CHAPTER VII
Friends and Hunters
"My, now, you've given us quite a fright! Feel a bit queerish? Eh?"
As if in a dream, Jack heard the words and struggled to answer. But forsome reason or other, which his disordered mind could not fathom, andwhich distressed him greatly, the words would not come to his lips.Moreover, he could not concentrate his wandering thoughts on any onematter. Now he was in court, under trial for robbery, and a moment laterhe was on the stage with Amos, helping in some conjuring feat which drewroars of applause from the assembled audience. His thoughts even sweptback to that eventful ride on the railway; but they never reachedfinality. The train ran on and on, while he clung to the rail and thefootboard, immovable, desperate, unable to creep forward or back.
"Say, now, yer ain't feelin' quite so bad? A bit shook up and so on? Butbetter, ain't yer?"
Jack opened his eyes, and saw a bearded face leaning over him. He shutthem again promptly, as if the sight had been too much for him, as wellit might, for the individual who had stared so closely at our hero wasnot prepossessing, to say the least of it. He was gently pushed asideby another individual, and a woman's gentle voice spoke.
"Leave him to me a little," she said. "He is still very weak, and notfully conscious. Leave him, please. In a little while he will bebetter."
Jack felt a warm pressure on his hand, and sank once more into oblivion.But it was a pleasant unconsciousness on this occasion. No longer was hedistressed with views of the court, with counsel for the prosecutionstanding before the jury and encouraging them to find this young fellowguilty. No longer did he cling desperately to the rail of the train. Hesank into a dreamless, comforting oblivion, which held him securely inits tender grip for another half-hour. And then he suddenly opened hiseyes.
"Well, now," he exclaimed, somewhat feebly, for his tongue seemed to beheavily loaded, "where on earth am I? And what has been happening?Coming, sir, coming."
Back wandered his mind to Amos, and he fancied he heard the conjurercalling to him.
"Lie still and you'll feel better. Sip this," said someone, and at once,obedient to the command, too weak to be over curious as to why it wasgiven or by whom, our hero sipped at the glass placed to his lips. Andthe spirit there revived him wonderfully. It was as if a spur wereneeded to stimulate his flagging energies. The cordial given him seemedto have acted as a strong fillip, and in a minute he was sitting up,pushing aside an arm which endeavoured to hold him down.
"Here, what's this?" he asked indignantly. "I'm not a baby! I--halloo!Where am I?"
"Still in the train, recovering from the wound you received," said thesame gentle voice. "Now lie down again."
But Jack was stubborn, and had a horror of illness or of any show ofweakness. He let his legs slide from the long seat on which he had beenlying, and sat bolt upright. He looked round in a dazed fashion, andthen gave a cry of recognition.
"Ah, the train!" he said. "Guess this is where that robber lay. Whathappened?"
"A heap," said someone standing near at hand, and, looking at him, ourhero discovered the man who had stood with folded arms whilst therobber's revolver was pointed at him. "Jest a heap, young sir. But thereain't no further call to fear the robber. Guess he's rubbed out clean."
He pointed to the far end of the coach, where, under a piece ofsailcloth, rested something which had the form of a body. Jack shudderedand turned away.
"And no need to blame yourself neither," came from the man. "It was donein fair fight, and thar warn't no favour. 'Sides, he managed to wingyou. How's the arm?"
"I had forgotten it," answered Jack, looking down and discovering thathis arm rested in a sling made from a scarf. "It hurts just a little,but nothing to what it did at first. Is the wound severe?"
"Enough to cripple yer for a time, I guess, but not so baddish. A youngchap like you'll be able to swing the arm within three weeks, and workwith it in six. The bullet jest went a bit high. Or low, was it, seeingas you was kinder upside down? It clipped the bone, I reckon, but tharain't a break. Ye'll do nicely. Now, if yer feel up to it, jest tell ushow it all happened."
Jack felt wonderfully better already, though a little bashful, for thecoach was half-filled with passengers, all of whom were looking at himand listening eagerly. He stared back at them for a time, for the menhere were in many cases of a different class to those he was accustomedto. They were sunburned, with but a few exceptions, and these latterwere obviously commercial men, travelling for some trade. The otherslooked more like settlers, or cowboys, or even miners. They wore rough,highly coloured shirts, broad belts, and riding-boots and breeches. Eachone carried a revolver, and some a hunting-knife.
"Kinder surprised at the look of us, eh?" smiled the tall man with thebig moustaches. "Wall, we're ordinary enough out this way. Yer don't getfolks out in this part dressin' as if they was in New York, not much.We're ranchers, or miners, almost to a man. Now fer that 'ere yarn."
Very quietly and modestly Jack told how he had boarded the train, andrecounted his subsequent actions.
"Reckon it was the only thing I could do," he wound up lamely. "They'dhave shot me as well as anyone else."
"I dunno," came hotly from one of the passengers. "I dunno so much.Excuse me, young stranger, but I'll ax a question. Yer was right aftthar, close to the truck, warn't you? And yer could have boarded that aseasy as possible? Eh?"
Jack nodded, colouring visibly, for he began to wonder whether he wouldhave to declare to all present that that was actually his intention.
"Then them skunks wouldn't have found you. They was huntin' for the carwhat carries the gold. Yer hadn't no call to enter the conductor's crib,none at all, siree, and yet yer did. Yer cut him loose, and then comealong the footboard. There war something else you could ha' done. Yercould ha' layed there snug, and not cared a jot. Reckon ye've saved apile for the owners of that 'ere money."
There was a loud chorus of approval, and immediately afterwards the tallman with the fine moustaches stepped forward.
"That isn't all," he said slowly. "Ladies and gentlemen, many of youknow me. I'm Tom Horsfall, from down Colorado way, and I've made thistrip many a time, and scores of others. I've been through the Indiancountry, and have seen fighting. Then every mother's son of us has usedhis gun to save the outfit we've been along with, and to keep our ownscalps. Reckon we hadn't a show here. Those varmint were on to us tooquick, and a man has to weaken sometimes when he hasn't had time to lifthis gun. This young stranger didn't save the gold alone. Guess he saveda goodish few of us."
Once more there was a chorus of approval.
"Ye've put it neat and handy, Tom," sang out the one who had spokenearlier. "He's saved lives as well as money."
"And as a mark of our appreciation the passengers on the train, as wellas the staff, have made a collection. I have much pleasure in handingyou three hundred dollars."
The big man smiled--a comprehensive smile, which took in all thecompany present, and Jack in particular. He stepped up to our hero, andhanded him a skin purse which was heavy with dollars.
"Ye've earned it fair and handsome," he said. "Take it, my lad."
To say that Jack was delighted and somewhat overcome would be todescribe his condition incorrectly. Tears were in his eyes as he tookthe money, and he attempted vainly to return thanks. But the big manhelped him out.
"Yer ain't no call to say a word," he said kindly. "We all understand,and we don't want thanks. Now, stranger, jest yer lie down again andsleep. We'll talk later on."
"But the conductor?" asked Jack, suddenly remembering the man he hadreleased, and who had fallen from the train.
"He's jest as comfortable as may be," came the reassuring answer. "Thebullet that ruffian fired went slick through his wrist and made him letgo. He's a bit shook, and no wonder; but thar ain't anything worse withhim than a hole in his wrist, and that'll mend as soon as your wound.Now, git down and rest."
The order was peremptory now, and Jack obeyed it. A delicious sense
ofcomfort and security came over him, and, better than all, the feelingthat he had friends. A while ago he was a hunted criminal, with none tolook to for help. Now, in the pocket of his jacket, he had solidevidence of good friendship; for the dollars chinked loudly when hemoved, while all who looked at him smiled or patted his hand. Meanwhilethe train was proceeding, and when in the course of seven hours Jackawoke, he found houses about him, and lights flickering through themorning mist. The passengers were descending from the cars, grippingtheir luggage, and everything pointed to the fact that the end of thejourney was reached.
"The rails don't go any farther," said Tom Horsfall, coming and sittingbeside him. "From here those who live farther afield have to go bycaravan, and there they are, hurrying away, as if they hadn't a momentto lose. Where are you going, lad?"
Jack sat up suddenly and looked at his questioner. From the very firsthe had taken a liking to Tom, and knew intuitively that he was one whocould be trusted. Still, he reflected, he must not say too much. Theconstable might even now be following.
"To California," he answered steadily.
"To dig?"
Jack nodded his head. "Partly that, partly to earn money at the forge.I've done a course of smith's work, and am fairly handy."
An exclamation of pleasure escaped Tom promptly.
"Do yer want a job?" he asked swiftly. "'Cos I've one ter offer."
To do Jack full justice, he hesitated to accept the post, and felttroubled. For common sense told him that the place was offered becauseof what he had done. It was, in a measure, a reward for his services.But there was another aspect of the matter. When he had accepted Amos'soffer it was at a moment when he was sorely pressed, and when, becauseof his haste, he had little time to consider other matters. But Jackwas honest to the core, and he had made up his mind to work for himselfat his trade rather than to accept a post and leave his employerignorant of his past history. And here he was face to face with thedilemma. He must either refuse what might turn out to be just the thingfor him, or he must declare himself and hold nothing back.
"Yer ain't got no cause to fret about the arm," said Tom, noticing hishesitation, "'cos we've a long march before us. It'll be three monthsbefore we reach Nevada, and another before we hit upon a spot at whichter dig. Long before then ye'll be fit again, and it's when we're at thediggin's that ye'll come in handy. We've been lookin' out fer a smith,and, yer see, we're off to Californy like you, so the thing seems kinderter fit."
"It isn't that," exclaimed Jack quickly. "I want to say something. Youdon't know anything about me. I might be anything at all."
"Now, look ye here," cried Tom hotly, "don't yer jest take me fer afool. No one out here knows what his mates are, nor cares either.'Tain't no business of no one's. Reckon out thar at the diggin's and onthe plains yer kin meet men as was dukes in Europe, others that'sthieves, and crowds that has as shady a history as yer could well thinkof. That ain't no one's concern. But you!--with that honest face andfrank look--don't yer try ter get telling me that you've got a historymarked up against yer. Yer may have met trouble, but I reckon it comefrom someone else's fault; or it was a monkey trick that any lad'll getup to. Don't tell me. I've been out these ways boy and man, and I ain'teasily took in."
"Listen a moment," said Jack quietly. "I am an escaped prisoner, undertrial quite recently for burglary, and under suspicion of having killeda man."
If our hero expected Tom to give vent to a whistle of astonishment, andto make some sort of demonstration, he was disappointed. Tom sat downcoolly, pulled out a cigar, and bit the end off.
"Jest you fire ahead with the yarn, young 'un," he said, between thepuffs, as he held a match to the weed. "Tell me jest as much as yerlike, and jest as little. I ain't no policeman, I'm a plain man; andwhere I've worked, though thar's been a sheriff, he's mostly lived ahundred or more miles away. Consequence is, we've jedged matters ferourselves. Reckon we don't make many mistakes, neither. If a man's ahorse thief or a train robber, or something of that sort, he has a fairshow to clear himself. Ef he can't, he's shot. What's the row beenabout?"
Jack told him frankly what his trouble was, and how he had fled from theprison. Then he described his work with Amos, and finally his dash forthe train. Tom listened coolly, taking deep pulls at his weed, andfilling the carriage with smoke. Not an observation escaped him. But hisbrows were wrinkled, and his eyes almost closed, seeming to point to thefact that he was thinking deeply. He rose and went to the window to tossthe ash from his weed, and sauntered back again.
"Do yer smoke, young 'un?" he asked curtly but not unkindly. Then, asJack shook his head, he went on. "Ah, more's the pity jest now, for asmoke kinder helps a man. He gets something between his teeth, and gripstight at it. Ef he's got a plaguey business on hand, somehow or otherthe thing between his teeth, and the smoke bubbling up into the air,lets him get down to the bottom of that 'ere business. Jest tell me.Could you recognize that 'ere chap as came to the forge for the key?"
"Anywhere!" exclaimed Jack emphatically.
"Then yer ain't no cause ter worry. And I'll tell yer why. All the trainrobbers and sich like that works out east has to make tracks sooner orlater. Things gets too hot for 'em, and they have to move or be nabbed.Wall, this here fellow has made things hot. A murder's a murder, and itdon't help matters even if the papers tell him that someone else isstanding his trial for the crime. The truth will out some day, and thatsome day may be sooner rather than later; so the chap clears from theeast. And whar does he make for?"
Tom looked steadily at Jack, and, seeing that he shook his head, went onpromptly. "I'll tell yer. He goes slick west, to the diggin's, wharthar's miners to swindle, and gold trains ter hold up. That's whar theruffians get to; and seeing that that's the case, ye're like ter meetthis fellow out Californy way sooner than in New York direction. That'sa good solid reason for yer to come west yerself, and though yer mayhave thought, and rightly too, to throw off pursuit quicker in thatdirection, ye've chosen at the same time the one place in all the worldwhar you're likely ter get evidence that'll clear yer. Do I believe youdid it?"
Tom looked at Jack as he asked the question, and then burst into a loudguffaw.
"Shucks!" he cried; "thar ain't no sense in the noddles of themstay-at-homes. Anyone could see with half an eye that sarcumstances wasdead against yer, and that before jedgment was given, your age, yourpast life, everything should be taken into consideration. But that jedgeand jury seemed ter have made up their minds, without even setting towork to learn if other men had been handy, if a cart had been hired, orother burglaries committed in them parts by two men. Reckon that friendof yours you call James did well ter advise yer ter skip. Once ye'd putyour nose into a prison, ye'd have been done. Ye'd never have clearedyourself. Now ye've a goodish chance, and I'll help yer. That job'sstill open, youngster. And, by the way, what's the name?"
"Jack Kingsley. Tom Starling when I boarded the train."
"Then Jack let it be. Thar ain't no call ter have a second name. One'sgood enough, and heaps. Will yer come?"
"Rather! and ever so many thanks for helping me," cried Jack, his lip atrifle tremulous, for such kindness moved him.
"I ain't done nothing," came the prompt answer, "nothing compared withwhat you've managed fer me. Reckon that rascal near let lead into me.Jest remember this, lad. Ye're as good as any hereabouts, and no call tohang your head. And thar ain't no fear of arrest. Thar ain't a soulas'll know yer, save the villain that did that burglary and left yer toface the trial. Ef yer meet him ye'll have ter act, and afore yer getto the diggin's ye'll have learned how. Now jest a word about myself.I've been everything--cowboy, rancher with my own ranch, storekeeper,and miner. I ain't no wife nor chicks, and so a wandering life suits me.And I've been lucky. Two years ago come Christmas time I struck it richand plenty way west in Californy, and me and my mate cleared out with ahandsome banking account. We agreed to separate till this time, and thenter go partners again ef both of us wished ter have another turn. Wall,we're both for th
e diggin's again, and we're going to do it big thistime. We've each put three thousand dollars into the thing, and I'vewith me on the train an outfit that'll wash gold of itself. It'll want abit of fixin', and now and again a little repair, without a doubt. Asmith's the man for that, and so you're jest rightly fitted. Yer ain'tgot no tools, perhaps?"
"None," Jack admitted, and then with a smile, "you see, I left sohurriedly. There wasn't time to bring much away, and an anvil is ratherheavy."
"And perlicemen have a way of skipping along precious quick," laughedTom. "But we'll fix the whole matter. My mate meets me here at the railhead, and we buy a wagon and some mules or hosses. Then we set offacross the plains, choosing some convoy to go with, ef that's possible.Ef not, we'll have to risk the Indians. In any case we shall have a longtrail before us, and ef you're fond of shootin' and huntin' thar'll beheaps of both for yer. Why, ef that ain't Steve!"
A short, spare man entered the car at this moment, and stepped lightlytowards Tom. There was the merest smile of recognition on his face,while the eyes lit up for a moment. They gripped hands for an instant,and then Steve crossed to the window, and looked out sharply, craninghis head so as to see in either direction. Tom laughed heartily.
"Steve's the silentest man I ever chummed with," he said. "And he can'tget that 'ere backwoods trick out of his mind. Don't matter where he is,he's lookin' round, p'raps for enemies, p'raps for somethin' ter eat.Lookin' round's become a sorter habit with him. Howdy, Steve?" heshouted out. "Jest come and larn to know our new hand. This here's Jack,smith to our outfit."
The little man strode from the window, faced Jack openly, and grippedhis hand till our hero could have shouted. He liked the look of Steve.He was the very image of those hunters and scouts he had so often readabout; the silent, lean hunter who went his way into the wilderness, andwhose every hour called for courage and determination.
"Howdy, stranger?" said Steve. "Kin yer shoot?"
"None," answered Jack promptly.
"Nor ride?"
"A very little."
"Then ye'll do. Most every tenderfoot that comes this way is clean offthe finest shot and the best ter sit a horse that was ever seen. Theygit to teachin' the old hands. Ef yer ain't used to neither, reckonye'll shape mighty soon. I ain't one who holds with side. Deeds is wortha hull wagon load of boastin'."
"And words ain't much in your line," laughed Tom. "I never heard Stevemake a longer speech. He's took well to yer, Jack. Now then, listenhere, mate. This Jack's begun his shootin' already. We got held up backthar down the line, and he cleared us proper. Jest cast yer eye up thereat the roof."
Steve strode beneath the lantern, and rapidly surveyed the punctureswhich the robber's bullets had made. In a flash his eye took in thegeneral disorder, the broken window, the stained carpet, and the longform lying beneath the sailcloth.
"It war warm while it lasted," he said, returning. "Whar was you?"
Jack pointed aloft. "On the roof," he said quietly. "He'd have had methere I expect. So I held on to a smokestack, and shot him through thewindow."
Steve strode to the side of the car, and once more surveyed thesurroundings. He leaped to the ground, and they saw him clambering alongthe footboard. Then he returned as suddenly as he had gone.
"Ever pulled a trigger afore?" he asked bluntly.
"Never."
"And yer was upside down, so ter speak?"
"That's so," admitted Jack.
"I'm glad ye're comin'."
Steve was a character. He was as taciturn and as silent as a man mightwell be. But honest to the core. A stanch friend, a bitter enemy, forhis had been a rough life; and a man so sharp that nothing escaped him.His last words were high commendation indeed, and Jack, realizing that,reddened.
"We'll be startin' right away," said Steve, addressing Tom. "A townain't no fit place fer a scout. One can't kinder breathe, with all thesmoke and the houses. I've palled with six boys as is goin' west."
The news was excellent, especially when Tom had persuaded his partner tobe a little more explicit. The boys turned out to be old hunter friendsof Steve's, accustomed to the plains, and their addition to the partywould make it possible for Tom and Steve and Jack to push on promptly,and not wait for a larger party. For in those days the wide tracts ofplain separating the east from California were infested by cut-throatIndians, and many was the massacre for which they were responsible.Indeed, hundreds of unfortunate men and women, making their way acrossto the goldfields, fell foul of these red demons, and were slaughteredand scalped unmercifully.
"Then to-morrow we'll move," said Tom. "It won't take more'n two hourster buy up an anvil and sich like things. Hosses ain't no difficulty.Thar's always plenty of 'em. Now, Jack, let's be movin'. Ye'll comeright along with us to the camp, and start in as our man from thismoment."
Indian and Scout: A Tale of the Gold Rush to California Page 7