Indian and Scout: A Tale of the Gold Rush to California

JACK FETCHES THE RIFLES

"Now, ef that ain't madness!" cried Steve angrily. "Ef that ain't askin' fer a bullet!"

"And copyin' bad examples set by them as is old enough and ugly enough ter know better," growled Abe. "It's jest the answer ter yer own doin's, Steve, and Jack aer earned the thanks of all. Gee! As ef yer didn't ought ter know better."

He turned scornfully upon the little scout. Then a smile stole across his features, and stretching out a hand he gripped Steve's.

"Reckon ye'd some special call," he said simply.

There was a grim look on the little man's face as he took Abe's hand, a look which seemed to betoken that the cause for his sudden excitement and for his rashness was something beyond him, something he could hardly dare to think about.

"'Cause!" he said, in hollow tones, moistening his lips with his tongue, as if the words dried them. "'Cause——But this ain't the time to tell of Joe and his doin's. Reckon Jack aer done a fine thing ter help us. Jest get to with them rifles. Ah, them critters is tryin' another rush!"

The news was true. From the place to which they had retired the band of brigands suddenly broke into single elements, and came galloping towards the cart. As they came they sent a storm of bullets seething about it, chipping and perforating the woodwork, thudding into the bags, and hissing harmlessly overhead. Two minutes later they were within easy shot, when Jack and his comrades returned their fire, protecting their heads in the same manner; and so careful was their aim that two more of the enemy measured their full length on the ground. There were shouts of anger from those who remained. One galloped his horse recklessly right up to the cart, and was there shot dead by Jack's pistol, then the remainder turned tail and galloped away for their lives. And as they went another accompanied them. Unnoticed in the turmoil, the leader, who had fallen to Steve's shot, and who was undoubtedly sorely wounded, scrambled painfully to his feet and caught a horse belonging to a fallen comrade. He clambered unsteadily into the saddle, his mask falling from his face as he did so; and then, mustering all his failing strength, he stood up in his stirrups and shook his fist at the cart just as his comrades turned to fly.

"Steve," he shouted, "this is to warn you! I will kill you when the time comes."

Turning his horse, he clapped spurs to the flanks and galloped away. As he went a cry came from one of the inmates of the wagon. Jack rose to his feet shaking with excitement. He seemed to have caught it from Steve, so closely did it follow upon the attack which the little scout had displayed. Bending over the bags, shaking his fist furiously, he followed the movements of the escaping leader with staring eyes.

"The robber!" he shouted, tears almost in his voice. "The man for whom I have suffered. The robber! Stop him! I must take him back to Hopeville to tell his tale! It is he who should have been tried for that burglary!"

A Double Recognition

Utterly oblivious of his surroundings, of the friends who crowded in the cart at his side, Jack stood pressing forward against the bulwark of grass-stuffed sacks, his fingers clutching at the canvas, his attitude and expression betokening the greatest excitement. He was pale to the lips, save that a bright, hectic spot burned in each cheek, while, strangest thing of all, tears coursed from his eyes and dribbled down on his chin.

"Come back!" he shouted. "Come back! We will not fire! Come back and act like a man, if it be for the very last time."

But he might have shouted his words to the winds, for all the effect they may have had. Joe, the rascally leader of the brigands—for that seemed to be his name, since Steve had so called him—paid no attention to the calls. Crouched low in the saddle, wobbling dangerously from side to side on account of his weakness, he struck his mount savagely with the spur, and went tearing away after his comrades.

"And nothin'll stop the varmint till we put hand on him, and then he'll be up to tricks till the sheriff and his men has placed a rope about his neck and has swung him," growled Steve. "Come, lad," he went on in soothing tones, laying a restraining hand on Jack's shoulder. "Seems to me that you, too, ha' had cause ter hate that thar varmint. Wall, I thought as how I'd finished with him, same as he thought ter have done fer me, this many a year gone by. But I ain't sorry that the bullet didn't kill him, for by what you've said ye're in want of Joe's evidence. But don't count too much on it, Carrots. That 'ere man aer the cussedest, the wickedest, that ever lived in these parts, and that's the true thought of every man as has come ter really know him. Sit down. Let's have a smoke. Time enough ter git followin'. Tusker Joe aer hard hit, and reckon we'll take him."

"Tusker Joe! Tusker Joe!" Jack searched his memory. At the back of a mind, fully engaged with his own particular troubles, there loomed a certain recollection of that name. "Tusker Joe!"

"Ah!" In a flash it all came back to him. "You called him that?" he asked, turning on Steve and facing him eagerly. "Tell me, was he ever a miner? Did he work in these parts some few years ago, and was he notorious for anything in particular?"

"Jest get a grip of that 'ere pipe and pull at it," said Steve soothingly, coolly filling Jack's pipe and placing it between his lips. "Thar's the coal ter light it," he went on, stooping over the fire, and snatching a glowing ember with his fingers. "Now, boys, thar's hosses round about, and bags of gold. Let's get things tidied up, then we'll talk. Meanwhile me and Jack'll sit down. Me, because I'm wantin' a little bandagin', and Tom here'll do it fer me; and Carrots, 'cos he's shook up badly about some matter, and a man don't get the better of such troubles when he's all of a shake. We're jest agoin' ter have a dram apiece from the keg, and reckon, when you're finished clearin' things up, him and me'll be ready to talk, and fix what's to happen in the future."

As cool as any icicle, the little scout calmly filled and lit his own pipe, and then went for the small keg in which the party kept their supply of spirit. For, though abstemious himself, and conscious of the fact that Jack touched nothing of an alcoholic nature, Steve saw that something was necessary at the moment to help to pull his young comrade together. Jack, indeed, was far more agitated than he had ever been in his whole life. Not even when first accused of that burglary, and weighed down with the desperate feeling of his own innocence and helplessness, had he shown so much emotion. But it is often a fact that while a man can face danger and difficulty, can endure hardship, wrongful accusation, and even unmerited imprisonment and punishment, with a certain amount of stoicism, yet, when relief suddenly comes in sight, when there suddenly and unexpectedly appears upon the scene that something for which he has longed—oh, so much and so continuously!—his stoicism and fortitude evaporate, the revulsion of feeling overwhelms him, and in a moment he is changed from a strong man, nobly supporting his burdens, to a child, helplessly weak.

So it was with our hero. A cloud seemed to have risen suddenly in front of his eyes, a cloud which upset his vision, which turned him giddy, and mastered every fibre in his active body. He sat down trembling, obediently drank the contents of the pannikin which Steve offered him, and then mechanically sucked at his pipe. As for Steve, he doled out a dram for himself, and, having drained the tin, lay down to rest and watch his young friend. Meanwhile Tom and Abe collected five horses left by the brigands, laid the bodies of those killed side by side, and inspected their own belongings.

"It tots up handsome," exclaimed Abe at length, rejoining Steve and Jack. "We started in with our own hosses and the animals. Now we've got five fresh mounts that'll fetch a nice sum; six revolvers that belonged ter them varmint; and, as if that warn't enough, thar's two bags of real gold dust in thar amongst them bags stuffed with grass. Reckon they was laid thar to open and show, in case you was too suspicious."

Steve went off into a roar of laughter at the news, for he was wonderfully light-hearted now that his excitement had died down.

"I never knew a band of rascals so taken in and knocked about," he cried. "And ter think as they've left us gold dust ter add to our own, instead of takin' ours! Wall, I did think ter ax that 'ere Ted ef it was real gold as he had in them bags, and ef he'd mind my squinting at it. But then, when I come to think it out, I seed that ter do that would be ter raise suspicions. He'd get thinking that I wasn't satisfied with his yarn. That would ha' made him more wideawake, instead of so cocksure that all was panning out as he wished. Then, guess we shouldn't have managed ter get ter that cart, and——"

"We should ha' been thar," said Tom grimly, pointing to the bodies laid reverently side by side.

"And now we've got ter fix what ter do," cried Steve, becoming matter of fact. "Thar's the gold to be thought of, thar's the chaps as has gone down, and in course there's bound ter be an enquiry. And, last of all, thar's them as got away. Wall?"

He turned to Abe, as if seeking an inspiration from him. The big, bony scout, reddened with exposure to the sun, and looking the strong, courageous man he was, spoke out without hesitation. His life, like that of his comrades, allowed of no hesitation. Decisions had to be come to on the spot, without delay; for often enough a life was concerned.

"Huh! There ain't two ways about it," he exclaimed gruffly. "The nearest settlement is jest three hours' ride from here, and sense ye're wounded ye'll be the one ter sit right here and keep guard. Me and Tom and Carrots'll push on quick, and place the gold in the bank. We'll warn the sheriff, too, and by evenin' we'll be back along with yer, bringing a tidy few of the boys that we'll pick up. It stands to reason that others has suffered from these varmint wuss than we have, and when they hear that the band has had a knock, they'll be out ter make an end of 'em. Wall, then, we'll get on their tracks by evenin', and ter-morrow night those of 'em as is wounded, and I've a notion that aer the case with all that's left, will ha' been surrounded and took. That's whar you and Jack comes in."

There was common sense in the arrangement, and at once preparations for departure were made. Tom set to work to prepare breakfast, for none had touched food so far, and as soon as that was finished the three friends would leave Steve behind and make for the settlements.

"And afore yer go we've got ter discuss this other matter," said Steve, nursing his wounded arm, which Jack had bandaged for him. "Thar aer this feller Tusker Joe. Now, I don't want ter ax fer any confidences, but Carrots here ha' said enough ter let us know somethin' of what's been on his mind. I've said afore now that thar was a man somewhars in America as would shoot me on sight, and fer whom I'd do the same ef I catched him. Wall, seems that that same man aer the one fer whom Jack ha' been searching. That so?"

He turned bluntly to our hero with his question.

"You have hit the right nail on the head," he answered simply. "That man, Tusker Joe, has indeed had a great deal to do with my life. I will tell you all about it. But first let us have Steve's tale."

It was an eager trio which bent towards the little scout to listen, and sorely was their patience tried as Steve filled his pipe nonchalantly, and, staring at the ground, took ample time to refresh his memory.

"Wall, you shall have it," he said, "and short and to the point. It's a dozen years ago, maybe a little more, when I came over the mountains ter try my luck in the diggin's. And luck came my way right from the beginnin'. I struck it rich, and seemed ter have a fortune in my hand, when a fever took me, and what with nussing, and sichlike, what I'd earned precious near went altogether. But thar was enough ter make a second start, and soon I was peggin' a claim down in another gully that had got a reputation fer richness. Thar was five hundred miners thar, and one of 'em was Tusker Joe. He'd come fresh that way, so he said, was lookin' fer a partner, and, havin' a bit of gold with him, was ready and willin' ter pay fer a share."

"The same tale!" cried Jack, interrupting the little scout. "But go along, Steve, I have heard the tale before. Tusker Joe practised the very same method in another part. I can almost tell you what happened."

"Then you can tell of the most ruffianly thing as ever a man did. Mates, if a man pals up with another, and they become partners, it don't say as thar won't be quarrels. Rows do occur. I've seen 'em, and seen shootin' follow. But partners don't murder one another. They don't go behind the back of a man whose hand they've shook friendly an hour before, and let off a gun right at 'em. That are the work of an utter scoundrel."

There was indignation in Steve's voice, and the words he uttered brought sympathetic grunts of agreement from Tom and Abe.

"Reckon a chap like that aer one of the worst men that's ter be found," cried Abe. "This Tusker Joe, he war the man? Eh? He did the shootin'?"

Steve nodded curtly.

"We'd struck it rich. Leastwise, I had, fer he pretended ter be ill, and didn't work. Thar was a store of gold dust that was worth the havin'. Wall, this here critter, all friendly as one would think, stepped down to our claim one evenin' when it war almost dark, and when all the other miners had gone back to their shanties.

"How's luck?" he asks, setting down.

"Same as afore," I answered. "This here claim's rich. It'll pan out handsome fer us, and then it'll sell when we're tired of it."

"'Good,'" he says, "and then, all of a sudden, I knew nothing more."

"Shot?" demanded Tom in a whisper.

"From behind," answered Steve, flicking the ash from the bowl of his pipe. "See thar. That's where the bullet caught me."

He turned his head and pointed to a long, white streak behind the right ear.

"Enough ter kill a man," he proceeded, "but Steve aer a hard nut."

The very thought made the little scout chuckle. "A hard nut," he repeated. "Tusker reckoned he'd wiped me out, but he hadn't, and, what's more, he didn't have another chance, fer some miners happened ter be passing. But he cleared from that 'ere camp with every ounce of dust we'd gained, and with my bag of dollars into the bargain. Gentlemen, when a man gets treated like that he takes an oath, and when the time comes round, as come it must, he 'lows as he has a sorter right ter shoot on sight the ruffian what's left him fer dead. Ter kinder execute him. That aer the long and the short of the story."

The pipe went to the mouth, the cheeks caved in a little as he sucked, and then a cloud of smoke emerged from the hunter's lips.

"I aer acted up ter that oath," he said quietly. "Reckon no one can blame me."

"Not the sheriff hisself," growled Abe. "Even ef this Tusker chap hadn't been one of the band as attacked us, and ye'd hit up face ter face with him in the settlements, yer had a right, accordin' ter minin' law, ter shoot him down without warnin'. Steve, it aer clear that it war meant fer you ter get the best of this here Tusker. Reckon his chances of gettin' off ain't worth a how of chips."

"I will follow him till my horse drops, or until he shoots me."

It was Jack who had spoken, and as his three comrades turned to look at him, they saw on the face of the young fellow who had worked so well and so cheerily with them such decision and determination that all but Steve were astonished.

"You ain't seen Carrots like that afore," explained Steve, "but I have. I mind the time when he treated me as ef I war a kid, and started in with his orders. Jack aer got some better reason than I have fer following Tusker. Out with it, lad."

"Then listen." Briefly, bluntly, Jack told the tale of his own father's death, how a man named Tusker Joe had entered into partnership with him at the mines, had picked a quarrel with him when gold dust in considerable quantity had been obtained, and, having shot him down in a saloon after the pretence of a quarrel, had decamped with all the gold.

"Then you ha' got good reason fer following this here scoundrel of a Tusker," cried Abe. "Reckon when a man's father aer shot down like that, the son has got ter have a say with his murderer. I ain't one as believes in revenge. Thar's One above"—the sunburned scout swept his hat from his head for a moment and paused—"thar's One above as sees ter sech matters as that as a general rule. But ef a father's killed in cold blood, it aer plainly the duty of his son ter find the murderer and hand him over to justice. Jack, give us yer fist. I'm proud ter know as ye've been a good son."

Each in turn gripped his hand, for rough scouts such as these were could and did appreciate fine qualities in other people. Already Jack's willingness to work, his unfailing good temper and his common sense, had won their esteem, while the tale of his behaviour when Steve was incapacitated had not failed to leave its impression on them. Believing that he had come to California with one object in view, and that to discover his father's murderer, they felt he was a man they could honour, though in years he had not reached man's estate. But Jack quickly undeceived them.

"Stop!" he cried peremptorily. "You are mistaken. I did not come to California to discover my father's murderer. It was another man I was thinking of. I came this way to escape the law; for, my friends, I am a runaway prisoner."

In a few words he told them of the misfortune which had befallen him, how he had been put on his trial, and how, despairing of obtaining evidence which would acquit him, he had bolted from the prison, with the object first of making himself secure from the officers of the law, and, when that was securely accomplished, with the firm determination of hunting for that man who had come to the smithy in Hopeville, and for whom he had forged that fatal key.

"Gentlemen," he cried, "that is the man I have been searching for, with the feeling all this while that some day or other I should drop across him. It was to clear myself from the accusation wrongly put upon me that I came to California, and at last I have seen the man. Strange though it may seem to you—almost unbelievable—yet it is the truth indeed. That ruffian who murdered my father is the identical man who, a few years later, induced me to forge a key, and for whose crime I was placed in the dock. I have double reason to follow and take him."

"Thunder!" shouted Steve.

"Ef that don't walk right away with the prize!" growled Abe, his teeth closing with a sharp click on the stem of his pipe.

"And ye've got as good cause, better still, ter shoot the ruffian when next yer set eyes on him," exclaimed Tom. "Jack, it aer clear as it aer fer you ter deal with this here Tusker Joe. Steve has a call, and he's already had an innings. Reckon it aer fer him ter stand back a while and let yer have a turn."

"No. I would not harm a hair of his head," responded Jack solemnly. "Listen here, mates. If I got to shooting this man, where, then, should I be able to obtain evidence of my own innocence? I should destroy it myself, and with that evidence goes all hope of my ever clearing myself, or of my being able at any time to return to Hopeville and the State of New York."

"Right! Right to a 'T'," cried Steve. "The lad aer dead on it when he says that, and I'll tell yer. Ef we meets that man, or any of the others yer hope ter bring back with yer from the settlements, then thar ain't ter be any shootin'. He's got ter be taken alive. And afore any sheriff kin hang him he aer got ter come out with a confession. Mates, in these parts it's lynch law. Ef a man robs another way back in settled parts he gets imprisonment. Ef he does the same in Californy, amongst the diggin's, or away on the plains, he gets short shrift—trial out in the open, jedgment by the sheriff, ef there happens ter be one, and ef thar don't, then by his mates; and in the last case, ef he's declared guilty, he's shot out of hand or strung up ter a tree. That's what'll happen ter Tusker. But, first of all, he's got ter make that confession."

"And the sooner we follow him and his mates the better," cried Abe. "Let's git. So long, Steve! we'll be back aginst evenin'."

They strapped their bags of gold on the horses, and, leading the captured animals, set off at a brisk trot, leaving Steve comfortably seated before the fire. Some three hours later they reached the township for which they had been aiming, and promptly proceeded to the bank, where the gold was carefully weighed out before their eyes, its value appraised, and a receipt given for it. Then Abe led the way to the sheriff's residence.

"We've come on business," he said in his blunt, direct fashion. "We come up agin Tusker Joe and his band last night, and nigh dropped into a muss. They'd set a trap for us, and thought ter take us nicely. But they hadn't ter do with miners only on this occasion. We're all hunters and scouts, leastwise with the exception of Jack here. We seed thar was something queer, and when they opened with their game we was ready, so it's Tusker and his men as fell inter the muss. Thar's five killed, and t'others is hurt I should say. Tusker's nigh killed."

"Then you have broken up the band. Gee! That aer good," said the sheriff, who had been a miner before he attained to his present position. "That Tusker's been the terror of the camps fer the last three months. They'd heard of him before out in these parts, and, ef tales aer true, he ought to ha' been had up fer murder. But once he reached the diggin's, whether he was wanted fer murder or not, he soon got wanted fer other crimes. He and his gang has held up a sight of gold convoys, and they have killed a goodish few men. Whar have they gone?"

"That's a question thar ain't no answering, boss," said Abe promptly; "but we're game ter follow, and I'll tell yer why."

Promptly he proceeded to tell the sheriff of Steve's acquaintance with Tusker Joe, of the murder of Jack's father, and, finally, of the burglary which the rascal had committed, and for which our hero had very nearly suffered condemnation to a long term of imprisonment.

"It aer clear that the man has ter be caught," added Abe, "and that fer the sake of Jack here he has got ter be taken alive."

"Jest hop in and take a cup of coffee, gentlemen," said the sheriff. "The news you bring is the best I have had for many a long day, for this Tusker has been the terror of the roads. I'll go and see a few of my friends, and I think I shall be able to persuade some of them to ride with us."

An hour later no fewer than fifteen men set off from the township with Jack and his friends, the sheriff and Abe riding at their head. The delay in the departure had enabled Tom to find a buyer for the horses, so that, beyond Steve's injury, the little party was substantially better off after their affray with the brigands than they were before. That evening, as the shades were lengthening, they rode up to the stranded cart, to discover Steve smoking his pipe placidly and warming himself in front of the fire.

"Not a soul has passed the camp all day," he reported, "so I set to ter get on the tracks of them 'ere fellers. Ef it's the same to you all, gentlemen, we'll have a feed and then push on. The moon'll be up by nine, and thar ain't any reason why we shouldn't make the most of the light. Tusker won't be expecting such haste, most like, and so thar'll be a better chance of taking him."

Accordingly the party slipped from their saddles, slackened their girths, and, having watered the horses, sat down to a substantial meal. Two hours later they mounted again, and, led by Steve, who carried his injured arm in a sling, they trotted beneath the rays of the moon down the straggling road, and, some three miles along it, turned on to the grass border, and struck across towards the mountains which cut across the skyline.

"Somewhars up thar you'll find Tusker Joe, the murderer, and his mates," said Steve solemnly, pointing to the mountains.

Steve Leads the Way

Weirdly strange were the shadows cast by the moonlight upon the earth as the party of miners and hunters turned from the road towards the mountains. The huge gleaming and silvery orb hung in a cloudless sky, typical of gorgeous California, and cast her beams from a point behind the party, so that the shadows of the horses danced in front of the men, thin, and angular, and misshapen, and stretching so far in advance that the lines of the horses they rode, actually so pleasant to look upon, were transfigured and made hideous and absurd. Above these same shadows were those of the men, jogging this way and that, topped by a sombrero, and often enough by a sharp-cut shadow, denoting the rifle the man carried.

"The gun that's got ter do with Tusker," said Steve as Jack trotted along beside him. "I believe ef it warn't fer men of his breed, and fer the saloons and the bad spirit that's sold in 'em, thar wouldn't be no need fer weapons out here, save, in course, fer use agin them Injun varmints. Fer California ain't free of them altogether, and ef it war, and we was unarmed, the critters would be pourin' over the ranges in their thousands, huntin' fer scalps. Boys, jest take a word o' warnin' from one as has been on games same as this afore. Don't ride in a bunch. Scatter, and spread yerselves out. Then, ef there's a man 'way up thar with his gun ter his shoulder, the chances aer he'll miss. Savvy?"

The men did savvy. The band who were riding out to capture the last of the gang of ruffians who had terrorized that part of the goldfields, and between them had committed many murders, was composed of individuals with an abundance of experience. For, as Steve had said earlier on, California was infested by brigands and ruffians of the worst description, who preyed upon the miners, and against whom the strictest measures were necessary. There were constant alarms, gold convoys were often held up, and not infrequently the sheriff was compelled to call upon the citizens of some little place to ride with him with the object of exterminating some of the ruffians. So it happened that there were always men to be found who had accompanied such expeditions, and who, therefore, knew what precautions to take, and how necessary it was to use cunning and care when approaching the enemy.

"Jest wait a bit," cried Steve after a while, when the party had traversed some three miles of the grass-grown plain and were already on the foothills. "It ain't so easy ter slide from yer saddle when ye've an arm in a sling. But I kin do it if the hoss aer still. Now then, mates, ef one of yer'll lead that hoss I'll shift along on foot and follow the trail. Thar ain't no difficulty hereabouts, fer a child could see their marks. But we're comin' ter rocky parts, and then it'll be a conundrum."

Half an hour later the climb had become steeper, though not too much so for the horses. But what Steve had mentioned had already occurred. They were on rocky ground, though some herbage appeared amidst the boulders. But as yet the little scout, his eye fixed upon the trail, went steadily upward and onward, never hesitating for the particle of a second.

"They know as well as I do thet any chap could follow so far," he said after a while. "Thar ain't no finding a road free of grass and soft places hereabouts. But up thar it'll be different. Then we shall have ter nose round a bit, and even then we're pretty safe ter be bothered."

It was not until they had traversed another mile, and were approaching very steep ground, that Steve raised his hand, and brought the whole party to a halt.

"Jest as I expected," he cried, dropping on hands and knees, and managing to scramble along in spite of his damaged arm. "Them artful critters rode this far, and then halted ter look around and choose a safe line. There ain't a blade of grass above us, and, in course, they've gone right on. But they may ha' turned ter the right or ter the left, and this here mountain aer long enough ter give 'em shelter and a hidin' place whichever way they go. Mates, jest stand fer a bit. Thar may be a trace, and it'd be best not ter override it. Abe, slip outer yer saddle and take a look round."

It was ten minutes before either of the scouts ventured to speak, meanwhile the remainder of the party dismounted, and, hitching their reins over their shoulders, filled their pipes and lit them. Steve and Abe, often on hands and knees, covered the ground in circles, and seemed as if they would continue in the same occupation, till of a sudden a cry came from Abe.

"Helloo!" he shouted. "Jest hop along up here. Here's somethin'."

It proved to be a dark stain on a patch of whitish pebbles, and both he and Steve pronounced it without a moment's hesitation to be a blood stain.

"That 'ere Tusker," declared Steve with a grunt. "He was feelin' queerish, most like, and called a halt. He rolled out of his saddle and lay jest here till one of his mates come and picked him up. Yer can see thar was more than one. Them stones is kicked about. This aer a find! I 'low as I war bothered back thar. Them critters seemed ter have clean slipped off into air."

"Reckon they took this line ter the right," answered Abe, "and I've a sorter notion that we'll be able ter follow, fer seems ter me as there's more of them stains. Maybe one of the hosses is hurt, and aer leavin' a trail as he goes."

In a little while Jack and his friends did indeed have displayed before them an example which many might take to heart. He and the little band of pursuers had arrived at a part where, if the enemy were cunning, as they undoubtedly were, they ought to be able to disappear without leaving so much as a track, a broken blade of grass, or a hoof-print to guide those who followed. Yet, with all their caution, a clear trail was left, though they knew nothing of it. For one of the horses, shot in the leg perhaps, imprinted a blood-stained hoof every yard of the way they had followed, making pursuit to men like Steve and Abe a simple matter. It was an indication of the fact that, while circumstances may for a while be favourable to evil-doers, sooner or later there comes some unforeseen event which trips them up.

"I've know'd a thing same as this afore," said Steve. "It war after one of them Injun raids 'way over them mountains, when the critters had come out on the warpath without so much as a warnin'. Wall, they killed and scalped every man, woman, and child as they could drop on, and fired the settlers' farms over fifty miles. George Trueman, he war a settler, and it seems he'd been 'way over the border ter see a man as was lookin' ter buy cattle. He comed back ter find the farm a mass of blackened cinders, his cattle gone, and the box as he kept his dollars in taken clear away. Trueman war wild. He war fixed up ter get married, and though he could put up with the burnin' of the farm, the loss of the money would pretty nigh ruin him. Yer kin guess what happened."

"Followed the critters, I suppose," suggested Abe.

"Sure. Got a band o' men together, same as we aer, and sets off. Wall, I war one of the band, and pretty soon I gets on ter a trail like this, made by a hoss that war wounded, but not so bad as he couldn't go. That trail ran on fer thirty mile, till you'd have thought the hoss would ha' fallen dead, and in the end we dropped into them critters, and George recovered the money."

"While this time we recover the man," laughed Abe. "Jest you hop into yer saddle agin, Steve. Ye'll ride easy thar, and it don't do that arm no good walkin' in these rough places. Reckon I kin follow the trail."

Thanks to the spots of blood, sometimes scattered sparsely on the stones, and at others imprinted in the form of a hoof Abe was able to stride along without a halt. For an hour he led the party without turning aside. Then suddenly he faced up the mountain, and began to clamber.

"Them critters brought their hosses up," he cried over his shoulder, "so guess yer kin do the same. But the goin' aer bad, and ye'd best be skeary, and look out fer holes."

The place was, in fact, difficult for horses, and it needed much care on the part of the riders to take them up such a steep and rough place. However, it was not long before the ground sloped a little less steeply, and then became almost flat. Abe led the way across this without a falter, and very soon Jack became aware of the fact that he and his friends were actually descending.

"A kinder hollow," explained Steve. "Precious soon things'll be happenin'."

Scarcely five minutes had elapsed, in fact, before the nerves of these hardy miners and hunters were somewhat startled by a loud report. A single shot rang out from some point in advance, and high up above them, while one of the horses squealed, plunged heavily, and then stood shivering and shaking.

"Wall, of all the critters!" cried one of the miners, slipping from the injured animal's back. "I didn't think as a man could see us down here in the hollow, let alone train a gun on us. Reckon it war lucky we war all spread out. Gently, lass. Yer ain't badly hurt. This here aer no wuss than a pinprick. The ball catched her two inches from her withers, on the very edge of the neck. It ain't worth mentionin', old gal."

He patted his mount soothingly, and soon had her in a happier frame of mind. Then, dropping the reins on her neck, he left her to herself, and within less than half a minute she was seeking for grass tufts amongst the boulders. Meanwhile the other men had dismounted, while Steve and Abe discussed matters with the sheriff.

Bang! From a point some seventy yards above the heads of the party, and a considerable distance away, there rang out another report, while a splotch of flame leaped from the mountain side. But it was gone in a moment; and when Jack fixed his eyes in that direction it was to see merely brown rocks and boulders tumbled haphazard on the mountain side, and all bathed in the rays of the moon, rays which gave a ghostly, eerie appearance to the surroundings. As for the bullet which had been discharged, it hummed through the air, striking a rock at our hero's feet with a resounding clang, and afterwards glissading off into space, where the ricochetting object set up a piercing scream that added to the uncanny effect produced by the moonbeams.

"And no one hurt. That's luck!" sang out the sheriff. "Now, gentlemen, it aer clear that them fellers way up thar ha' got the drop on us. Down here the moon throws our shadows, and, even ef they can't see us, a shadow is close enough ter aim at, and is bound to bring a bullet precious near before long. Leave the hosses and make fer the hill. Thar ain't no use waitin'."

"None," agreed Steve promptly. "Ef we stay down here, sooner or later, as Mr. Sheriff says, some of us'll be gettin' in the way of a bullet, and that ain't sense. But, seems to me, we might spare three or four who aer good shots ter lie down amongst these boulders and give them critters a shot whenever they show whar they aer located. Thet'll keep 'em from payin' us too much attention."

The trusty little scout was not the one to neglect or to forget a precaution at such a moment, and his advice was hailed with eagerness. It was dangerous work this pursuit of criminals, and more often than not men were killed; for the rascals who infested the goldfields knew what capture meant. It ended, in nearly every instance, in a hasty trial and summary execution. Consequently there was no thought of giving in. The contest was always one almost to the death.

"Supposin' Steve stays right here," sang out Abe. "He ain't no good fer climbing with that arm of his, and, sence it's his left, he'll be able ter hold a gun with his right and rest it on a boulder. Lively does it, mates. Ef we stay jawin', them critters'll soon be gettin' the range of some of us."

As he finished speaking, as if to impress his words upon the band of pursuers, four shots rang out from the mountain side above them, and again was heard the thud of bullets, while splinters of stone were scattered broadcast.

"Wall, get to it, Steve," called out the sheriff, "and you too, Bill Hendy and Frank Gorman. Let 'em see as you know how ter pepper 'em with lead, and keep at it with your guns till we're pretty close and handy. Thar ain't any fear of your shootin' into us, 'cos the moon's that bright yer can see easy. So long! Make it hot for them scoundrels."

Promptly Steve and the two men detailed for the work dropped on their faces amidst the boulders, and, each selecting a large rock which was high enough to give him shelter from bullets fired from above, proceeded to unsling his rifle. Nor was it long before the opportunity came to them to fire. Once more the same red splotch of flame spurted from the mountain side. It was answered almost instantly by three shots from below, and within the space of half a minute by an echoing scream from above. Then a dark, ill-defined figure started up from the mountain side, and for a moment a man stood erect, his shadow cast on the brown earth and rocks behind him. One arm was raised above his head, and the rays of the moon showed that the hand gripped a rifle. Thus he stood for a few seconds, as if staring down into the hollow where Steve and his mates lay. Then, pitching forward suddenly, he fell headlong, bringing an avalanche of smaller stones and boulders chasing after him.

"Fetched him," said Steve coolly. "Thar ain't no sayin' whose shot it war. Reckon me and these two mates of mine ha' had occasion to fire in similar sarcumstances afore. I give him a range jest a foot below the flame of his rifle, and I guess it fetched him. Ah! There's another of them."

One after another the shots rang out from the mountain side, while Steve and his friends replied as rapidly as they could. While they did so, Jack and the others raced from the hollow and, using hands and feet, clambered up the steep slope. Not a sound came from their ranks, for all their breath was required for the task before them. They never paused to look above them, nor noticed when the defenders of the position stood out from their lair and discharged their rifles at them. They clambered steadily and quickly upward, leaving the three friends below to look to their defence, and to pour in such a fire that the rascals would not dare to expose themselves.

"There they are! Close in on them!"

In his eagerness to come upon the ruffianly Tusker Joe, and capture him, Jack forged ahead of the others. He was younger than they and more agile, and, without being aware of the fact, had rapidly outstripped them. And now he suddenly came upon the lurking place of the enemy. Clambering round a boulder of unusual proportions, he came to a level spot, a narrow pathway which ran on either hand till it was lost on the face of the steep slope. Here, some six yards to his left, four men were crouching, one of them being in the act of firing down at the hollow as he looked.

"Rush them! Down with them!" Jack shouted. "But don't shoot Tusker."

Careless of the consequences, blinded to his own danger by the excitement of the moment, and urged to strenuous exertion by the ever-present thought that here, almost in his own hands, was the evidence for which he sought, Jack raced along the ledge, dashed into the centre of the group of men, and became engaged at once in a desperate struggle. A man seemed to rise up before him, and in a moment they were locked together in an embrace which nothing but the death or disablement of one or other would terminate. They stood on the very edge of the ledge, the steep slope running away precipitously below them, and swayed to and fro, swayed so far over the edge that it looked as if they must lose their footing and fall.

As they staggered this way and that, others of the gang of desperadoes clubbed their rifles and made every effort to bring the butts crashing on to Jack's head. But always some frantic twist or turn of the combatants, some violent change of position on his part, upset their aim and caused them to fail in their object.

Meanwhile Steve and his two friends below had ceased firing, and stood watching the contest with staring eyes. For the little scout the moments dragged heavily. The struggle he witnessed up there on the mountain side was more than momentous. It stirred him to the deepest depths, for he had more than a friendly feeling for our hero.

"Back him up!" he bellowed, placing his hands to his mouth. "Can't yer see we can't help him. Git to and rush them, or they'll kill him. Gosh! Ef only I war there. I'd——"

He came to a sudden stop and stood rooted to the spot, his heart in his mouth, a sudden and unusual feeling of depression about him. For help had not yet reached our hero. The brilliant rays of the moon showed the other members of the band of pursuers almost within reach of the ledge, but not quite there. It showed also the figures of five men struggling furiously on the mountain side, and one of those from his height and build was undoubtedly our hero. The mob of men seemed to be thrusting him from the ledge, and as Steve stared he saw Jack striking out valiantly with his fists, for the man who had gripped him had suddenly let go his hold. Then there was a shout, and one of the rascals attacking him leaped forward and wound his arms round Jack's body. Steve shut his eyes and shuddered.

"Gone," he thought. "They'll throw him down."

But no. When he looked again the position of affairs had not altered. Jack was there, on the very edge of the ledge, staggering to and fro in the arms of the ruffian who had gripped him. While the others had of a sudden turned their attention to the pursuers who were now within striking distance. There came on a sudden the sharp, distinctive snap of a pistol, and then a shout from Steve which awoke the echoes. For Jack had disappeared. A second before he and his antagonist had been poised on the edge of the ledge. Now they were gone, there came only the clatter and rattle of boulders and stones which came rolling and leaping down the mountain side.

"Killed!" groaned Steve. "Thar ain't a doubt but that they've done for him."

"Not they. Jest let's go and look for him," sang out Bill Hendy. "I've knowed a man fall heavier and farther by far than that, and have nary a scratch ter show fer it. 'Sides, he's young, and young bones take a deal of breakin'. He warn't shot, that I'll swear. It war the sheriff's shot as ended the struggle."

His mind full of doubt and misgiving, and yet, with his accustomed courage, still hopeful that Jack would prove to have escaped, Steve led the way up the mountain side till he reached a spot some forty feet below the ledge on which the brigands had taken refuge. And there they found our hero, wedged in between two boulders, breathing very shallowly, and quite unconscious. Beneath him lay the body of the man who had held him so firmly in his embrace.

"Dead?" asked Steve, hardly daring to ask or to touch our hero.

"No more nor you nor me," came the hearty answer. "Jest knocked silly, which ain't ter be wondered at, seein' as he's fell nigh fifty feet. Reckon this here fellow saved the fall for him. He's dead. Dead as mutton."

"Not a bone broken, or I am much mistaken," exclaimed Steve, running his hands over Jack's limbs, for in his eagerness and anxiety the little scout had slipped his wounded arm from the sling. "Stunned. Then he'll take no harm. He'll sleep well to-night, and to-morrow he'll eat as good a breakfast as ever he did. Wall, mates, what's the tale?"

The contest was entirely over by now, and, within five feet of the spot where Jack lay, one of the miners was seated on a rock stolidly smoking, while a companion bandaged up an ugly wound in his thigh.

"Jest a snap shot, like," he explained pleasantly to Steve as he sucked at his pipe. "Thought he was downed and done fer. But he warn't, the critter! He sits up sudden and let's fly, then dropped back as dead as t'others."

"Then you finished 'em?" asked Steve.

"There was five beside Tusker Joe," explained the sheriff, coming up at the moment. "I got in a shot at the man who had collared young Jack, and I dessay you saw 'em both come tumbling. Then two more was shot and wounded afore yer could count the seconds. But they got clear away in the scuffle. A fourth fell to a ball fired from one of you three as we was mounting the hill, while the fifth got hit by a ricochet. Anyway, when we arrived, there he war lyin' insensible beside Tusker."

"And him? He's dead too?" asked Steve, anxiety in his voice.

"Jest livin'. Played out after ridin' so far after sich a wound. He'll go ef we ain't careful."

"And with his life all chance of Jack gettin' his evidence," cried Steve. "See here, Sheriff, it means a hull lot fer this young friend of mine, and seein' what's happened I feel I kin count on you and the other mates ter help. We'll send along fer a surgeon, and meanwhile rig up a cover fer Tusker and the other man. Ef tryin'll do it, we'll save the man who killed Jack's father and then led the young chap hisself into sech a scrape. I can kinder count on you?"

"Yer kin," was the emphatic answer. "You and your special mates have saved us a hull heap. Tusker and his gang were a real terror, and we and other folks are grateful. In course we'll stay. As soon as the mornin' comes we'll fix up a shanty, and meanwhile I'll send one of the men back to the settlement."

They were a practical lot, those miners and scouts, and in a little while one of them was speeding from the spot mounted on the best horse and leading another. Meanwhile Jack was laid on some piled-up blankets, where he quickly recovered consciousness, for he was merely stunned by the fall.

"You aer jest ter lie thar as ef you was properly dead," smiled Steve. "That'll bring yer round sooner than anything. Thar's some coffee in my haversack, and in a while, when thar's been time to get a fire goin', we'll brew some of it extry strong. It'll clear yer head. A good sound sleep after that aer all that's wanted."

The little scout had picked up a fund of information in a practical school. His was the class of knowledge which, combined with a vast amount of experience and with common sense beyond the ordinary, is of real service in such cases as Jack's. It was not with him a little dangerous knowledge, as is sometimes the case.

"We aer got ter be particular careful with this here Tusker," he said, when Jack was securely tucked in his blanket. "His life are more valuable I guess than even Jack's, and thet's sayin' something, fer the lad thar aer a bright one. Let's jest have a look at the man."

They carried the wounded and unconscious robber into the shadow cast by a rock, and there Steve carefully inspected his wound.

"Plumb in the chest," he said, as he opened the shirt, and rolled Tusker over. "It aer clear that the bullet has broke through into the lung, and as fer as I can see it don't make much odds whether it's gone right through or remained inside. But we'll make sure."

By dint of the greatest care he and the man who was helping him rolled Tusker over still farther, only to discover that the ball which had struck him in the chest had wounded the lung, but had failed to emerge. It seemed, indeed, at first sight, as if there was little left for such inexperienced surgeons to do save to place the man in a comfortable position, shield him from the sun, and await his return to consciousness. But Steve was a knowing little fellow.

"I tell yer his life's extry valuable," he said, standing up beside his patient, "and we are got to move ef we want to save it. Not that he aer likely ter pull through. Reckon this aer Tusker's last call. Now, mate, lend a hand. We'll put some sort of a dressing on the wound, and then, seeing as he's still losing blood, we'll have ter make shift ter stop it. Yer see, it ain't the bleeding from the outside wound that matters. It's what's coming from the lung."

This important fact had not escaped Steve and his comrade. There was a deathly pallor about the robber chief which showed that he was desperately hurt, and that the hæmorrhage had already been severe. Then, too, the corners of his mouth were discoloured, while a few red drops hung on his chin.

"It stands ter reason," said Steve, speaking as if he were arguing the matter out with himself, "that nature aer doing her best ter help Tusker. He aer scarcely breathing, fer the simple reason thet ef he was moving his chest same as you and me, and with it his lung, why the movement of the one that's wounded would make the loss of blood even wuss. Thet bein' so, we'll take a lesson from nature. Lend a hand. Reckon we'll roll him on ter the side that's damaged. The weight of his body will hold the ribs still, and so rest the wounded lung."

Very carefully and tenderly did they set to work. An old but clean piece of linen was folded to form a dressing, and was saturated with clean, cold water. This was firmly secured to the wound in the chest by another strip of linen. Then a long pad was made with the help of a handkerchief, and some soft grass, and, having laid their pad over the dressing and its bandage, and round the chest, Steve cleverly passed a saddle girth under his patient, brought it round over the pad, and pulled it taut, till it seemed that he would arrest all movement of the ribs. Then the patient was gently rolled on to his wounded side again.

"Thet aer takin' a lesson from Mother Nature," said Steve, surveying Tusker with some satisfaction. "He is still losing blood from the lung, as you kin see from what's coming from his lips. But that 'ere girth, and layin' him on his side, will quieten the movements of his chest, and jest give him a chance. Gee! I never worked harder to save a man. I feel as anxious about him as ef he war my father, and, I kin tell yer, it means a hull heap ter young Jack thar ef Tusker pulls round."

No two nurses could have tended a patient with greater care and devotion than Steve and his fellow worker showed. They sat down in turn beside Tusker Joe, moistening his lips with water every now and again, whisking the flies away when they would have settled on his face, and holding themselves always in readiness to turn him if the position in which he was placed should appear to be harmful. But it quickly became apparent that Steve's common sense and his most valuable habit of close observation were to be rewarded. Nature, indeed, responded to the treatment, and before long it was clear that Tusker's condition, though still desperate, was slightly improved. The pallor of his face was not now so marked, while there was little if any bleeding from the lung.

"He ain't likely ter die of loss of blood now, I reckon," said Steve, surveying him critically. "It aer the shock of the wound that's going ter kill Tusker. Jest set down beside him, mate, while I have a look at Jack."

Late that evening the man who had ridden off to the settlement with a note from the sheriff returned, and with him a young surgeon. By then Jack had awakened, and, but for a slight headache and a good deal of stiffness, was himself again. Therefore there was no need for him to have attention. The surgeon at once went to Tusker's side, and for half an hour devoted all his skill to him.

"If he lives I shall be surprised," he said at last, when he had done all that was possible. "I calculate that the ball was travelling in such a direction that it must have perforated the upper part of the lung—a part, in fact, of vital importance, seeing the size of the vessels there. In any case, the man who looked to him at first and bandaged him deserves a medal. It was the only treatment to adopt. I couldn't have done more myself. You can see for yourselves that, beyond replacing the dressing with one of suitable material, I have made no alteration."

Steve went red at such commendation. "Yer don't live out on the plains fer nothing, mister," he growled. "Still, I'm glad we did the right thing."

"You can take my word for it that you did," was the hearty answer. "All that I can suggest now refers to nourishment and covering."

The night which followed was an anxious one in the camp. Jack could scarcely sleep for worrying, while Steve was on his feet continually, hovering about the wounded man; for it was by no means certain that Tusker would live even long enough to regain consciousness, and, if he were to regain his senses, who could say whether he could or would provide that evidence which was of such vital importance to Jack, and alone could clear him of the accusation for which he had been tried, and so nearly imprisoned. It was yet to be seen if our hero would ever clear his name, or be able to return to Hopeville in safety, and there prove, beyond a question of doubt, that he was entirely guiltless.

A Great Acquittal

Let the reader imagine with what anxiety Jack and his friends watched the struggle between life and death taking place in the case of Tusker Joe. There were days and days when the man lay an inert mass, unconscious, and too weak to move. Days when it appeared as if each minute would prove his last. Then, when all seemed lost, the brigand's extraordinary vitality gave him strength to rally. He turned the corner, mended slowly, and was at length strong enough to speak.

"And now we kin move him ter the settlement," said the sheriff, who had been in almost daily attendance. He had, in fact, been a stanch friend to Jack and his mates, and had sent tents and provisions to them. "Once we have him and his comrade in the settlement, we'll get a couple of lawyers to come along with us, and we'll hold a sorter court, with witnesses ter take note of everything. In course he may refuse to speak. But Tusker aer on the long road. He's mended so far, but that hurt aer goin' ter prove fatal."

That, indeed, had been the opinion of the surgeon, who also had made more than one trip out to the temporary camp beside the mountain, where the last of the brigands had been run to earth.

"Shot through the chest," he declared grimly, "and may or may not make a recovery; but in any case it will be but temporary. My experience teaches me that the man's days are numbered."

However, Tusker improved to such an extent that it became possible to move him. He was taken in a cart to the settlement, his wounded mate riding with him. As for the latter, he was even more grievously hurt, and his life still hung in the balance.

"We might wait here a month and he be still the same," said the surgeon. "We will risk moving him. There is no other alternative."

All this while Jack had been careful to keep away from the injured men. He had ridden back to the mine to report to Tom and the others what had happened, and had found them industriously delving and washing dirt in the cradles. They declared to him that the yield was, if anything, improving, and that there seemed to be a wealth of the shining metal still to be regained.

"There ain't a doubt but what we've hit it rich," declared Tom the evening Jack arrived, "and ef we get the stuff ter the bank without meeting with any of the gentry as tried ter waylay you, we'll all have fortunes to our name. So you've got that man at last, Carrots? Don't you be downhearted. That Tusker will out with his evidence, and ye'll be cleared. They'll shout themselves hoarse when yer get back to Hopeville. Meanwhile me and the mates go on, and shares are divided same as before, so you, and Steve, and Tom, and Abe'll lose nothing. That's doin' things fair and square, same as we've always done."

When Jack got back to the settlement, where Tusker was being cared for, Steve greeted him eagerly.

"He'll talk, he will!" he cried. "I've been in ter see the man, and, I tell yer, he's changed. He reckons he's got the last call, and ain't much longer fer this world. He jest begged me ter overlook old days, and forgive him for what he's done. That bein' his mood, seems ter me as you'd best see him."

That very evening, in fact, the surgeon having been consulted, Jack was ushered into the little wooden shanty where the wounded brigand lay. He was propped up in bed, and our hero was shocked at his appearance. The man was desperately thin and cadaverous, while there were heavy lines under his eyes.

"Tusker," said Steve solemnly, "I've brought a young friend of mine ter see you, and afore yer take a look at him, or git talkin', I'd like to give you his history. Aer you game ter listen?"

The wounded man motioned Steve to a chair, and scarcely looked at our hero.

"Speak!" he said in a voice little above a whisper. "I will listen."

"Then, here's the yarn. Jack Kingsley aer the son of a man called Tom—Tom Kingsley, from New York State—known in the minin' camps a dozen years ago as 'Lord Tom'. He war shot in a saloon by one called——"

"Stop!" Tusker Joe's voice rose almost to a scream. "I know—I know the tale only too well. Believe me, mates, I would give the whole of my past life if I could undo what I have done. The memory of those crimes haunts me. And this is the son? I beg of him, I—I——"

"That's done with, mate," said Steve kindly. "Thar comes a day when every man, as he looks back, sees things as he might ha' done better, things that shame him and make him wince. Ef ye've turned, as I believe yer have, why, then, I reckon your sorrow aer downright genuine. Yer can't give Lord Tom's life back to his son, so we'll let the matter be a bygone. But thar's more to tell, Tusker; more as has ter do with your actions. Listen for a spell."

The little scout moistened his lips, and looked from Jack to the sick man. At any other time he would have despised himself for tormenting a poor wretch with such a tale, for torment the words he had uttered had been to Tusker. The man's drawn face showed it. It was cruel to persevere with the story, yet here, on this man's slender life, lay the success or failure of Jack's existence.

"Wall, you've got ter hear it," said the little hunter, as gently as he could, "fer Jack here ain't never done nothin' ter harm you. He's as clean and straight and plucky a young fellow as ever I met, and ef ye're true to yerself, Tusker, he'll be able ter go back home ter his friends, and hold his head up before the world. Tusker, thar was a man same as you came to a town called Hopeville, this many months back, and got a young smith ter forge a key, stuffin' him with some simple yarn. That young chap war Jack here. He got suspicious, and happened by chance ter discover that the man fer whom he'd made the key were about ter attempt a burglary with a mate. He followed them, got right inter the house, and then war set upon by a caretaker who took him fer one of the burglars. Jack here war floored, and then the caretaker war shot by the burglars, who got clear away. Wall, when the officer came, the man as war hurt declared that Jack war one of the gang, and then died right off. Thar warn't no one to clear Jack, no one ter prove as he wasn't one of the gang, and he war put up fer trial. He'd have had ten years' imprisonment ef he hadn't bolted, and ef he ever goes back east he's sure to be taken. Tusker, the man who come fer that key war you. You're the only one as kin clear Jack and set him on his legs agin."

It was a long speech. Steve had probably never before made such a lengthy one, and at the end he drew his hand across his forehead to wipe the perspiration away. Jack stepped into the centre of the room, where the light fell full upon him, while the sick man sat upright and stared eagerly into his face. Then he fell back wearily.

"Everywhar the tale is the same," he groaned. "I have indeed done miserably with my life. I acknowledge that I was that man. Show me how I kin help ter right the wrong I have done."

Waiting outside were the surgeon, the sheriff and two lawyers, besides a couple of independent witnesses, and Steve promptly ushered them in.

"He'll speak," he said. "He acknowledges all."

"Then we will get to business. See here, Tusker," said the sheriff kindly, taking the sick man's hand, "ye've got a real good chance ter do a good turn ter one ye've harmed. We've witnesses here. Tell us the tale of this burglary. Describe the place, the house, the rooms you entered, everything, in fact, that happened. Then, when the evidence is sent to Hopeville, thar won't be a shadow of doubt but that you war the man."

It took more than an hour to take down the evidence, and true to his word Tusker gave every detail. Sketches were drawn of the house from his directions, the name and address of the owner of the cart he had hired were forthcoming, while he was even able to give the name of the man who had received the goods he had stolen.

"And now," he said, more cheerfully, as if his action had taken some of the load from his mind, "I've heard that James Benson war the only other man of the gang caught alive, and that, like me, he ain't much longer fer this world. Wall, I said I'd do all I can. James war in that burglary too. Ef you want corroboration of the evidence, see him. Tell him I've spoken. Take his evidence separately. Thar won't, then, be a shadow of doubt."

The other man, who alone with Tusker had lived to be captured, promptly agreed to tell his story when he heard what his chief had done. And, as may be imagined, the sheriff and his witnesses very carefully entered every particular, getting the man to sign his confession just as Tusker had done.

"That's enough to clear a judge," said the sheriff, delight in his voice, when they had retired from the house. "Now, there's jest one more thing as the lawyers advise, and I agree with them that it would be well ef it war done. We'll call in two more sheriffs from the nearest townships, read this evidence over before them, and before Tusker and the man James, and then get them to attach their signatures and official seals. The expense will be trifling, and I'm sure havin' everythin' so up to date and orderly will prevent any little hitch arising. In course, ef it war possible, I'd say: Take Tusker and the other man right east with you to Hopeville. But that ain't ter be thought of. The journey would kill them."

A week later our hero set out for San Francisco, Steve and one of the lawyers accompanying him.

"It aer worth the expense," said Steve, when it was first suggested that a lawyer should be taken. "He'll be able ter prove the papers and the seals, and kin act as defence for yer. In course ye'll have ter surrender ter justice, and then apply fer bail. We'll draw some of our gains before movin'."

Two months later they arrived in Hopeville, and Jack nearly startled the kindly James Orring out of his senses when he suddenly appeared at the forge. James stared at him as if he were a ghost, gripped his hand, and then, sinking his voice, and looking hastily over his shoulder, drew his late apprentice into the back of the smithy.

"Glad, right glad to see yer, Jack," he said heartily; "but this aer rank foolishness. Thar's never a day passes but what Simpkins the constable gits nosing round here, as ef he expected ter suddenly find yer. He ain't been to-day. Guess he'll be about afore very long. Wall, what aer it? Short of money, lad?"

Jack laughed, and, dipping his hand into his pocket, pulled out a roll of dollar bills. "Thanks, no," he said, still smiling. "I've come to hand myself over to the constable, please. Will you send for him?"

It was a day of excitement for Hopeville, and for James and his wife in particular. Quick as a flash the news spread that the young smith who had made such a sensational escape from prison, and was being tried for burglary, had suddenly returned to face the justices. The rumour brought the pompous Simpkins bouncing along, and in a trice he had apprehended Jack.

"At last!" he cried in triumph. "Back you come to the jail."

"Stop, constable, I am a lawyer. I hold in this bag certain evidence of Mr. Jack Kingsley's innocence," exclaimed the lawyer, stepping forward. "My client hands himself over to the authorities of his own free will. We will walk to the office quietly, if you please."

The lawyer's air of authority, and Jack's obvious elation, cooled the ardour of the constable, and, seeing that recourse to harsh measures might lead him into trouble, he surlily agreed to accompany them to the station. Once there, Jack was placed in the dock, for the justices happened to be sitting; and within an hour he was set at liberty, on bail. There is no need to describe how he was again put on his trial, and how, within two days of its commencement, he was acquitted, and discharged, amid the cheers of the populace. Indeed, he was become a hero, for Steve's tongue had been wagging more than it had ever done before. The people of Hopeville knew now that the young smith was not only entirely innocent, but that he was a lad after the real heart of an American, and one of whom they ought to be proud. Moreover, he was rich. Yes, Jack was rich, and proved it; for when he set his face again for California he left James Orring and his wife comfortably housed in a place of their own, with a goodly sum to keep them, and a man installed in the smithy to help with the work. His mother and other friends had also tasted of his generosity, while the constable and he had buried the hatchet, and were become fast friends.