistance turn out to be unreliable than another one came to take his place. For once he had forgotten himself and told the truth, and the truth was mighty and would prevail. After that he had nothing to do during the rest of his trip but sit alongside one of his companions and talk of cattle-herding and speculate concerning the future of Black Dan. All he could learn regarding the latter was that he was going to the bad as rapidly as he could.
"All gamblers come to that sooner or later," said Kelley. "All the money I have got was made honestly. I don't know one card from another."
All this was very encouraging. If a man of Kelley's stamp—Tom knew he was well off, for he had heard him talk of the thousand head of cattle which he was holding fast to until the government came up to his price—could live all these years on the prairie and never learn one card from another, it was certain that another might do so.
At last, after innumerable discouragements, during which her spars had been used until they were all mud, and it seemed impossible for her to proceed a foot farther, theIvanhoewhistled for Fort Hamilton. Then Tom saw what had given it that name. A short distance above the little circle of houses that always spring up around a fortification, crowning a hill, was a stockade from which floated the Stars and Stripes, and among the crowd of loungers who assembled to see the boat come in were several men dressed in the uniform of the army.
As soon as the landing was made Tom went to the clerk to get the money he had locked in the safe, and made his way down the stairs to find Kelley and Stanley waiting for him. They all had horses, with their extra wardrobe tied up in ponchos behind their saddles, but they had given them over to one of their number with orders to take them to the Eldorado, the hotel which all the best men in that country patronized.
"Now, we want to find out what's left of Black Dan," said Kelley. "I think we will get on his trail somewhere up here."
It was a muddy, miry place in which Tom Mason now found himself, for it had been raining some there and Fort Hamilton was not blessed with a system of drainage. There were no sidewalks except in front of the various saloons and stores they passed, and half the way they walked through mud that was more than ankle deep. It was astonishing to him to notice how many people there were on the streets who recognized his companions. It was "Howdy, Mr. Kelley?" and "Hello, Stanley!" or "Hello, Arrow-foot!" until Tom might be pardoned for thinking that his two friends were raised right in town instead of coming from a country a hundred miles away.
"Arrow-foot?" said he. "That's one thing I do not understand."
"Well, you see that when my employer first came to this country and wanted a name for his cattle, he picked up on his piece of land, close by the spot where his dugout is now located, a small piece of clay plainly marked with an arrow-foot. There was the stem of the arrow all complete, and so he named his cattle 'Arrow-foot.' Almost everybody out here is known by the brand his cattle wears."
"But how do they come to call you 'Mr.' Kelley?"
"I don't know, unless it is because I don't drink or gamble with them, and have a happy faculty for settling all the rows."
Presently Mr. Kelley made his way into a spacious saloon that occupied one end of the block. It had evidently been built by someone who had an idea of refinement about him, for its verandas were spacious, the windows came down to the floor, and there was a gilded sign over the door. Inside the room was large and airy, with a bar on one side and a number of tables extending away to the other end. It was quiet enough now in the daytime, but when Tom heard the noise that came from it after the lamps were lighted, he thought pandemonium had broken loose.
"Howdy, Mr. Kelley? Denominate your poison," said the man behind the counter, extending a bottle toward him with one hand and reaching out the other to be shaken. "Got back safe and sound, didn't you?"
"I don't take any of that stuff, and you ought to know better than to ask me. I got back all right with the exception of the dumb ague, which took me just as I got ready to leave Fort Gibson. Have you seen Black Dan lately?"
"You're right, I have," said the man, frowning fiercely. "Do you see that?" he added, taking out from under his counter a revolver which was cocked and ready to be used when it was drawn. "I am going to keep that just as it is and show it to him when he wakes up. Because he used to own this house is no reason why he should pull a pistol on me!"
"Did he draw it on you?" asked Tom, forgetting where he was in the excitement of the moment.
"I should say he did, kid, and Mose, there, was just in time to stop him. I hope you have come to take him East, for I don't want him around here any longer. It is all I can do to keep him from getting into a fight with somebody, and the first thing you know he will pick up the wrong man. You took him out, Mose. Do you know where he is?"
"Yes; he's out there," said Mose, motioning one way with his thumb and another way with his head. "I can find him."
Mose made an effort to get on his feet, but reeled considerably, and would have fallen back in his chair if Mr. Kelley had not caught him and placed him steadily on his feet. When he was fairly up, he was all right, and made his way out of the house and around the corner, closely followed by Mr. Kelley and Tom. Presently he stopped, and curled up behind a water-butt, the mud spattered thick on his torn clothing, his empty holster and the stump of his crippled arm thrown out recklessly by his side, lay all that was left of Black Dan. Tom saw in a minute where he had got his cognomen. His complexion was swarthy and his hair and whiskers were as black as midnight, but for all that he had been a very handsome man. He was dead drunk, and Mr. Kelley saw that all attempts to arouse him would be useless.
"Why didn't you put him in a bed?" asked Tom, in accents of disgust.
"He wouldn't stay there," replied Mose. "That is the only place he will stay, and there is where we take him as soon as he shows any desire to go to sleep."
"Let's go away," said Tom. "I'll never drink a drop of whiskey as long as I live."
"It would be useless to try to awake him," said Mr. Kelley. "Mose, you tell him that as soon as he wakes up we want to see him down to the Eldorado, where we are stopping. We want to see him particularly. You can remember that much, can't you?"
"I can, sir," replied Mose, hastily pocketing the dollar which Kelley thrust out to him. "I'll send him down as soon as he comes to himself."
"It always comes hard for one to see a man done up in that style," said Mr. Kelley, as he and Tom bent their steps toward the Eldorado. "It makes me hate whiskey worse than I did before."
Tom had seen so much of the little town of Fort Hamilton that he had some doubts about going to the Eldorado. Their little interview with Black Dan, if such it could be called, had taken all the conversation out of them; but when they entered the living-room of the hotel, and saw no semblance of a bar, and the men who were playing cards were doing it for fun, and not for money, and there was no sign of a drunken man around, his spirits rose wonderfully, and he walked up and placed his valise on the counter.
"Ah! here you are," exclaimed Stanley, coming up at that moment. "I wasn't able to get a room with four beds in it, but I have engaged one end of the dining-room, so that we can all be together to-night."
"Full up to the top notch," said the clerk. "Put it there, Mr. Kelley. How are you, Arrow-foot? This young man I don't remember to have seen before, but all the same I am glad to meet him."
"Yes, he's a tender-foot, and we are taking him out to have the boss grub-stake him."
"Ah! that's your business, is it? Fine business that. You may make a strike some day and come back and buy us all out. You're going right in the country for one, for there's a nugget worth eight thousand dollars for you to pitch on to."
"Yes, Elam Storm's nugget," said Stanley. "I hope to goodness you'll get it, for then we shall quit hearing so much about it."
"Oh, it's there, for one with such a reputation as that—why, man alive, it extends through twenty years! And the Red Ghost, too; you want to steer clear of him."
Tom laughed and said he would do his best to follow the clerk's advice. He had heard of Elam Storm's nugget, had even found himself thinking of it when awake, and dreaming about it when asleep. He knew that his chances for digging it up were rather slim, for he did not suppose that the man who had hid it had any idea that it would be unearthed by anyone save himself; but if he should happen to strike it with one blow of his pick! Wouldn't he be in town? He could then write back to his uncle that he had made more than the sum he had temporarily lost, made it by the sweat of his brow, and he was sure that the next letter he received from his uncle would be one telling him to come back home, and all would be forgiven. But the Red Ghost! Tom did not know what to think about him. He had been seen, never in broad daylight, and he was a terrible thing to look at. He roamed about after nightfall, tearing the mules and trampling the teamsters to death, and the worst of it was he was always to be found somewhere near the place where the nugget was supposed to be hid. Stanley once had a partner that had been done to death, and even Mr. Kelley's face grew solemn whenever he spoke of him. That was the only thing that made Tom doubtful about taking a grub-stake.
The dinner-bell rang while they were talking, and when the meal was ended Tom went out with the two cowboys to look at a horse that Stanley had found for him in the morning. They were gone about two hours, and when they came back, Tom told himself that he was a cowboy at last; a horse, saddle, and bridle were waiting for him at the stable, and the poncho which he carried slung over his arm was roomy enough for his extra baggage. The first thing that attracted Stanley's notice was a strange man talking to Mr. Kelley. The stump of his arm proclaimed who he was.
"It's Black Dan," said he. "Now, Tom, let's see how much your temperance principles will amount to."
Tom was startled, as well he might be, to know that he had it in his power to help a man who, in his palmy days, held an influence in Fort Hamilton second only to the commander of the station. He gazed steadily at him a moment, then threw his poncho on the table, asked the clerk for his valise, and took from it the pin Mr. Bolton had given him, and with this in his hand he approached Black Dan, while with a delicacy of feeling that some people who occupy prouder stations might have envied the cowboys turned toward the window. Hearing from the barkeeper that the man who wanted to see him was a "top-notch fellow," Dan had washed his face and brushed his hair, and made other efforts to improve himself. His holster was filled this time, so it showed that he was in a situation to defend himself. Mr. Kelley introduced Tom, and then moved away.
"How do you do, sir?" said Dan, gazing hard at Tom's face and trying to recollect where he had seen him before. "You have got the advantage of me."
"I never saw you before, and I am sorry to find you this way," said Tom, trying to keep up his courage. "I want you to look at this pin and tell me if you ever saw it before."
Tom unwrapped the pin and placed it in Dan's hands. The latter took it in surprise, and finally the wondering scowl his face had assumed gave way to an entirely different expression, and he sat for five minutes, turning the pin over in his hand, and doubtless harassed by gloomy reflections. When he gave that pin to the one from whom Tom had received it, he was worth half a million dollars.
"What was Bradshaw doing when he gave you the pin?" said he.
"He told me his name was Bolton," said Tom. "He had been doing some gambling, and, finding out from me that I was coming up here, he gave me the pin with a request that I should give it to you."
"You haven't come out here with any intention of going into this business, have you?"
"What, gambling? Not much I haven't. I think I have seen enough to keep me away from gambling forever. I'm going to get a grub-stake and go into the mountains. I think I can do better there."
"You are an honest boy, and I wish I could give you something for it. One short year ago I could have sent you to the mountains with some prospects of success; but now——" Dan held up his crippled arm.
"I should think that would drive you from gambling forever," said Tom earnestly. "You have taken to drink, and that is just as bad."
"Well, seeing that you are going to preach, I guess I'll go. Shake. So long."
Before Tom could think of another word to say Dan had squeezed his hand and was on his way to the door, walking along with his hat pulled over his eyes, as if he didn't want to see anybody. When he reached the street, he simply touched his forehead to some people he met, and kept on his way to the saloon. Tom stepped to the window and saw him go in at the door.
"Well, what success did you meet with?" said Stanley.
"I didn't meet with any success at all," said Tom, gazing helplessly out at the muddy street. "He said if I was going to preach he'd go. He seemed to think I had come out here to go into his business, but I told him I had seen enough to keep me away from cards forever."
"Well, I declare!" said Mr. Kelley. "It is the greatest wonder in the world he didn't knock you down. He never lets anybody say anything against cards in his hearing. You have had a narrow escape."
As Tom sat there with his three friends and talked over the incidents of Dan's past life he grew more frightened than ever, and thanked his lucky stars that he didn't know more about it before he held his interview with the gambler. Tom had told him that he had taken to drink, which was as bad as gambling, and Dan had been known to floor a man who had said as much to him. That night, while Tom was lying on his bed and trying to go to sleep, he heard something more of the pin. High and loud above all the hubbub that arose on the streets came the chorus of a song in which one voice far outled the others. It was Dan's voice, and proved that the pin had been pawned for something besides water. He looked over toward Monroe, and saw that the latter was wide awake and looking at him.
"They're going it, aint they?" Tom whispered.
"You're right, they are. Poor Dan! You have done what you could for him." And with the words he rolled over and prepared to go to sleep.
The next morning everything was quiet enough. The drunkards had been put into the calaboose by the soldiers, and the others had gone to bed to sleep it off. Tom wanted to know what had become of Dan, but nobody said anything about him, and from that time his name was dropped. They ate their breakfast in haste, paid their bills, and in ten minutes more Tom was on his way in search of a grub-stake.
"Oh, certainly you'll get it," said Monroe, who rode beside him. "That is the way the bosses always treat a tender-foot when they haven't anything in particular for him to do. Some of our best known men have got their start that way."
"I should think that some of the men you trust that way would run off when they find something good," said Tom.
"Why, bless you, they can't take their find with them. They've got to stay and work it. I did hear of a fellow who found a lot of iron pyrites, and filled his pockets with them. He ran away, making the best course he could for Denver, and when he was found, his pockets might just as well have been filled with clay."
"Dead?" said Tom.
"Yes; and he was two hundred miles from where he belonged."
"And his find didn't amount to anything?"
"No. It is a brassy substance and looks very much like the precious metal, but you need a mine to work it."
"What do you suppose killed him?"
"Don't know. Some people suppose that his mule got away from him, and ran away with his outfit. At any rate, there was nothing near him, and the fellow got desperate and died from exhaustion. Oh, it's one of the things that will happen out here."
"That's a queer way to do," said Tom musingly. "By the way, I haven't got any revolver."
"Oh, the old man will give you a pop. You will get everything you need to last you two or three months. While that lasts, you are expected to do some hunting; when it begins to give out, you want to come home."
"But how will I know the way?"
"The mule will bring you. He will stay there about two months,—that is, if he doesn't get frightened,—and when he gets tired of staying, he will come home, and you had better come, too."
It was by such talks as this that Tom learned a great deal about the business upon which he was soon to embark. It never occurred to him that he was to engage in any other business. Cowboys—or, as they were called in those days, "vaqueros"—were not as plenty as they became a few years later, and if a ranchman could be found who thought him able to make his living by riding for a stake, well and good. He certainly would not run away with his pockets filled with pyrites. He expected to make a good many blunders, but Tom told himself he was used to that. What he thought of more than anything else was that nugget worth eight thousand dollars.
They camped that night with a party of emigrants, and for the first time Tom had the luxury of sleeping out of doors; but the appetite he brought to the breakfast-table with him amply made amends for that. In all the hunting excursions he had enjoyed for a week or more on his uncle's plantation he always had a darky along to build a shelter for him, cook his breakfast for him, and do any other work that happened to be necessary, and all he had to do was to ride to and from his hunting-grounds and shoot the turkeys after he got there. The next night they drew up before a dugout, the first one he had ever seen. The only thing that pointed out its place of location were a couple of hay-racks, which had been torn to pieces by mules. There was not a human being in sight, not even standing in the door to bid them welcome.
"Boys, I am glad my trip is done," said Mr. Kelley, as he threw himself from his horse, relieving him of his bridle as he did so. "Tom, what do you think of your new home?"
"Why, there is nobody around here," said Tom, gazing on all sides of him.
"Oh, they are around here somewhere. It isn't dark yet, and we'll get in and light a fire for them. They are out somewhere, looking for some lost cattle. We left two hundred head here when we went to the mountains."
"To the mountains?" repeated Tom.
"Yes. I tell you we want to get away from here when the blizzards fly, for there isn't a thing to shelter us. I don't expect we shall find more than fifty head of those cattle, if we do that."
"What do you suppose will become of them?"
"They will be dead, of course. You see, when cattle are loose on the prairie and a storm comes up, and they can't stand it any longer, they start and travel in the same way the storm is going; and as the storm lasts from three to four days, you can readily imagine that they must get exhausted before they stop. When the hailstones come down as large as hens' eggs, you can——"
"Haw, haw!" laughed Monroe.
"Well, as large as pigeons' eggs," said Kelley, "and I won't come down another grain in weight. Why, an army officer went by here two years ago hunting for his thirty-five mules that had been stampeded by a storm, and when he found them, there were only four that were able to stand alone. Oh, you get out, Monroe! You haven't seen any blizzard yet. Now, let's go in and get some supper."
"But what makes the mules run so? Why don't they go under shelter?" added Tom, as he picked up his poncho and saddle and followed the man inside the house.
"There was just where they were going—for shelter. There aint a piece of timber within twenty-five miles of this place to shelter a rabbit."
"Then what do you use for fuel?"
"Buffalo chips. There, Tom, put your plunder in there and set down and look around you. You wouldn't think the man who owns this place was worth two hundred thousand, but it is a fact."
"Why doesn't he buy a better piece of ground, then? I wouldn't be so far from shelter if I were in his place."
"Buy it? He doesn't own this property. Every acre of ground that he occupies is Congress land."
"But I'll bet you he wouldn't give it up," said Stanley. "I'd like to see somebody come here and say this is his."
"Then you will never see it. Mr. Parsons says that all this property will be thrown open to settlement some day, and then he and the rest of the squatters will have to go farther West. But, laws! he's got money enough, and he began life, Tom, just as you are going to—by taking a grub-stake and starting for the mountains. But come on, boys, and let's get supper. Stanley, just roll out the rest of that bacon and hard-tack, and, Monroe, you go outside and throw in some buffalo chips."
Tom, weary with his long ride, made up his bunk, then threw himself upon it and looked about him.