"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. He pretended not to know him.

"Stranger," said he, with one hand on the handle of his knife, "are you tired of life?"

"I am neither tired of life nor afraid of you," said Joshua manfully.

"You don't know me, or———"

"Yes, I do. You're the man that says he can whip his weight in wildcats. I don't believe you dare to face your weight in tame cats."

"Sdeath!" roared the bully. "Do you want to die on the spot?"

"Not particularly, old Rip-tail. Don't talk sech nonsense. I'll trouble you to tell me why you stole my horse on the way out here."

"Let me get at him," said the Pike man in a terrible voice, but not offering to get up from the log.

"Nobody henders your gettin' at me," said Mr. Bickford composedly. "But that ain't answerin' my question."

"If I didn't respect them two gentlemen too much, I'd shoot you where you stand," said the Pike man.

"I've got a shootin'-iron myself, old Rip-tail, and I'm goin' to use it if necessary."

"What have you to say in answer to this man's charge?" asked one of the miners, a large man who was looked upon as the leader of the company. "He charges you with taking his horse."

"He lies!" said the man from Pike.

"Be keerful, old Rip-tail," said Mr. Bickford in a warning tone. "I don't take sass any more than you do."

"I didn't steal your horse."

"No, you didn't exactly steal it, but you took it without leave and left your own bag of bones in his place. But that wasn't so bad as stealin' all our provisions and leavin' us without a bite, out in the wilderness. That's what I call tarnation mean."

"What have you to say to these charges?" asked the mining leader gravely.

"Say? I say that man is mistaken. I never saw him before in my life."

"Well, that's cheeky," said Joshua, aghast at the man's impudence. "Why, I know you as well as if we'd been to school together. You are the Rip-tail Roarer. You are from Pike County, Missouri, you are. You can whip your weight in wildcats. That's he, gentlemen. I leave it to you."

In giving the description, Joshua imitated the boastful accents of his old comrade with such success that the assembled miners laughed and applauded.

"That's he! You've got him!" they cried.

"Just hear that, old Rip-tail," said Mr. Bickford. "You see these gentlemen here believe me and they don't believe you."

"There's a man in this here country that looks like me," said the Pike man, with a lame excuse. "You've met him, likely."

"That won't go down, old Rip-tail. There ain't but one man can whip his weight in wildcats and tell the all-firedest yarns out. That's you, and there ain't no gettin' round it."

"This is a plot, gentlemen," said the man from Pike, glancing uneasily at the faces around him, in which he read disbelief of his statements. "My word is as good as his."

"Maybe it is," said Mr. Bickford. "I'll call another witness. Joe, jest tell our friends here what you know about the gentleman from Pike. If I'm lyin', say so, and I'll subside and never say another word about it."

"All that my friend Bickford says is perfectly true," said Joe modestly. "This man partook of our hospitality and then repaid us by going off early one morning when we were still asleep, carrying off all our provisions and exchanging his own worn-out horse for my friend's mustang, which was a much better animal."

The man from Pike had not at first seen Joe. His countenance fell when he saw how Mr. Bickford's case was strengthened, and for the moment he could not think of a word to say.

"You are sure this is the man, Joe?" asked, the leader of the miners.

"Yes, I will swear to it. He is not a man whom it is easy to mistake."

"I believe you. Gentlemen," turning to the miners who were sitting or standing about him, "do you believe this stranger or our two friends?"

The reply was emphatic, and the man from Pike saw that he was condemned.

"Gentlemen," he said, rising, "you are mistaken, and I am the victim of a plot. It isn't pleasant to stay where I am suspected, and I'll bid you good evening."

"Not so fast!" said the leader, putting his hand heavily on his shoulder. "You deserve to be punished, and you shall be. Friends, what shall we do with him?"

"Kill him! String him up!" shouted some.

The Rip-tail Roarer's swarthy face grew pale as he heard these ominous words. He knew something of the wild, stern justice of those days. He knew that more than one for an offense like his had expiated his crime with his life.

"It seems to me," said the leader, "that the man he injured should fix the penalty. Say you so?"

"Aye, aye!" shouted the miners.

"Will you two," turning to Joe and Bickford, "decide what shall be done with this man? Shall we string him up?"

The Pike man's nerve gave way.

He flung himself on his knees before Joshua and cried:

"Mercy! mercy! Don't let them hang me!"

Joshua was not hard-hearted. He consulted with Joe and then said:

"I don't want the critter's life. If there was any wild-cats round, I'd like to see him tackle his weight in 'em, as he says he can. As there isn't, let him be tied on the old nag he put off on me, with his head to the horse's tail, supplied with one day's provisions, and then turned loose!"

This sentence was received with loud applause and laughter.

The horse was still in camp and was at once brought out. The man from Pike was securely tied on as directed, and then the poor beast was belabored with whips till he started off at the top of his speed, which his old owner, on account of his reversed position, was unable to regulate. He was followed by shouts and jeers from the miners, who enjoyed this act of retributive justice.

"Mr. Bickford, you are avenged," said Joe,

"So I am, Joe. I'm glad I've got my hoss back; but I can't help pityin' poor old Rip-tail, after all. I don't believe he ever killed a wildcat in his life."



CHAPTER XXXII

TAKING ACCOUNT OF STOCK

Three months passed. They were not eventful. The days were spent in steady and monotonous work; the nights were passed around the camp-fire, telling and hearing, stories and talking of home. Most of their companions gambled and drank, but Mr. Bickford and Joe kept clear of these pitfalls.

"Come, man, drink with me," more than once one of his comrades said to Joshua.

"No, thank you," said Joshua.

"Why not? Ain't I good enough?" asked the other, half offended.

"You mean I'm puttin' on airs 'cause I won't drink with you? No, sir-ree. There isn't a man I'd drink with sooner than with you."

"Come up, then, old fellow. What'll you take?"

"I'll take a sandwich, if you insist on it."

"That's vittles. What'll you drink?"

"Nothing but water. That's strong enough for me."

"Danged if I don't believe you're a minister in disguise."

"I guess I'd make a cur'us preacher," said Joshua, with a comical twist of his features. "You wouldn't want to hear me preach more'n once."

In this way our friend Mr. Bickford managed to evade the hospitable invitations of his comrades and still retain their good-will—not always an easy thing to achieve in those times.

Joe was equally positive in declining to drink, but it was easier for him to escape. Even the most confirmed drinkers felt it to be wrong to coax a boy to drink against his will.

There was still another—Kellogg—who steadfastly adhered to cold water, or tea and coffee, as a beverage. These three were dubbed by their companions the "Cold-Water Brigade," and accepted the designation good-naturedly.

"Joshua," said Joe, some three months after their arrival, "have you taken account of stock lately?"

"No," said Joshua, "but I'll do it now."

After a brief time he announced the result.

"I've got about five hundred dollars, or thereabouts," he said.

"You have done a little better than I have."

"How much have you?"

"About four hundred and fifty."

"I owe you twenty-five dollars, Joe. That'll make us even."

Joshua was about to transfer twenty-five dollars to Joe, when the latter stayed his hand.

"Don't be in a hurry, Mr. Bickford," he said. "Wait till we get to the city."

"Do you know, Joe," said Joshua, in a tone of satisfaction, "I am richer than I was when I sot out from home?"

"I am glad to hear it, Mr. Bickford. You have worked hard, and deserve your luck."

"I had only three hundred dollars then; now I've got four hundred and seventy-five, takin' out what I owe you."

"You needn't take it out at all."

"You've done enough for me, Joe. I don't want you to give me that debt."

"Remember, Joshua, I have got a business in the city paying me money all the time. I expect my share of the profits will be more than I have earned out here."

"That's good. I wish I'd got a business like you. You'd be all right even if you only get enough to pay expenses here."

"That's so."

"I am getting rather tired of this place, Mr. Bickford," said Joe, after a little pause.

"You don't think of going back to the city?" asked Joshua apprehensively.

"Not directly, but I think I should like to see a little more of California. These are not the only diggings."

"Where do you want to go?"

"I haven't considered yet. The main thing is, will you go with me?"

"We won't part company, Joe."

"Good! Then I'll inquire, and see what I can find out about other places. This pays fairly, but there is little chance of getting nuggets of any size hereabouts."

"I'd just like to find one worth two thousand dollars. I'd start for home mighty quick, and give Sukey Smith a chance to become Mrs. Bickford."

"Success to you!" said Joe, laughing.



CHAPTER XXXIII

A STARTLING TABLEAU

Joe finally decided on some mines a hundred miles distant in a southwesterly direction. They were reported to be rich and promising.

"At any rate," said he, "even if they are no better than here, we shall get a little variety and change of scene."

"That'll be good for our appetite."

"I don't think, Mr. Bickford, that either of us need be concerned about his appetite. Mine is remarkably healthy."

"Nothing was ever the matter with mine," said Joshua, "as long as the provisions held out."

They made some few preparations of a necessary character. Their clothing was in rags, and they got a new outfit at the mining store. Each also provided himself with a rifle. The expense of these made some inroads upon their stock of money, but by the time they were ready to start they had eight hundred dollars between them, besides their outfit, and this they considered satisfactory.

Kellogg at first proposed to go with them, but finally he changed his mind.

"I am in a hurry to get home," he said, "and these mines are a sure thing. If I were as young as you, I would take the risk. As it is, I had better not. I've got a wife and child at home, and I want to go back to them as soon as I can."

"You are right," said Joe.

"I've got a girl at home," said Joshua, "but I guess she'll wait for me."

"Suppose she don't," suggested Joe.

"I shan't break my heart," said Mr. Bickford. "There's more than one girl in the world."

"I see you are a philosopher, Mr. Bickford," said his old schoolmaster.

"I don't know about that, but I don't intend to make a fool of myself for any gal. I shall say, 'Sukey, here I am; I've got a little money, and I'm your'n till death if you say so. If you don't want me, I won't commit susancide."

"That's a capital joke, Joshua," said Joe. "Her name is Susan, isn't it?"

"Have I made a joke? Waal, I didn't go to do it."

"It is unconscious wit, Mr. Bickford," said Kellogg.

"Pooty good joke, ain't it?" said Joshua complacently. "Susan-cide, and her name is Susan. Ho! ho! I never thought on't."

And Joshua roared in appreciation of the joke which he had unwittingly perpetrated, for it must be explained that he thought susan-cide the proper form of the word expressing a voluntary severing of the vital cord.

Years afterward, when Joshua found himself the center of a social throng, he was wont to say, "Ever heard that joke I made about Susan?" and then he would cite it amid the plaudits of his friends.

Mr. Bickford and Joe had not disposed of their horses. They had suffered them to forage in the neighborhood of the river, thinking it possible that the time would come when they would require them.

One fine morning they set out from the camp near the banks of the Yuba and set their faces in a southwesterly direction. They had made themselves popular among their comrades, and the miners gave them a hearty cheer as they started.

"Good luck, Joe! Good luck, old man!" they exclaimed heartily.

"The same to you, boy!"

So with mutual good feeling they parted company.

"We ain't leavin' like our friend from Pike County," said Mr. Bickford. "I often think of the poor critter trottin' off with face to the rear."

"I hope we shan't meet him or any of his kind," said Joe.

"So do I. He'd better go and live among the wildcats."

"He is some like them. He lives upon others."

It would only be wearisome to give a detailed account of the journey of the two friends. One incident will suffice.

On the fourth day Joe suddenly exclaimed in excitement:

"Look, Joshua!"

"By gosh!"

The exclamation was a natural one. At the distance of forty rods a man was visible, his hat off, his face wild with fear, and in dangerous proximity a grizzly bear of the largest size doggedly pursuing him.

"It's Hogan!" exclaimed Joe in surprise. "We must save him."

CHAPTER XXXIV

A GRIZZLY ON THE WAR-PATH

It may surprise some of my young friends to learn that the grizzly bear is to be found in California. Though as the State has increased in population mostly all have been killed off, even now among the mountains they may be found, and occasionally visit the lower slopes and attack men and beasts.

Hogan had had the ill-luck to encounter one of these animals.

When he first saw the grizzly there was a considerable space between them. If he had concealed himself, he might have escaped the notice of the beast, but when he commenced running the grizzly became aware of his presence and started in pursuit.

Hogan was rather dilapidated in appearance. Trusting to luck instead of labor, he had had a hard time, as he might have expected. His flannel shirt was ragged and his nether garments showed the ravages of time. In the race his hat had dropped off and his rough, unkempt hair was erect with fright. He was running rapidly, but was already showing signs of exhaustion. The bear was getting over the ground with clumsy speed, appearing to take it easily, but overhauling his intended victim slowly, but surely.

Joe and Bickford were standing on one side, and had not yet attracted the attention of either party in this unequal race.

"Poor chap!" said Joshua. "He looks most tuckered out. Shall I shoot?"

"Wait till the bear gets a little nearer. We can't afford to miss. He will turn on us."

"I'm in a hurry to roll the beast over," said Joshua. "It's a cruel sight to see a grizzly hunting a man."

At this moment Hogan turned his head with the terror-stricken look of a man who felt that he was lost.

The bear was little more than a hundred feet behind him and was gaining steadily. He was already terribly fatigued—his breathing was reduced to a hoarse pant. He was overcome by the terror of the situation, and his remaining strength gave way. With a shrill cry he sank down upon the ground, and, shutting his eyes, awaited the attack.

The bear increased his speed.

"Now let him have it!" said Joe in a sharp, quick whisper.

Mr. Bickford fired, striking the grizzly in the face.

Bruin stood still and roared angrily. He wagged his large head from one side to the other, seeking by whom this attack was made.

He espied the two friends, and, abandoning his pursuit of Hogan, rolled angrily toward them.

"Give it to him quick, Joe!" exclaimed Bickford. "He's making for us."

Joe held his rifle with steady hand and took deliberate aim. It was well he did, for had he failed both he and Bickford would have been in great peril.

His faithful rifle did good service.

The bear tumbled to the earth with sudden awkwardness. The bullet had reached a vital part and the grizzly was destined to do no more mischief.

"Is he dead, or only feigning?" asked Joe prudently.

"He's a gone coon," said Joshua. "Let us go up and look at him."

They went up and stood over the huge beast. He was not quite dead. He opened his glazing eyes, made a convulsive movement with his paws as if he would like to attack his foes, and then his head fell back and he moved no more.

"He's gone, sure enough," said Bickford. "Good-by, old grizzly. You meant well, but circumstances interfered with your good intentions."

"Now let us look up Hogan," said Joe.

The man had sunk to the ground utterly exhausted, and in his weakness and terror had fainted.

Joe got some water and threw it in his face.

He opened his eyes and drew a deep breath. A sudden recollection blanched his face anew, and he cried:

"Don't let him get at me!"

"You're safe, Mr. Hogan," said Joe. "The bear is dead."

"Dead! Is he really dead?"

"If you don't believe it, get up and look at him," said Bickford.

"I can't get up—I'm so weak."

"Let me help you, then. There—do you see the critter?"

Hogan shuddered as he caught sight of the huge beast only twenty-five feet distant from him.

"Was he as near as that?" he gasped.

"He almost had you," said Bickford. "If it hadn't been for Joe and me, he'd have been munchin' you at this identical minute. Things have changed a little, and in place of the bear eatin' you you shall help eat the bear."

By this time Hogan, realizing that he was safe, began to recover his strength. As he did so he became angry with the beast that had driven him such a hard race for life. He ran up to the grizzly and kicked him.

"Take that!" he exclaimed with an oath. "I wish you wasn't dead, so that I could stick my knife into you."

"If he wasn't dead you'd keep your distance," said Joshua dryly. "It don't require much courage to tackle him now."

Hogan felt this to be a reflection upon his courage.

"I guess you'd have run, too, if he'd been after you," he said.

"I guess I should. Bears are all very well in their place, but I'd rather not mingle with 'em socially. They're very affectionate and fond of hugging, but if I'm going to be hugged I wouldn't choose a bear."

"You seem to think I was a coward for runnin' from the bear."

"No, I don't. How do I know you was runnin' from the bear? Maybe you was only takin' a little exercise to get up an appetite for dinner."

"I am faint and weak," said Hogan. "I haven't had anything to eat for twelve hours."

"You shall have some food," said Joe. "Joshua, where are the provisions? We may as well sit down and lunch."

"Jest as you say, Joe. I most generally have an appetite."

There was a mountain spring within a stone's throw. Joshua took a tin pail and brought some of the sparkling beverage, which he offered first to Hogan.

Hogan drank greedily. His throat was parched and dry, and he needed it.

He drew a deep breath of relief.

"I feel better," said he. "I was in search of a spring when that cursed beast spied me and gave me chase."

They sat down under the shade of a large tree and lunched.

"What sort of luck have you had since you tried to break into my restaurant, Mr. Hogan?" asked Joe.

Hogan changed color. The question was an awkward one.

"Who told you I tried to enter your restaurant?" he asked.

"The man you brought there."

"That wasn't creditable of you, Hogan," said Joshua, with his mouth full. "After my friend Joe had given you a supper and promised you breakfast, it was unkind to try to rob him. Don't you think so yourself?"

"I couldn't help it," said Hogan, who had rapidly decided on his defense.

"Couldn't help it?" said Joe in a tone of inquiry. "That's rather a strange statement."

"It's true," said Hogan. "The man forced me to do it."

"How was that?"

"He saw me comin' out of the restaurant a little while before, and when he met me, after trying to rob me and finding that it didn't pay, he asked me if I was a friend of yours. I told him I was. Then he began to ask if you slept there at night and if anybody was with you. I didn't want to answer, but he held a pistol at my head and forced me to. Then he made me go with him. I offered to get in, thinking I could whisper in your ear and warn you, but he wouldn't let me. He stationed me at the window and got in himself. You know what followed. As soon as I saw you were too strong for him I ran away, fearing that he might try to implicate me in the attempt at robbery."

Hogan recited this story very glibly and in a very plausible manner.

"Mr. Hogan," said Joe, "if I didn't know you so thoroughly, I might be disposed to put confidence in your statements. As it is, I regret to say I don't believe you."

"Hogan," said Joshua, "I think you're one of the fust romancers of the age. If I ever start a story-paper I'll engage you to write for me."

"I am sorry you do me so much injustice, gentlemen," said Hogan, with an air of suffering innocence. "I'm the victim of circumstances."

"I expect you're a second George Washington. You never told a lie, did you?"

"Some time you will know me better," said Hogan.

"I hope not," said Joe. "I know you better now than I want to."



CHAPTER XXXV

THE NEW DIGGINGS

When lunch-was over, Joe said:

"Good day, Mr. Hogan. Look out for the grizzlies, and may you have better luck in future."

"Yes, Hogan, good by," said Joshua. "We make over to you all our interest in the bear. He meant to eat you. You can revenge yourself by eatin' him."

"Are you going to leave me, gentlemen?" asked Hogan in alarm.

"You don't expect us to stay and take care of you, do you?"

"Let me go with you," pleaded Hogan. "I am afraid to be left alone in this country. I may meet another grizzly, and lose my life."

"That would be a great loss to the world," said Mr. Bickford, with unconcealed sarcasm.

"It would be a great loss to me," said Hogan.

"Maybe that's the best way to put it," observed Bickford. "It would have been money in my friend Joe's pocket if you had never been born."

"May I go with you?" pleaded Hogan, this time addressing himself to Joe.

"Mr. Hogan," said Joe, "you know very well why your company is not acceptable to us."

"You shall have no occasion to complain," said Hogan earnestly.

"Do you want us to adopt you, Hogan?" asked Joshua.

"Let me stay with you till we reach the nearest diggings. Then I won't trouble you any more."

Joe turned to Bickford.

"If you don't object," he said, "I think I'll let him come."

"Let the critter come," said Bickford. "He'd be sure to choke any grizzly that tackled him. For the sake of the bear, let him come."

Mr. Hogan was too glad to join the party, on any conditions, to resent the tone which Mr. Bickford employed in addressing him. He obtained his suit, and the party of three kept on their way.

As they advanced the country became rougher and more hilly. Here and there they saw evidences of "prospecting" by former visitors. They came upon deserted claims and the sites of former camps. But in these places the indications of gold had not been sufficiently favorable to warrant continued work, and the miners had gone elsewhere.

At last, however, they came to a dozen men who were busily at work in a gulch. Two rude huts near-by evidently served as their temporary homes.

"Well, boys, how do you find it?" inquired Bickford, riding up.

"Pretty fair," said one of the party.

"Have you got room for three more?"

"Yes—come along. You can select claims alongside and go to work if you want to."

"What do you say, Joe?"

"I am in favor of it."

"We are going to put up here, Hogan," said Mr. Bickford. "You can do as you've a mind to. Much as we value your interestin' society, we hope you won't put yourself out to stay on our account."

"I'll stay," said Hogan.

Joe and Joshua surveyed the ground and staked out their claims, writing out the usual notice and posting it on a neighboring tree. They had not all the requisite tools, but these they were able to purchase at one of the cabins.

"What shall I do?" asked Hogan. "I'm dead broke. I can't work without tools, and I can't buy any."

"Do you want to work for me?" asked Joshua.

"What'll you give?"

"That'll depend on how you work. If you work stiddy, I'll give you a quarter of what we both make. I'll supply you with tools, but they'll belong to me."

"Suppose we don't make anything," suggested Hogan.

"You shall have a quarter of that. You see, I want to make it for your interest to succeed."

"Then I shall starve."

The bargain was modified so that Hogan was assured of enough to eat, and was promised, besides, a small sum of money daily, but was not to participate in the gains.

"If we find a nugget, it won't do you any good. Do you understand, Hogan?"

"Yes, I understand."

He shrugged his shoulders, having very little faith in any prospective nuggets.

"Then we understand each other. That's all I want."

On the second day Joe and Mr. Bickford consolidated their claims and became partners, agreeing to divide whatever they found. Hogan was to work for them jointly.

They did not find their hired man altogether satisfactory. He was lazy and shiftless by nature, and work was irksome to him.

"If you don't work stiddy, Hogan," said Joshua, "you can't expect to eat stiddy, and your appetite is pretty reg'lar, I notice."

Under this stimulus Hogan managed to work better than he had done since he came out to California, or indeed for years preceding his departure. Bickford and Joe had both been accustomed to farm work and easily lapsed into their old habits.

They found they had made a change for the better in leaving the banks of the Yuba. The claims they were now working paid them better.

"Twenty-five dollars to-day," said Joshua, a week after their arrival. "That pays better than hoeing pertaters, Joe."

"You are right, Mr. Bickford. You are ten dollars ahead of me. I am afraid you will lose on our partnership."

"I'll risk it, Joe."

Hogan was the only member of the party who was not satisfied.

"Can't you take me into partnership?" he asked.

"We can, but I don't think we will, Hogan," said Mr. Bickford.

"It wouldn't pay. If you don't like workin' for us, you can take a claim of your own."

"I have no tools."

"Why don't you save your money and buy some, instead of gamblin' it away as you are doin'?"

"A man must have amusement," grumbled Hogan. "Besides, I may have luck and win."

"Better keep clear of gamblin', Hogan."

"Mr. Hogan, if you want to start a claim of your own, I'll give you what tools you need," said Joe.

Upon reflection Hogan decided to accept this offer.

"But of course you will have to find your own vittles now," said Joshua.

"I'll do it," said Hogan.

The same day he ceased to work for the firm of Bickford & Mason, for Joe insisted on giving Mr. Bickford the precedence as the senior party, and started on his own account.

The result was that he worked considerably less than before. Being his own master, he decided not to overwork himself, and in fact worked only enough to make his board. He was continually grumbling over his bad luck, although Joshua told him plainly that it wasn't luck, but industry, he lacked.

"If you'd work like we do," said Bickford, "you wouldn't need to complain. Your claim is just as good as ours, as far as we can tell."

"Then let us go in as partners," said Hogan.

"Not much. You ain't the kind of partner I want."

"I was always unfortunate," said Hogan.

"You were always lazy, I reckon. You were born tired, weren't you?"

"My health ain't good," said Hogan. "I can't work like you two."

"You've got a healthy appetite," said Mr. Bickford. "There ain't no trouble there that I can see."

Mr. Hogan had an easier time than before, but he hadn't money to gamble with unless he deprived himself of his customary supply of food, and this he was reluctant to do.

"Lend me half-an-ounce of gold-dust, won't you?" he asked of Joe one evening.

"What do you want it for—to gamble with?"

"Yes," said Hogan. "I dreamed last night that I broke the bank. All I want is money enough to start me."

"I don't approve of gambling, and can't help you."

Hogan next tried Mr. Bickford, but with like result.

"I ain't quite such a fool, Hogan," said the plain-spoken Joshua.

About this time a stroke of good luck fell to Joe. bout three o'clock one afternoon he unearthed a nugget which, at a rough estimate, might be worth five hundred dollars.

Instantly all was excitement in the mining-camp, not alone for what he had obtained, but for the promise of richer deposits. Experienced miners decided that he had, struck upon what is popularly called a "pocket," and some of these are immensely remunerative.

"Shake hands, Joe," said Bickford. "You're in luck."

"So are you, Mr. Bickford. We are partners, you know."

In less than an hour the two partners received an offer of eight thousand dollars for their united claim, and the offer was accepted.

Joe was the hero of the camp. All were rejoiced at his good fortune except one. That one was Hogan, who from a little distance, jealous and gloomy, surveyed the excited crowd.



CHAPTER XXXVI

HOGAN'S DISCONTENT

"Why don't luck come to me?" muttered Hogan to himself. "That green country boy has made a fortune, while I, an experienced man of the world, have to live from hand to mouth. It's an outrage!"

The parties to whom Joe and his partner sold their claim were responsible men who had been fortunate in mining and had a bank-account in San Francisco.

"We'll give you an order on our banker," they proposed.

"That will suit me better than money down," said Joe. "I shall start for San Francisco to-morrow, having other business there that I need to look after."

"I'll go too, Joe," said Joshua. "With my share of the purchase-money and the nugget, I'm worth, nigh on to five thousand dollars. What will dad say?"

"And what will Susan Smith say?" queried Joe.

Joshua grinned.

"I guess she'll say she's ready to change her name to Bickford," said he.

"You must send me some of the cake, Mr. Bickford."

"Just wait, Joe. The thing ain't got to that yet. I tell you, Joe, I shall be somebody when I get home to Pumpkin Hollow with that pile of money. The boys'll begin to look up to me then. I can't hardly believe it's all true. Maybe I'm dreamin' it. Jest pinch my arm, will you?"

Joe complied with his request.

"That'll do, Joe. You've got some strength in your fingers. I guess it's true, after all."

Joe observed with some surprise that Hogan did not come near them. The rest, without exception, had congratulated them on their extraordinary good luck.

"Seems to me Hogan looks rather down in the mouth," said Joe to Bickford.

"He's mad 'cause he didn't find the nugget. That's what's the matter with him. I say, Hogan, you look as if your dinner didn't agree with you."

"My luck don't agree with me."

"You don't seem to look at things right. Wasn't you lucky the other day to get away from the bear?"

"I was unlucky enough to fall in with him."

"Wasn't you lucky in meetin' my friend Joe in New York, and raisin' money enough out of him to pay your passage out to Californy?"

"I should be better off in New York. I am dead broke."

"You'd be dead broke in New York. Such fellers as you always is dead broke."

"Do you mean to insult me, Mr. Bickford?" demanded Hogan irritably.

"Oh, don't rare up, Hogan. It won't do no good. You'd ought to have more respect for me, considerin' I was your boss once."

"I'd give something for that boy's luck."

"Joe's luck? Well, things have gone pretty well with turn; but that don't explain all his success—he's willin' to work."

"So am I."

"Then go to work on your claim. There's no knowin' but there's a bigger nugget inside of it. If you stand round with your hands in your pockets, you'll never find it."

"It's the poorest claim in the gulch," said Hogan discontentedly.

"It pays the poorest because you don't work half the time."

Hogan apparently didn't like Mr. Bickford's plainness of speech. He walked away moodily, with his hands in his pockets. He could not help contrasting his penniless position with the enviable position of the two friends, and the devil, who is always in wait for such moments, thrust an evil suggestion into his mind.

It was this:

He asked himself why could he not steal the nugget which Joe had found?

"He can spare it, for he has sold the claim for a fortune," Hogan reasoned. "It isn't fair that he should have everything and I should have nothing. He ought to have made me his partner, anyway. He would if he hadn't been so selfish. I have just as much right to a share in it as this infernal Yankee. I'd like to choke him."

This argument was a very weak one, but a man easily persuades himself of what he wants to do.

"I'll try for it," Hogan decided, "this very night."



CHAPTER XXXVII

THE NUGGET IS STOLEN.

At this time Joe and Joshua were occupying a tent which they had purchased on favorable terms of a fellow miner.

They retired in good season, for they wished to start early on their journey on the following morning.

"I don't know as I can go to sleep," said Joshua. "I can't help thinkin' of how rich I am, and what dad and all the folks will say."

"Do you mean to go home at once, Mr. Bickford?"

"Jest as soon as I can get ready. I'll tell you what I am goin' to do, Joe. I'm goin' to buy a tip-top suit when I get to Boston, and a gold watch and chain, and a breast-pin about as big as a saucer. When I sail into Pumpkin Holler in that rig folks'll look at me, you bet. There's old Squire Pennyroyal, he'll be disappointed for one."

"Why will he be disappointed?"

"Because he told dad I was a fool to come out here. He said I'd be back in rags before a year was out. Now, the old man thinks a good deal of his opinion, and he won't like it to find how badly he's mistaken."

"Then he would prefer to see you come home in rags?"

"You bet he would."

"How about Susan? Ain't you afraid she has married the store clerk?"

Joshua looked grave for a moment.

"I won't say but she has," said he; "but if she has gone and forgotten about me jest because my back is turned, she ain't the gal I take her for, and I won't fret my gizzard about her."

"She will feel worse than you when she finds you have come back with money."

"That's so."

"And you will easily find some one else," suggested Joe.

"There's Sophrony Thompson thinks a sight of me," said Mr. Bickford. "She's awful jealous of Susan. If Susan goes back on me, I'll call round and see Sophrony."

Joe laughed.

"I won't feel anxious about you, Joshua," he said, "since I find you have two girls to choose between."

"Not much danger of breakin' my heart. It's pretty tough."

There was a brief silence.

Then Joshua said:

"What are your plans, Joe? Shall you remain in San Francisco?"

"I've been thinking, Mr. Bickford, that I would like to go home on a visit. If I find that I have left my business in good hands in the city, I shall feel strongly tempted to go home on the same steamer with you."

"That would be hunky," said Bickford, really delighted. "We'd have a jolly time."

I think we would. But, Mr. Bickford, I have no girls to welcome me home, as you have."

"You ain't old enough yet, Joe. You're a good-lookin' feller, and when the time comes I guess you can find somebody."

"I don't begin to trouble myself about such things yet," said Joe, laughing. "I am only sixteen."

"You've been through considerable, Joe, for a boy of sixteen. I wish you'd come up to Pumpkin Holler and make me a visit when you're to home."

"Perhaps I can arrange to be present at your wedding, Mr. Bickford—that is, if Susan doesn't make you wait too long."

While this conversation was going on the dark figure of a man was prowling near the tent.

"Why don't the fools stop talking and go to sleep," muttered Hogan. "I don't want to wait here all night." His wish was gratified.

The two friends ceased talking and lay quite still. Soon Joe's deep, regular breathing and Bickford's snoring convinced the listener that the time had come to carry out his plans.

With stealthy step he approached the tent, and stooping over gently removed the nugget from under Joshua's head. There was a bag of gold-dust which escaped his notice. The nugget was all he thought of.

With beating heart and hasty step the thief melted into the darkness, and the two friends slept on unconscious of their loss.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

HOGAN'S FATE

The sun was up an hour before Joe and Bickford awoke. When Joe opened his eyes he saw that it was later than the hour he intended to rise. He shook his companion.

"Is it mornin'?" asked Bickford drowsily.

"I should say it was. Everybody is up and eating breakfast. We must prepare to set out on our journey."

"Then it is time—we are rich," said Joshua, with sudden remembrance. "Do you know, Joe, I hain't got used to the thought yet. I had actually forgotten it."

"The sight of the nugget will bring it to mind."

"That's so."

Bickford felt for the nugget, without a suspicion that the search would be in vain.

Of course he did not find it.

"Joe, you are trying to play a trick on me," he said. "You've taken the nugget."

"What!" exclaimed Joe, starting. "Is it missing?"

"Yes, and you know all about it. Where have you put it, Joe?"

"On my honor, Joshua, I haven't touched it," said Joe seriously. "Where did you place it?"

"Under my head—the last thing before I lay down."

"Are you positive of it?"

"Certain, sure."

"Then," said Joe, a little pale, "it must have been taken during the night."

"Who would take it?"

"Let us find Hogan," said Joe, with instinctive suspicion. "Who has seen Hogan?"

Hogan's claim was in sight, but he was not at work. Neither was he taking breakfast.

"I'll bet the skunk has grabbed the nugget and cleared out," exclaimed Bickford, in a tone of conviction.

"Did you hear or see anything of him during the night?"

"No—I slept too sound."

"Is anything else taken?" asked Joe. "The bag of dust———"

"Is safe. It's only the nugget that's gone."

The loss was quickly noised about the camp. Such an incident was of common interest. Miners lived so much in common—their property was necessarily left so unguarded—that theft was something more than misdemeanor or light offense. Stern was the justice which overtook the thief in those days. It was necessary, perhaps, for it was a primitive state of society, and the code which in established communities was a safeguard did not extend its protection here.

Suspicion fell upon Hogan at once. No one of the miners remembered to have seen him since rising.

"Did any one see him last night?" asked Joe.

Kellogg answered.

"I saw him near your tent," he said. "I did not think anything of it. Perhaps if I had been less sleepy I should have been more likely to suspect that his design was not a good one."

"About what hour was this?"

"It must have been between ten and eleven o'clock."

"We did not go to sleep at once. Mr. Bickford and I were talking over our plans."

"I wish I'd been awake when the skunk come round," said Bickford. "I'd have grabbed him so he'd thought an old grizzly'd got hold of him."

"Did you notice anything in his manner that led you to think he intended robbery?" asked Kellogg.

"He was complainin' of his luck. He thought Joe and I got more than our share, and I'm willin' to allow we have; but if we'd been as lazy and shif'less as Hogan we wouldn't have got down to the nugget at all."

An informal council was held, and it was decided to pursue Hogan. As it was uncertain in which direction he had fled, it was resolved to send out four parties of two men each to hunt him. Joe and Kellogg went together, Joshua and another miner departed in a different direction, and two other pairs started out.

"I guess we'll fix him," said Mr. Bickford. "If he can dodge us all, he's smarter than I think he is."

Meanwhile Hogan, with the precious nugget in his possession, hurried forward with feverish haste. The night was dark and the country was broken. From time to time he stumbled over some obstacle, the root of a tree or something similar, and this made his journey more arduous.

"I wish it was light," he muttered.

Then he revoked his wish. In the darkness and obscurity lay his hopes of escape.

"I'd give half this nugget if I was safe in San Francisco," he said to himself.

He stumbled on, occasionally forced by his fatigue to sit down and rest.

"I hope I'm going in the right direction, but I don't know," he said to himself.

He had been traveling with occasional rests for four hours when fatigue overcame him. He lay down to take a slight nap, but when he awoke the sun was up.

"Good Heaven!" he exclaimed in alarm. "I must have slept for some hours. I will eat something to give me strength, and then I must hurry on."

He had taken the precaution to take some provisions with him, and he began to eat them as he hurried along.

"They have just discovered their loss," thought Hogan. "Will they follow me, I wonder? I must be a good twelve miles away, and this is a fair start. They will turn back before they have come as far as this. Besides, they won't know in what direction I have come."

Hogan was mistaken in supposing himself to be twelve miles away. In reality, he was not eight. During the night he had traveled at disadvantage, and taken a round-about way without being aware of it. He was mistaken also in supposing that the pursuit would be easily abandoned. Mining communities could not afford to condone theft, nor were they disposed to facilitate the escape of the thief. More than once the murderer had escaped, while the thief was pursued relentlessly. All this made Hogan's position a perilous one. If he had been long enough in the country to understand the feeling of the people, he would not have ventured to steal the nugget.

About eleven o'clock Hogan sat down to rest. He reclined on the greensward near the edge of a precipitous descent. He did not dream that danger was so close till he heard his name called and two men came running toward him. Hogan, starting to his feet in dismay, recognized Crane and Peabody, two of his late comrades.

"What do you want?" he faltered, as they came within hearing.

"The nugget," said Crane sternly.

Hogan would have denied its possession if he could, but there it was at his side.

"There it is," he said.

"What induced you to steal it?" demanded Crane.

"I was dead broke. Luck was against me. I couldn't help it."

"It was a bad day's work for you," said Peabody. "Didn't you know the penalty attached to theft in the mining-camps?"

"No," faltered Hogan, alarmed at the stem looks of his captors. "What is it?"

"Death by hanging," was the terrible reply.

Hogan's face blanched, and he sank on his knees before them.

"Don't let me be hung!" he entreated. "You've got the nugget back. I've done no harm. No one has lost anything by me."

"Eight of us have lost our time in pursuing you. You gave up the nugget because you were forced to. You intended to carry it away."

"Mercy! mercy! I'm a very unlucky man. I'll go away and never trouble you again."

"We don't mean that you shall," said Crane sternly. "Peabody, tie his hands; we must take him back with us."

"I won't go," said Hogan, lying down. "I am not going back to be hung."

It would obviously be impossible to carry a struggling man back fifteen miles, or more.

"We must hang you on the spot then," said Crane, producing a cord. "Say your prayers; your fate is sealed."

"But this is murder!" faltered Hogan, with pallid lips.

"We take the responsibility."

He advanced toward Hogan, who now felt the full horrors of his situation. He sprang to his feet, rushed in frantic fear to the edge of the precipice, threw up his arms, and plunged headlong. It was done so quickly that neither of his captors was able to prevent him.

They hurried to the precipice and looked over. A hundred feet below, on a rough rock, they saw a shapeless and motionless figure, crushed out of human semblance.

"Perhaps it is as well," said Crane gravely. "He has saved us an unwelcome task."

The nugget was restored to its owners, to whom Hogan's tragical fate was told.

"Poor fellow!" said Joe soberly. "I would rather have lost the nugget."

"So would I," said Bickford. "He was a poor, shif'less critter; but I'm sorry for him."



CHAPTER XXXIX

HOW JOE'S BUSINESS PROSPERED

Joe and his friend Bickford arrived in San Francisco eight days later without having met with any other misadventure or drawback. He had been absent less than three months, yet he found changes. A considerable number of buildings had gone up in different parts of the town during his absence.

"It is a wonderful place," said Joe to his companion.

"It is going to be a great city some day."

"It's ahead of Pumpkin Holler already," said Mr. Bickford, "though the Holler has been goin' for over a hundred years."

Joe smiled at the comparison. He thought he could foresee the rapid progress of the new city, but he was far from comprehending the magnificent future that lay before it. A short time since, the writer of this story ascended to the roof of the Palace Hotel, and from this lofty elevation, a hundred and forty feet above the sidewalk, scanned with delighted eyes a handsome and substantial city, apparently the growth of a century, and including within its broad limits a population of three hundred thousand souls. It will not be many years before it reaches half-a-million, and may fairly be ranked among the great cities of the world.

Of course Joe's first visit was to his old place of business. He received a hearty greeting from Watson, his deputy.

"I am glad to see you, Joe," said he, grasping our hero's hand cordially. "When did you arrive?"

"Ten minutes ago. I have made you the first call."

"Perhaps you thought I might have 'vamosed the ranch,'" said Watson, smiling, "and left you and the business in the lurch."

"I had no fears on that score," said Joe. "Has business been good?"

"Excellent. I have paid weekly your share of the profits to Mr. Morgan."

"Am I a millionaire yet?" asked Joe.

"Not quite. I have paid Mr. Morgan on your account"—here Watson consulted a small account-book—"nine hundred and twenty-five dollars."

"Is it possible?" said Joe, gratified. "That is splendid."

"Then you are satisfied?"

"More than satisfied."

"I am glad of it. I have made the same for myself and so have nearly half made up the sum which I so foolishly squandered at the gaming-table."

"I am glad for you, Mr. Watson."

"How have you prospered at the mines?"

"I have had excellent luck."

"I don't believe you bring home as much money as I have made for you here."

"Don't bet on that, Mr. Watson, for you would lose."

"You don't mean to say that you have made a thousand dollars?" exclaimed Watson, surprised.

"I have made five thousand dollars within a hundred or two."

"Is it possible!" ejaculated Watson. "You beat everything for luck, Joe."

"So he does," said Bickford, who felt that it was time for him to speak. "It's lucky for me that I fell in with him. It brought me luck, too, for we went into partnership together."

"Have you brought home five thousand dollars, too?" asked Watson.

"I've got about the same as Joe, and now I'm going home to marry Susan Smith if she'll have me."

"She'll marry a rich miner, Mr. Bickford. You needn't be concerned about that."

"I feel pretty easy in mind," said Joshua.

"How soon do you sail?"

"When does the next steamer go?"

"In six days."

"I guess it'll carry me."

Watson turned to Joe.

"I suppose you will now take charge of your own business?" said lie. "I am ready to hand over my trust at any minute."

"Would you object to retaining charge for—say for four months to come?" asked Joe.

"Object? I should be delighted to do it. I couldn't expect to make as much money any other way."

"You see, Mr. Watson, I am thinking of going home myself on a visit. I feel that I can afford it, and I should like to see my old friends and acquaintances under my new and improved circumstances."

Watson was evidently elated at the prospect of continued employment of so remunerative a character.

"You may depend upon it that your interests are safe in my hands," said he. "I will carry on the business as if it were my own. Indeed, it will be for my interest to do so."

"I don't doubt it, Mr. Watson. I have perfect confidence In your management."

Joe's next call was on his friend Morgan, by whom also he was cordially welcomed.

"Have you called on Watson?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then he has probably given you an idea of how your business has gone on during your absence. He is a thoroughly reliable man, in my opinion. You were fortunate to secure his services."

"So I think."

"Have you done well at the mines?" asked Mr. Morgan doubtfully.

"You hope so, but you don't feel confident?" said Joe, smiling.

"You can read my thoughts exactly. I don't consider mining as reliable as a regular business."

"Nor I, in general, but there is one thing you don't take into account."

"What is that?"

Mr. Bickford answered the question.

"Joe's luck."

"Then you have been lucky?"

"How much do you think I have brought home?"

"A thousand dollars?"

"Five times that sum."

"Are you in earnest?" asked Mr. Morgan, incredulous.

"Wholly so."

"Then let me congratulate you—on that and something else."

"What is that?"

"The lots you purchased, including the one on which your restaurant is situated, have more than doubled in value."

"Bully for you, Joe!" exclaimed Mr. Bickford enthusiastically.

"It never rains but it pours," said Joe, quoting an old proverb. "I begin to think I shall be rich some time, Mr. Morgan."

"It seems very much like it."

"What would you advise me to do, Mr. Morgan—sell out the lots at the present advance?"

"Hold on to them, Joe. Not only do that, but buy more. This is destined some day to be a great city. It has a favorable location, is the great mining center, and the State, I feel convinced, has an immense territory fit for agricultural purposes. Lots here may fluctuate, but they will go up a good deal higher than present figures."

"If you think so, Mr. Morgan, I will leave in your hands three thousand dollars for investment in other lots. This will leave me, including my profits from the business during my absence, nearly three thousand dollars more, which I shall take East and invest there."

"I will follow your instructions, Joe, and predict that your real estate investments will make you rich sooner than you think."

"Joe," said Bickford, "I've a great mind to leave half of my money with Mr. Morgan to be invested in the same way."

"Do it, Mr. Bickford. That will leave you enough to use at home."

"Yes—I can buy a farm for two thousand dollars and stock it for five hundred more. Besides, I needn't pay more than half down, if I don't want to."

"A good plan," said Joe.

"Mr. Morgan, will you take my money and invest it for me just like Joe's? Of course I want you to take a commission for doing it."

"With pleasure, Mr. Bickford, more especially as I have decided to open a real estate office in addition to my regular business. You and Joe will be my first customers. I shouldn't wonder if the two or three thousand dollars you leave with me should amount in ten years to ten thousand."

"Ten thousand!" ejaculated Joshua, elated. "Won't I swell round Pumpkin Holler when I'm worth ten thousand dollars!"

Six days later, among the passengers by the steamer for Panama, were Joseph Mason and Joshua Bickford.



CHAPTER XL

JOE'S WELCOME HOME

On arriving in New York both Joe and Mr. Bickford bought new suits of clothes. Mr. Bickford purchased a blue dress suit, resplendent with brass buttons, and a gold watch and chain, which made a good deal of show for the money. His tastes were still barbaric, and a quiet suit of black would not have come up to his idea of what was befitting a successful California miner.

He surveyed himself before the tailor's glass with abundant satisfaction.

"I guess that'll strike 'em at home, eh, Joe?" he said.

"You look splendid, Mr. Bickford."

"Kinder scrumptious, don't I?"

"Decidedly so."

"I say, Joe, you'd better have a suit made just like this."

Joe shuddered at the thought. In refinement of taste he was decidedly ahead of his friend and partner.

"I'm going to buy a second-hand suit," he said.

"What!" ejaculated Joshua.

Joe smiled.

"I knew you'd be surprised, but I'll explain. I want people to think at first that I have been unlucky."

"Oh, I see," said Joshua, nodding; "kinder take 'em in."

"Just so, Mr. Bickford."

"Well, there is something in that."

"Then I shall find out who my true friends are."

"Just so."

* * * * *

It is not my purpose to describe Mr. Bickford's arrival in Pumpkin Hollow, resplendent in his new suit. Joshua wouldn't have changed places with the President of the United States on that day. His old friends gathered about him, and listened open-mouthed to his stories of mining life in California and his own wonderful exploits, which lost nothing in the telling. He found his faithful Susan unmarried, and lost no time in renewing his suit. He came, he saw, he conquered!

In four weeks Susan became Mrs. Bickford, her husband became the owner of the farm he coveted, and he at once took his place among the prominent men of Pumpkin Hollow. In a few years he was appointed justice of the peace, and became known as Squire Bickford. It may be as well to state here, before taking leave of him, that his real estate investments in San Francisco proved fortunate, and in ten years he found himself worth ten thousand dollars. This to Joshua was a fortune, and he is looked upon as a solid man in the town where he resides.

We now turn to Joe.

Since his departure nothing definite had been heard of him. Another boy had taken his place on Major Norton's farm, but he was less reliable than Joe.

"I am out of patience with that boy. I wish I had Joe back again."

"Have you heard anything of Joe since he went away?" inquired Oscar.

"Not a word."

"I don't believe he went to California at all."

"In that case we should have heard from him."

"No, Joe's proud—poor and proud!" said Oscar. "I guess he's wished himself back many a time, but he's too proud to own it."

"Joe was good to work," said the major.

"He was too conceited. He didn't know his place. He thought himself as good as me," said Oscar arrogantly.

"Most people seemed to like Joe," said the major candidly.

"I didn't," said Oscar, tossing his head. "If he'd kept in his place and realized that he was a hired boy, I could have got along well enough with him."

"I wish he would come back," said the major. "I would take him back."

"I dare say he's had a hard time and would be humbler now," said Oscar.

At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and just afterward Joe entered.

He wore a mixed suit considerably the worse for wear and patched in two or three places. There was a rip under the arm, and his hat, a soft felt one, had become shapeless from long and apparently hard usage. He stood in the doorway, waiting for recognition.

"How do you do, Joe?" said Major Norton cordially. "I am glad to see you."

Joe's face lighted up.

"Thank you, sir," he said.

"Shake hands, Joe."

Major Norton was mean in money matters, but he had something of the gentleman about him.

Oscar held aloof.

"How do you do, Oscar?"

"I'm well," said Oscar. "Have you been to California?"

"Yes."

"You don't seem to have made your fortune," said Oscar superciliously, eying Joe's shabby clothing.

"I haven't starved," said Joe.

"Where did you get that suit of clothes?" asked Oscar.

"I hope you'll excuse my appearance," said Joe.

"Well, Joe, do you want to come back to your old place?" asked Major Norton. "I've got a boy, but he doesn't suit me."

"How much would you be willing to pay me, Major Norton?"

The major coughed.

"Well," said he, "I gave you your board and clothes before. That's pretty good pay for a boy."

"I'm older now."

"I'll do the same by you, Joe, and give you fifty cents a week besides."

"Thank you for the offer, Major Norton. I'll take till to-morrow to think of it."

"You'd better accept it now," said Oscar. "Beggars shouldn't be choosers."

"I am not a beggar, Oscar," said Joe mildly.

"You look like one, anyway," said Oscar bluntly.

"Oscar," said Major Norton, "if Joe has been unlucky, you shouldn't throw it in his teeth."

"He went off expecting to make his fortune," said Oscar, in an exulting tone. "He looks as if he had made it. Where are you going?"

"I am going to look about the village a little. I will call again."

After Joe went out Oscar said:

"It does me good to see Joe come in rags. Serves him right for putting on airs."

On the main street Joe met Annie Raymond.

"Why, Joe!" she exclaimed, delighted. "Is it really you?"

"Bad pennies always come back," said Joe.

"Have you—— I am afraid you have not been fortunate," said the young lady, hesitating as she noticed Joe's shabby clothes.

"Do you think less of me for that?"

"No," said Annie Raymond warmly. "It is you I like, not your clothes. You may have been unfortunate, but I am sure you deserved success."

"You are a true friend, Miss Annie, so I don't mind telling you that I was successful."

Annie Raymond looked astonished.

"And these clothes—" she began.

"I put on for Oscar Norton's benefit. I wanted to see how he would receive me. He evidently rejoiced at my bad fortune."

"Oscar is a mean boy. Joe, you must come to our house to supper."

"Thank you, I will; but I will go round to the hotel and change my clothes."

"Never mind."

"But I do mind. I don't fancy a shabby suit as long as I can afford to wear a good one."

Joe went to the hotel, took off his ragged clothes, put on a new and stylish suit which he recently had made for him, donned a gold watch and chain, and hat in the latest style, and thus dressed, his natural good looks were becomingly set off.

"How do I look now?" he asked, when he met Miss Annie Raymond at her own door.

"Splendidly, Joe. I thought you were a young swell from the city."

After supper Annie said, her eyes sparkling with mischief:

"Suppose we walk over to Major Norton's and see Oscar."

"Just what I wanted to propose."

Oscar was out in the front yard, when he caught sight of Joe and Annie Raymond approaching. He did not at first recognize Joe, but thought, like the young lady, that it was some swell from the city.

"You see I've come again, Oscar," said Joe, smiling.

Oscar could not utter a word. He was speechless with astonishment.

"I thought you were poor," he uttered, at last.

"I have had better luck than you thought."

"I suppose you spent all your money for those clothes."

"You are mistaken, Oscar. I am not so foolish. I left between two and three thousand dollars in a New York bank, and I have more than twice that in San Francisco."

"It isn't possible!" exclaimed Oscar, surprised and disappointed.

"Here is my bank-book; you can look at it," and Joe pointed to a deposit of twenty-five hundred dollars. "I don't think, Oscar, it will pay me to accept your father's offer and take my old place."

"I don't understand it. How did you do it?" asked the bewildered Oscar.

"I suppose it was my luck," said Joe.

"Not wholly that," said Annie Raymond. "It was luck and labor."

"I accept the amendment, Miss Annie."

Oscar's manner changed at once. Joe, the successful Californian, was very different from Joe, the hired boy. He became very attentive to our hero, and before he left town condescended to borrow twenty dollars of him, which he never remembered to repay. He wanted to go back to California with Joe, but his father would not consent.

When Joe returned to San Francisco, by advice of Mr. Morgan he sold out his restaurant to Watson and took charge of Mr. Morgan's real estate business. He rose with the rising city, became a very rich man, and now lives in a handsome residence on one of the hills that overlook the bay. He has an excellent wife—our old friend, Annie Raymond—and a fine family of children. His domestic happiness is by no means the smallest part of Joe's luck.



THE END