Ben's Nugget; Or, A Boy's Search For Fortune. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "We couldn't get along very well without him, Jake," said Ben.

      "That's where you're right, Ben. He's made himself useful to us, and no mistake."

      "I have reason to feel indebted to him," said Dewey. "Injured as I was, I should have fared badly but for his faithful services. I am not at all sure that I should have been living at this moment had not the grateful fellow cared for me and supplied my wants."

      It may be explained here that Richard Dewey had at one time rescued Ki Sing from some rough companions who had made up their minds to cut off the Chinaman's queue, thereby, in accordance with Chinese custom, preventing him ever returning to his native country. It was the thought of this service that had prompted Ki Sing to faithful service when he found his benefactor in need of it.

      Half an hour passed, and still the Chinaman did not appear.

      All three became anxious, especially Dewey. "Bradley," said he, "would you mind going out to look for Ki Sing? I'm sure something has happened to him."

      "Just what I was thinkin' of myself," said Bradley. "I'll go, and I'll bring him back if he's above ground."

      "I'll go with you, Jake," said Ben, rising from the ground on which he was seated.

      "You'd better stay with Dick Dewey," said Bradley; "maybe he'll want you."

      "I forgot that. Yes, I will stay."

      "No; I would rather you would go with Bradley," said the invalid. "Two will stand a better chance of success than one. I sha'n't need anything while you are away."

      "Just as you say, Dick.—Well, Ben, let's start along. I reckon we'll find Ki Sing before long, and then we'll have some supper."

      As the two started on their errand Richard Dewey breathed a sigh of relief. "I really believe I'm getting attached to Ki Sing," he said to himself. "He's a good fellow, if he is a Chinaman, and if ever I am prosperous I will take him into my service and see that he is comfortably provided for."

      The poor Chinaman, though Dewey did not suspect it, was at that moment in a very uncomfortable position indeed, and he himself was menaced by a peril already near at hand against which his helpless condition allowed of no defence. His lonely and monotonous life was destined to be varied that evening in an unpleasant manner.

      CHAPTER III.

      TWO GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD

      Perhaps two hours earlier two horsemen might have been seen riding slowly over a lower slope of the mountain. The horses they bestrode were of the Mexican breed, or, in common parlance, mustangs. They were themselves dressed in Mexican style, and bore a strong resemblance to bandits as we are apt to picture them.

      These gentlemen were Bill Mosely and Tom Hadley, hailing originally from Missouri, but not reflecting any particular credit on their native State. They were in fact adventurers, having a strong objection to honest work and a decided preference for gaining a living by unlawful means. The very horses they bestrode were stolen, having once belonged to Jake Bradley and Ben Stanton. The circumstances under which they were stolen will be remembered by readers of The Young Explorer.

      "Beastly place, this, Tom!" said Bill Mosely, with a strong expression of disgust.

      "I should say so," answered Hadley, who was wont by this phrase to echo the sentiments expressed by his companion and leader.

      "I wouldn't have come up here if it had proved safe to stay lower down," continued Bill Mosely. "That last man we relieved of his gold-dust might prove troublesome if we should fall in with him again—eh, Tom?"

      "I should say so," remarked Mr. Hadley in a tone of sincere conviction.

      "I should like to see him when he wakes up and finds his bag of dust missing," said Mosely, with a laugh.

      As he spoke he drew from his pocket a good-sized bag which appeared to be nearly full of dust. "There must be several hundred dollars' worth there," he said, complacently.

      He expected to hear Hadley answer in his usual style, but was disappointed.

      "When are we going to divide?" asked Hadley, with an expression of interest not unmingled with anxiety.

      "You'd better let me carry it, Tom; it's all the same."

      "I should say so. No, I would prefer to take charge of my part," said Hadley, "or at least to carry the bag part of the time."

      Bill Mosely frowned darkly, and he brought his hand near the pocket in which he carried his pistol. "Hadley," he said, sternly, "do you doubt my honor?"

      "I should say—not," answered Tom Hadley in a dissatisfied tone, bringing out the last word after a slight pause; "but I don't see why I shouldn't carry the bag part of the time."

      "Had you doubted my honor," continued Mosely with a grand air, "though you are my friend, I should have been compelled to take your life. I never take any back talk. I chaw up any one who insults me. I'm a regular out-and-out desperado, I am, when I'm riled."

      "I've heard all that before," said Tom Hadley, rather impatiently.

      It was quite true, for this was the style in which Bill Mosely was accustomed to address new acquaintances. It had not succeeded with Jake Bradley, who had enough knowledge of human nature to detect the falsity of Mosely's pretensions and the sham character of his valor.

      "You've heard it before," said Mosely, severely, "but ain't it true? That's what I ask you, Tom Hadley."

      "I should say so," slipped out almost unconsciously from the lips of the habitual echo.

      "'Tis well," said Mosely, waving his hand. "You know it and you believe it. I'm a bad man to insult, I am. I generally chaw up them that stand in my way."

      Tom Hadley was really a braver man than Mosely, and he answered obstinately, "Give me half that gold-dust, or I'll take it."

      Bill Mosely saw his determined face and felt that it was necessary to back down. "I don't know why I don't shoot you," he said, trying to keep up his air of domination.

      "Because two can play at that game," said Hadley, doggedly.

      He produced a pouch, and Bill Mosely, much against his will, was compelled to divide the contents of the stolen bag, managing, however, to retain the larger share himself.

      "I don't want to quarrel with a friend," said Bill, more mildly, "but you don't act friendly to-day."

      "It's all right now," said Hadley, satisfied.

      "Maybe you think I don't want to act fair," continued Mosely in an injured tone. "Why, the very horse you are riding is a proof to the contrary. I didn't ask for both horses, did I?"

      "You couldn't ride both," answered Tom Hadley, with practical good sense.

      "I wonder where the fellows are we took them from?" said Mosely, with a change of subject. "The man was a regular fire-eater: I wouldn't like to meet him again."

      "I should say so," chimed in Hadley, emphatically.

      Bradley had paid Mosely in his own coin, and boasted of his prowess even more extravagantly than that braggadocio, claiming to have killed from seventy to eighty men in the course of his experience. Mosely СКАЧАТЬ