"He looked like a desperado, certainly," said Joe, "but appearances
are deceitful.  It's all swagger and no real courage."

"Well, what shall we do now, Joe?"

"Lie down again and go to sleep."

"The man's gone off without his revolver."

"He'll be back for it within a day or two.  We shall be sure to fall
in with him again.  I shan't lose my sleep worrying about him."

The two threw themselves once more on the ground, and were soon fast
asleep.

*      *      *      *      *

Joe proved to be correct in his prediction concerning the
reappearance of their terrified companion.

The next morning, when they were sitting at breakfast--that is,
sitting under a tree with their repast spread out on a paper between
them--the man from Pike County rode up.  He looked haggard, as well
he might, not having ventured to sleep for fear of the Indians, and
his horse seemed weary and dragged out.

"Where have you been?" asked Mr. Bickford innocently.

"Chasin' the Indians," said the Rip-tail Roarer, swinging himself
from his saddle.

"Sho!  Be there any Indians about here?"

"Didn't you hear them last night?" inquired the man from Pike.

"No."

"Nor you?" turning to Joe.

"I heard nothing of any Indians," replied Joe truthfully.

"Then all I can say is, strangers, that you sleep uncommon sound."

"Nothing wakes me up," said Bickford.  "What about them Indians?  Did
you railly see any?"

"I rather think I did," said the man from Pike.  "It couldn't have
been much after midnight when I was aroused by their war-whoop.
Starting up, I saw twenty of the red devils riding through the canon."

"Were you afraid?"

"Afraid!" exclaimed the man from Pike contemptuously.  "The Rip-tail
Roarer knows not fear.  I can whip my weight in wildcats------"

"Yes, I know you can," interrupted Joshua.  "You told us so
yesterday."

The man from Pike seemed rather annoyed at the interruption, but as
Mr. Bickford appeared to credit his statement he had no excuse for
quarreling.

He proceeded.

"Instantly I sprung to the back of my steed and gave them chase."

"Did they see you?"

"They did."

"Why didn't they turn upon you?  You said there were twenty of them."

"Why?" repeated the Pike man boastfully.  "They were afraid.  They
recognized me as the Rip-tail Roarer.  They knew that I had sent more
than fifty Indians to the happy hunting-grounds, and alone as I was
they fled."

"Sho!"

"Did you kill any of them?" asked Joe.

"When I was some distance on my way I found I had left my revolver
behind.  Did you find it, stranger?"

"There it is," said Joshua, who had replaced it on the ground close
to where the Pike man had slept.

He took it with satisfaction and replaced it in his girdle.

"Then you didn't kill any?"

"No, but I drove them away.  They won't trouble you any more."

"That's a comfort," said Joshua.

"Now, strangers, if you've got any breakfast to spare, I think I
could eat some."

"Set up, old man," said Mr. Bickford, with his mouth full.

The man from Pike did full justice to the meal.  Then he asked his
two companions, as a favor, not to start for two hours, during which
he lay down and rested.

The three kept together that day, but did not accomplish as much
distance as usual, chiefly because of the condition of their
companion's horse.

At night they camped out again.  In the morning an unpleasant
surprise awaited them.  Their companion had disappeared, taking with
him Joshua's horse and leaving instead his own sorry nag.  That was
not all.  He had carried off their bag of provisions, and morning
found them destitute of food, with a hearty appetite and many miles
away, as they judged, from any settlement.

"The mean skunk!" said Joshua.  "He's cleaned us out.  What shall we
do?"

"I don't know," said Joe seriously.




CHAPTER XXIX

JOHN CHINAMAN

The two friends felt themselves to be in a serious strait.  The
exchange of horses was annoying, but it would only lengthen their
journey a little.  The loss of their whole stock of provisions could
not so readily be made up.

"I feel holler," said Joshua.  "I never could do much before
breakfast.  I wish I'd eat more supper.  I would have done it, only I
was afraid, by the way that skunk pitched into 'em, we wouldn't have
enough to last."

"You only saved them for him, it seems," said Joe.  "He has certainly
made a poor return for our kindness."

"If I could only wring his neck, I wouldn't feel quite so hungry,"
said Joshua.

"Or cut his head off with a scythe," suggested Joe, smiling faintly.

"Danged if I wouldn't do it," said Mr. Bickford, hunger making him
bloodthirsty.

"We may overtake him, Mr. Bickford."

"You may, Joe, but I can't.  He's left me his horse, which is clean
tuckered out, and never was any great shakes to begin with.  I don't
believe I can get ten miles out of him from now till sunset."

"We must keep together, no matter how slow we go.  It won't do for us
to be parted."

"We shall starve together likely enough," said Joshua mournfully.

"I've heard that the French eat horse-flesh.  If it comes to the
worst, we can kill your horse and try a horse-steak."

"It's all he's fit for, and he ain't fit for that.  We'll move on for
a couple of hours and see if somethin' won't turn up.  I tell you,
Joe, I'd give all the money I've got for some of marm's johnny-cakes.
It makes me feel hungrier whenever I think of 'em."

"I sympathize with you, Joshua," said Joe.  "We may as well be movin'
on, as you suggest.  We may come to some cabin, or party of
travelers."

So they mounted their beasts and started.  Joe went ahead, for his
animal was much better than the sorry nag which Mr. Bickford
bestrode.  The latter walked along with an air of dejection, as if
life were a burden to him.

"If I had this critter at home, Joe, I'll tell you what I'd do with
him," said Mr. Bickford, after a pause.

"Well, what would you do with him?"

"I'd sell him to a sexton.  He'd be a first-class animal to go to
funerals.  No danger of his runnin' away with the hearse."

"You are not so hungry but you can joke, Joshua."

"It's no joke," returned Mr. Bickford.  "If we don't raise a supply
of provisions soon, I shall have to attend my own funeral.  My mind
keeps running on them johnny-cakes."

They rode on rather soberly, for the exercise and the fresh morning
air increased their appetites, which were keen when they started.

Mr. Bickford no longer felt like joking, and Joe at every step looked
anxiously around him, in the hope of espying relief.

On a sudden, Mr. Bickford rose in his Stirrups and exclaimed in a
tone of excitement:

"I see a cabin!"

"Where?"

"Yonder," said the Yankee, pointing to a one-story shanty, perhaps a
quarter of a mile away.

"Is it inhabited, I wonder?"

"I don't know.  Let us go and see."

The two spurred their horses, and at length reached the rude building
which had inspired them with hope.  The door was open, but no one was
visible.

Joshua was off his horse in a twinkling and peered in.

"Hooray!" he shouted in rejoicing accents.  "Breakfast's ready."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I've found something to eat."

On a rude table was an earthen platter full of boiled rice and a
stale loaf beside it.

"Pitch in, Joe," said Joshua.  "I'm as hungry as a wolf."

"This food belongs to somebody.  I suppose we have no right to it."

"Right be hanged.  A starving man has a right to eat whatever he can
find."

"Suppose it belongs to a fire-eater, or a man from Pike County?"

"We'll eat first and fight afterward."

Joe did not feel like arguing the matter.  There was an advocate
within him which forcibly emphasized Joshua's arguments, and he
joined in the banquet.

"This bread is dry as a chip," said Mr. Bickford.  "But no matter.  I
never thought dry bread would taste so good.  I always thought rice
was mean vittles, but it goes to the right place just now."

"I wonder if any one will have to go hungry on our account?" said Joe.

"I hope not, but I can't help it," returned Mr. Bickford.
"Necessity's the fust law of nature, Joe.  I feel twice as strong as
I did twenty minutes ago."

"There's nothing like a full stomach, Joshua.  I wonder to whom we
are indebted for this repast?"

Joe was not long in having his query answered.  An exclamation, as of
one startled, called the attention of the two friends to the doorway,
where, with a terrified face, stood a Chinaman, his broad face
indicating alarm.

"It's a heathen Chinee, by gosh!" exclaimed Joshua.

Even at that time Chinese immigrants had begun to arrive in San
Francisco, and the sight was not wholly new either to Joshua or Joe.

"Good morning, John," said our young hero pleasantly.

"Good morning, heathen," said Mr. Bickford.  "We thought we'd come
round and make you a mornin' call.  Is your family well?"

The Chinaman was reassured by the friendly tone of his visitors, and
ventured to step in.  He at once saw that the food which he had
prepared for himself had disappeared.

"Melican man eat John's dinner," he remarked in a tone of
disappointment.

"So we have, John," said Mr. Bickford.  "The fact is, we were
hungry--hadn't had any breakfast."

"Suppose Melican man eat--he pay," said the Chinaman.

"That's all right," said Joe; "we are willing to pay.  How much do
you want?"

The Chinaman named his price, which was not unreasonable, and it was
cheerfully paid.

"Have you got some more bread and rice, John?" asked Mr. Bickford.
"We'd like to buy some and take it along."

They succeeded in purchasing a small supply--enough with economy to
last a day or two.  This was felt as a decided relief.  In two days
they might fall in with another party of miners or come across a
settlement.

They ascertained on inquiry that the Chinaman and another of his
nationality had come out like themselves to search for gold.  They
had a claim at a short distance from which they had obtained a small
supply of gold.  The cabin they had found in its present condition.
It had been erected and deserted the previous year by a party of
white miners, who were not so easily satisfied as the two Chinamen.

"Well," said Joshua, after they had started on their way, "that's the
first time I ever dined at a Chinee hotel."

"We were lucky in coming across it," said Joe.

"The poor fellow looked frightened when he saw us gobblin' up his
provisions," said Mr. Bickford, laughing at the recollection.

"But we left him pretty well satisfied.  We didn't treat him as the
gentleman from Pike treated us."

"No--I wouldn't be so mean as that darned skunk.  It makes me mad
whenever I look at this consumptive boss he's left behind."

"You didn't make much out of that horse trade, Mr. Bickford."

"I didn't, but I'll get even with him some time if we ever meet
again."

"Do you know where he was bound?"

"No--he didn't say."

"I dare say it'll all come right in the end.  At any rate, we shan't
starve for the next forty-eight hours."

So in better spirits the two companions kept on their way.




CHAPTER XXX

ON THE YUBA RIVER

On the following day Joe and his comrade fell in with a party of men
who, like themselves, were on their way to the Yuba River.  They were
permitted to join them, and made an arrangement for a share of the
provisions.  This removed all anxiety and insured their reaching
their destination without further adventure.

The banks of the Yuba presented a busy and picturesque appearance.
On the banks was a line of men roughly clad, earnestly engaged in
scooping out gravel and pouring it into a rough cradle, called a
rocker.  This was rocked from side to side until the particles of
gold, if there were any, settled at the bottom and were picked out
and gathered into bags.  At the present time there are improved
methods of separating gold from the earth, but the rocker is still
employed by Chinese miners.

In the background were tents and rude cabins, and there was the
unfailing accessory of a large mining camp, the gambling tent, where
the banker, like a wily spider, lay in wait to appropriate the
hard-earned dust of the successful miner.

Joe and his friend took their station a few rods from the river and
gazed at the scene before them.

"Well, Mr. Bickford," said Joe, "the time has come when we are to try
our luck."

"Yes," said Joshua.  "Looks curious, doesn't it?  If I didn't know,
I'd think them chaps fools, stoopin' over there and siftin' mud.  It
'minds me of when I was a boy and used to make dirt pies."

"Suppose we take a day and look round a little.  Then we can find out
about how things are done, and work to better advantage."

"Just as you say, Joe, I must go to work soon, for I hain't nary red."

"I'll stand by you, Mr. Bickford."

"You're a fust-rate feller, Joe.  You seem to know just what to do."

"It isn't so long since I was a greenhorn and allowed myself to be
taken in by Hogan."

"You've cut your eye-teeth since then."

"I have had some experience of the world, but I may get taken in
again."

Joe and his friend found the miners social and very ready to give
them information.

"How much do I make a day?" said one in answer to a question from
Joshua.  "Well, it varies.  Sometimes I make ten dollars, and from
that all the way up to twenty-five.  Once I found a piece worth fifty
dollars.  I was in luck then."

"I should say you were," said Mr. Bickford.  "The idea of findin'
fifty dollars in the river.  It looks kind of strange, don't it, Joe?"

"Are any larger pieces ever found here?" asked Joe.

"Sometimes."

"I have seen larger nuggets on exhibition in San Francisco, worth
several hundred dollars.  Are any such to be found here?"

"Generally they come from the dry diggings.  We don't often find such
specimens in the river washings.  But these are more reliable."

"Can a man save money here?"

"If he'll be careful of what he gets.  But much of our dust goes
there."

He pointed, as he spoke, to a small cabin, used as a store and
gambling den at one and the same time.  There in the evening the
miners collected, and by faro, poker, or monte managed to lose all
that they had washed out during the day.

"That's the curse of our mining settlement," said their informant.
"But for the temptations which the gaming-house offers, many whom you
see working here would now be on their way home with a comfortable
provision for their families.  I never go there, but then I am in the
minority."

"What did you used to do when you was to hum?" inquired Joshua, who
was by nature curious and had no scruples about gratifying his
curiosity.

"I used to keep school winters.  In the spring and summer I assisted
my father on his farm down in Maine."

"You don't say you're from Maine?  Why, I'm from Maine myself,"
remarked Joshua.

"Indeed!  Whereabouts in Maine did you live?"

"Pumpkin Hollow."

"I kept school in Pumpkin Hollow one winter."

"You don't say so?  What is your name?" inquired Joshua earnestly.

"John Kellogg."

"I thought so!" exclaimed Mr. Bickford, excited.

"Why, I used to go to school to you, Mr. Kellogg."

"It is nine years ago, and you must have changed so much that I
cannot call you to mind."

"Don't you remember a tall, slab-sided youngster of thirteen, that
used to stick pins into your chair for you to set on?"

Kellogg smiled.

"Surely you are not Joshua Bickford?" he said.

"Yes, I am.  I am that same identical chap."

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Bickford," said his old school-teacher,
grasping Joshua's hand cordially.

"It seems kinder queer for you to call me Mr. Bickford."

"I wasn't so ceremonious in the old times," said Kellogg.

"No, I guess not.  You'd say, 'Come here, Joshua,' and you'd jerk me
out of my seat by the collar.  'Did you stick that pin in my chair?'
That's the way you used to talk.  And then you'd give me an all-fired
lickin'."

Overcome by the mirthful recollections, Joshua burst into an
explosive fit of laughter, in which presently he was joined by Joe
and his old teacher.

"I hope you've forgiven me for those whippings, Mr. Bickford."

"They were jest what I needed, Mr. Kellogg.  I was a lazy young
rascal, as full of mischief as a nut is of meat.  You tanned my hide
well."

"You don't seem to be any the worse for it now."

"I guess not.  I'm pretty tough.  I say, Mr. Kellogg," continued
Joshua, with a grin, "you'd find it a harder job to give me a lickin'
now than you did then."

"I wouldn't undertake it now.  I am afraid you could handle me."

"It seems cur'us, don't it, Joe?" said Joshua.  "When Mr. Kellogg
used to haul me round the schoolroom, it didn't seem as if I could
ever be a match for him."

"We change with the passing years," said Kellogg, in a moralizing
tone, which recalled his former vocation.  "Now you are a man, and we
meet here on the other side of the continent, on the banks of the
Yuba River.  I hope we are destined to be successful."

"I hope so, too," said Joshua, "for I'm reg'larly cleaned out."

"If I can help you any in the sway of information, I shall be glad to
do so."

Joe and Bickford took him at his word and made many inquiries,
eliciting important information.

The next day they took their places farther down the river and
commenced work.

Their inexperience at first put them at a disadvantage, They were
awkward and unskilful, as might have been expected.  Still, at the
end of the first day each had made about five dollars.

"That's something," said Joe.

"If I could have made five dollars in one day in Pumpkin Hollow,"
said Mr. Bickford, "I would have felt like a rich man.  Here it costs
a feller so much to live that he don't think much of it."

"We shall improve as we go along.  Wait till to-morrow night."

The second day brought each about twelve dollars, and Joshua felt
elated.

"I'm gettin' the hang of it," said he.  "As soon as I've paid up what
I owe you, I'll begin to lay by somethin'."

"I don't want you to pay me till you are worth five hundred dollars,
Mr. Bickford.  The sum is small, and I don't need it."

"Thank you, Joe.  You're a good friend.  I'll stick by you if you
ever want help."

In the evening the camp presented a lively appearance.

When it was chilly, logs would be brought from the woods, and a
bright fire would be lighted, around which the miners would sit and
talk of home and their personal adventures and experiences.  One
evening Mr. Bickford and Joe were returning from a walk, when, as
they approached the camp-fire, they heard a voice that sounded
familiar, and caught these words:

"I'm from Pike County, Missouri, gentlemen.  They call me the
Rip-tail Roarer.  I can whip my weight in wildcats."

"By gosh!" exclaimed Joshua, "if it ain't that skunk from Pike.  I
mean to tackle him."




CHAPTER XXXI

JUDGE LYNCH PRONOUNCES SENTENCE

The gentleman from Pike was sitting on a log, surrounded by miners,
to whom he was relating his marvelous exploits.  The number of
Indians, grizzly bears, and enemies generally, which, according to
his account, he had overcome and made way with, was simply enormous.
Hercules was nothing to him.  It can hardly be said that his
listeners credited his stories.  They had seen enough of life to be
pretty good judges of human nature, and regarded them as romances
which served to while away the time.

"It seems to me, my friend," said Kellogg, who, it will be
remembered, had been a schoolmaster, "that you are a modern Hercules."

"Who's he?" demanded the Pike man suspiciously, for he had never
heard of the gentleman referred to.

"He was a great hero of antiquity," exclaimed Kellogg, "who did many
wonderful feats."

"That's all right, then," said the Pike man.  "If you're friendly,
then I'm friendly.  But if any man insults me he'll find he's tackled
the wrong man.  I can whip my weight in wildcats------"

Here he was subjected to an interruption.

Mr. Bickford could no longer suppress his indignation when at a
little distance he saw his mustang, which this treacherous braggart
had robbed him of, quietly feeding.

"Look here, old Rip-tail, or whatever you call yourself, I've got an
account to settle with you."

The Pike man started as he heard Mr. Bickford's voice, which, being
of a peculiar nasal character, he instantly recognized.  He felt that
the meeting was an awkward one, and he would willingly have avoided
it.  He decided to bluff Joshua off if possible, and, as the best way
of doing it, to continue his game of brag.

"Who dares to speak to me thus?" he demanded with a heavy frown,
looking in the opposite direction.  "Who insults the Rip-tail Roarer?"

"Look this way if you want to see him," said Joshua.  "Put on your
specs if your eyes ain't good."

The man from Pike could no longer evade looking at his late comrade.