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L O N 1 J O N : JAMES NISBET & CO. TWICE BOUGHT A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLD FIELDS. By R M. BALLANTYNE, AUTHOR OF "DUSTY DIAMONDS," "THE RED MAN's REVENGE," "PHILOSOPHER JACK,' "THE IRON HORSE," " FIGHTING THE FLAMES," " THE LIFEBOAT," " MY DOGGIE AND I," "THE MADMAN AND THE PIRATE," ETC. ETC. mUh mnettttiions. SIXTH THOUSAND LONDON- JAMES NISBET & CO., 21 BERNERS STREET. [All rights resermd.] T2 7 158589 LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS. THROUGH THE DEFILES OF THE SAWBACK ^^^^^' ••.... Frontispiece. VIGNETTE TITLE. "NOWORNIVER!" .... to/ace page26 "WE MUST INDEED PART HERE," ... 96 THEY STALKED AWAY WITH HIM, A BEAUTIFUL ANTELOPE BOUNDED FORTH, HE WALKED SWIFTLY AWAY, "IT IS TOO LATE," . 125 185 218 268 TWICE BOUGHT: A TALE OF THE OREGON UOLDFIELDS. CHAPTER I. TTONEST Y is the best policy.' Tom, you may depend -■-*- on It," said a youth to his companion, one after- noon, as they walked along the margin of one of those brawling rivulets which, born amid the snows of the Rocky Mountain peaks, run a wild and plunging course of many miles before finding comparative rest in the cele- brated goldfields of Oregon. "I don't agree with you, Fred," said Tom, sternly "and I don't believe in the proverb you have quoted! The world's maxims are not all gospeL" " You are right, Tom ; many of them are false ; never- theless, some are founded on gospel truth." "It matters not," returned Tom, angrily. "I have made up my mind to get back from that big thief Gash- ford what he has stolen from me, for it is certain that he cheated at play, though I could not prove it at the time It IS impossible to get it back by fair means, and I hold It quite aUowable to steal from a thief, especiaUy when that which you take is your own." Fred Westly shook his head, but did not reply. Many a time had he reasoned with his friend, Tom Brixton TWICE BOUGHT : about tliG sin of gambling, and urged him to bo content with the result of each day's digging for gold, but hia words had no effect. Young Brixton had resolved to make a fortune rapidly. He laboured each day with pick and shovel with the energy of a hero and the dogged perseverance of a navvy, and each night he went to Lantry's store to increase his gains by gambl: jy As a matter of course his " luck," as he called it, varieu. Some- times he returned to the tent which he shared with his friend Westly depressed, out of humour, and empty- handed. At other times he made his appearance flushed with success — occasionally, also, with drinl:, — and flung down a heavy bag of golden nuggets as the result of his evening's play. Ultimately, when under the influence of drink, he staked all that he had in the world, except his clothes and tools, to a man named Gashford, who was noted for his size, strength of body, and utter disregard of God and man. As Brixton said, Gashford had cheated him at play, and this had rendered the ruined man un- usually savage. The sun was down when the two friends entered their tent and began to pull off their muddy boots, while a little man in a blue flannel shirt and a brown wide-awake busied himself in the preparation of supper. "What have you got for us to-night, Paddy?" asked Westly. " Salt pork it is," said the little man, looking up with a most expressive grin ; " the best o' victuals when there 's nothin' better. Bein' in a luxurious frame o' mind when I was up at the store, I bought a few split-pays for seasonin* ; but it comes hard on a man to spind his goold on sitch things when his luck *s down. You 've not done much to-day, I see, by the looks of ye." " Right, Paddy," said Tom Brixton, with a harsh laugh ; A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. " we 've done nothing — absolutely nothing. See, there is my day's work." Ho pulled three small grains of gold, each about the size of a pea, from his trousers pocket, and flung them contemptuously into a washing-pan at his elbow. " Sure, we won't make our fortius fast at that rate," said Paddy, or Patrick Flinders. " This won't help it much," said Westly, with a mingled smile and sigh, as he added a small nugget and a little gold-dust to the pile. " Ah ! then, haven't I forgot the shuggar for the tay ; but I 've not got far to go for to get it. Just kape stirrin' tlie pot. Mister Westly, I '11 be back in a minit." " Tom," said Westly, when their comrade had gone out, " don't give way to angry feelings. Do try, like a good fellow, to look at things in a philosophical light, since you object to a religious one. Kightly or wrongly, Gashford has won your gold. Well, take heart and dig away. You know I have saved a considerable sum, the half of which is at your service to — " " Do you suppr se," interrupted che other sharply, " that I will consent to become a beggar?" " No," replied Westly, " but there is no reason why you should not consent to accept an jffer when it is made to you by an old chum. Besides, I offer the money on loan, the only condition being that you won't gamble it away." " Fred," returned Brixton, impressively, " I mtist gamble with it if I take it. I can no more give up gambling than I can give up drinking. I 'm a doomed man, my boy ; doomed to be either a millionaire or a madman !" The glittering eyes and wild expression of the youth while he spoke induced his friend to fear that he was already the latter. " Oh ! Tom, my dear fellow," he said, " God did not TWICE BOUGHT . doom you. If your doom is fixed, you have yourself fixed it." "Now, Fred," returned the other impatiently, "don't bore me with your religious notions. Religion is all very well in the old country, but it won't work at all here at the diggin's." " My experience has proved the contrary," returned Westly, " for religion — or, rather, God — has saved me from drink and gaming." " If it he God who has saved you, why has He not saved me ?" demanded Brixton. " Because that mysterious and incomprehensible power of Free Will stands in your way. In the exercise of your free will you have rejected God, therefore the responsi- bility rests with yourself If you will now call upon Him, He will, by His Holy Spirit, enable you to accept salvation through Jesus Chfist." " No use, Fred, no use," said Tom, shaking his head. " When you and I left England, three years ago, I might have believed and trusted as you do, but it 's t^o late now — too late I say, so don't worry me with your solemn looks and sermons. My mind's made up, I tell you. With these three paltry little lumps of gold I '11 gamble at the store to-night with Gashford. I '11 double the stake every game. If I win, well— if not, I *11 — " He stopped abruptly, because at that moment Paddy Flinders re-entered with the sugar ; possibly, also, because he did not wish to reveal all his intentions. That night there was more noise, drinking, and gambling than usual at Lantry's store, several of the miners having returned from a j. respecting trip into the mountains With a considerable quantity of gold. Loudest among the swearers, deepest among the drinkers, and must itjckless among the gauibleis was Gashfoid " the A TALE OP THE OREGON GOLDPIELDS. bully," as he was styled. He had just challenged any one present to play when Brixton entered the room. "We will each stake all that we own on a single chance," he said, looking round. " Come, that's fair, ain't it ? for you know I Ve got lots of dust." There was a general laugh, but no one would accept the challenge — which Brixton had not heard — though he heard the laugh that followed. Many of the diggers, especially the poorer ones, would have gladly taken him up if they had not been afraid of the consequences if successful. "Well, boys, I couldn't make a fairer offer — all I possess against all that any other man owns, though it should only be half an ounce of gold," said the bully, tossing off a glass of spirits. " Done ! I accept your challenge," cried Tom Brixton, stepping forward. " You !" exclaimed Gashford, with a look of contempt ; " why, you 've got nothing to stake. I cleaned you out yesterday." " I have this to stake," said Tom, holding out the three little nuggets of gold which he had found that day. " It is all that I possess, and it is more than half an ounce, which you mentioned as the lowest you *d play for." "Well, I'll stick to what I said," growled Gashford, " if it be half an ounce. Come, Lautry, get out your scales." The storekeeper promptly produced the little balance which he used for weighing gold-dust, and the diggers crowded round withinuch Iilerest towatcli, while Lantry, with a show of unwonted care, dusted the scales, and put the three nuggets therein. "Three-quarters of an ounce," said the storekeeper, when the balance ceased to vibrate. 6 TWICE BOUGHT : ( 1 |l| I I l\ fit " Come along, then, an* let *s have another glass of grog for luck," cried Gashford, striking his huge fist on the counter. A thiow of the dice was to decide the matter. While Lantry, who was appointed to make the thrcv/, rattled the dice in the box, the diggers crowded round in eager curiosity, for, besides the unusual disparity between the stakes, there was much probability of a scene of violence as the result, Brixton having displayed a good deal of temper when he lost to the bully on the previous day. " Lost !** exclaimed several voices in disappointed tones, when the dice fell on the table. " Who 's lost ?" cried those in the rear of the crowd. " Tom Brixton, to be sure," answered Gashford, with a laugh. " He always loses ; but it 's no great loss this time, and I am not much the richer." There was no response to this sally. Every one looked at Brixton, expecting an outburst of rage, but the youth stood calmly contemplating the dice with an absent look, and a pleasant smile on his lips. "Yes," he said, recovering himself, "luck is indeed against me. But never mind. Let's have a drink, Lantry ; you '11 have to give it me on credit this time !" Lantry professed himself to be quite willing to oblige an old customer to that extent. He could well afford it, he said ; and it was unquestionable truth that he uttered, for his charges were exorbitant. That night, when the camp was silent in repose, and the revellers were either steeped in oblivion or wandering in golden dreams, Tom Brixton sauntered slowly down to the river at a point where it spread out into a lakelet, in which the moon was brightly reflected. The overhanging cliffs, fringed with underwood and crowned with trees, shot reflections of ebony blackness here and there down into A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. the water, while beyond, through several openings, could be seen a varied and beautiful landscape, backed and capped by the snowpeaks of the great backbone of America. It was a scene fitted to solemnise and soften, but it had no such influence on Tom Brixton, who did not give it even a passing thought, though he stood with folde arms and contracted brows, gazing at it long and earnestly After a time he began to mutter to himself in broKe sentences. "Fred is mistaken — must be mistaken. There is no law here. Law must be taken into one's own hands. It cannot be wrong to rob a robber. It is not robbery to take back one's own. Foul means are admissible when fair — yet it is a sneaking thing to do ! Ha ! who said it was sneaking V (He started and thrust his hands through his hair.) " Bah ! Lantry, your grog is too fiery. It was the grog that spoke, not conscience. Pooh ! I don't believe in conscience. Come, Tom, don't be a fool, but go and — Mother ! What has she got to do with it ? Lantry's fire-water didn't bring her to my mind. No, it ii Fred, confound him ! He 's always suggesting what she would say in circumstances which she has never been in and could not possibly understand. And he worries me on the plea that he promised her to stick by me through evil report and good report I suppose that means through thick and thin. Well, he 's a good fellow is Fred, but wealc. Yes, I *ve made up my mind to do it, and I will do it." He turned hastily as he spoke, and was soon lost in the little belt of woodland that lay between the lake and the miner's camp. It pleased Gash ford to keep his gold in a huge leathern bag, which he hid in a hole in the ground within his tent during the day, and placed under his pillow during the night. It pleased him also to dwell and work alone, partly 8 TWICE BOUGHT : ii?! ii ! mi because he was of an unsociable disposition, and partly to prevent men becoming acquainted with his secrets. There did not seem to be much fear of the big miner's secrets being discovered, for Lynch law prevailed in the camp at that time, and it was well known that death was the usual punishment for theft. It was also well known that Gashford was a splendid shot with the revolver, as well as a fierce, unscrupulous man. But strong drink revealed that which might have otherwise been safe. When in his cups Gashford sometimes became boastful, and gave hints now and then which were easily under- stood. Still his gold was safe, for, apart from the danger of the attempt to rob the bully, it would have been impossible to discover tl 3 particular part of his tent-floor in which the hole was dug, and, as to venturing to touch his pillow while his shaggy head rested on it, no one was daring enough to contemplate such an act, although there were men there capable of doing almost anything. Here again, however, strong drink proved to be the big miner's foe. Occasionally, though not often, Gashford drank so deeply as to become almost helpless, and, after lying down in his bed, sank into a sleep so profound that it seemed as if he could not have been roused even with violence. He was in this condition on the night in which his victim made up his mind to rob him. Despair and brandy had united to render Brixton utterly reckless ; so much so, that, instead of creeping stealthily towards his enemy's tent, an act which would probably have aroused the suspicion of a light sleeper, he walked boldly up, entered it, raised Gashford's unconscious head with one hand, pulled out the bag of gold with the other, put it on his shoulder, and coolly marched out of the camp. The audacity of the deed contributed largely to its success. A TALE OP THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 9 Great was the rage and consternation of Gashford when he awoke the following morning and found that his treasure had disappeared. Jumping at once to the con- clusion that it had been stolen by Brixton, he ran to that youth's tent and demanded to know where the thief had gone to. " What do you mean by the thief 1" asked Fred Westly, with misgiving at his heart. " I mean your chum, Tom Brixton," shouted the enraged miner. " How do you know he *s a thief?" asked Westly. " I didn't come here to be asked questions by you," said Gashford. " Where has he gone to, I say ?" « I don't know." "That's a lie !" roared the miner, clenching his fist in a threatening manner. " Poor Tom ! I wish I did know where you have gone !" said Fred, shaking his head sadly as he gazed on the floor, and taking no notice whatever of the threatening action of his visitor. "Look here now, Westly," said Gashford, in a low suppressed voice, shutting the curtain of the tent and drawing a revolver from his pocket, "you know some- thing about this matter, and you know me. If you don't tell me all you know and where your chum has bolted to, I '11 blow your brains out as sure as there 's a God in heaven." "I thought," said Westly, quietly, and without the slightest symptom of alarm, "you held the opinion that there is no God and no heaven." "Come, young fellow, none o' }'our religious chaff, but answer my question." "Nothing is farther from my thoughts than chaffing you," returned Westly, gently, " and if the mere mention Tl 10 TWICE BOUGHT : of God's name is religion, then you may claim to be one of the most religious men at the diggings, for you are constantly praying Him to curse people. I have already answered your question, and can only repeat that I don't hmm where my friend Brixton has gone to. But let me ask, in turn, what has happened to yaii, ?" There was no resisting the earnest sincerity of Fred's look and tone, to say nothing of his cool courage. Gash- ford felt somewhat abashed in fi I ! i! h engaged the services of several Indians who chanced to be at the camp at that time. " What direction d'ye think it 's likely your precious chum has taken ?" asked Gashford, turning abruptly to Fred Westly when the different parties were about to start. " It is impossible for me to tell." **I know that," retorted Gashford, with a scowl and something of a sneer, " but it ain't impossible for you to guess. However, it will do as well if you tell me which party you intend to join." "I shall join that which goes to the south-west," replied Westly. " Well, then, / will join that which goes to the south- east," returned the bully, shouldering his rifle. " Go ahead, you red reptile," he added, giving a sign to the Indian at the head of the party he had selected to lead. "The Indian at once went off at a swinging walk, amounting almost to a trot. The others followed suit, and the forest soon swallowed them all in its dark embrace. In making this selection Gashford had fallen into a mistake not uncommon among scoundrels — that of judg- ing other men by themselves. He knew that Westly was fond of his guilty friend, and concluded that he would tell any falsehood or put the pursuers on any false scent that might favour his escape. He also guessed — and he was fond of guessing — that Fred would answer his question by indicating the direction which he thought it most probable his friend had not taken. In these guesses he was only to a small extent right. Westly did indeed earnestly hope that his friend would escape ; for he deemed theintended punishment of death most unjustly severe, and, knowing intimately the character and tendencies of Tom Brixton's mind and tastes, he had a pretty shrewd guess A TALE OF THE OREGON aOLDFIELDS. 17 as to the direction he had taken, but, so far from desiring to throw the pursuers off tlie scent, his main anxiety was to join tlie party which he thought most likely to find the fugitive — if they should find him at all — in order that he might be present to defend him from sudden or unneces- sary violence. Of course Paddy Flinders went with the same party, and we need scarcely add that the little Irishman sym- pathised with Fred. " D'ee think it 's likely we '11 cotch *im ? " he asked, in a whisper, on the evening of tliat day, as they went vapidly through the woods together, a little in rear of their party. "It is difficult to say," answered Westly. " I earnestly hope not ; indeed I think not, for Tom has had a good start; but the search is well organised, and there are bloodthirsty, indignant, and persevering men among the various parties, who won't be easily baffled. Still Tom is a splendid runner. We may depend on having a long chase before we come up with him." "Ah, then, it's glad I am that ye think so, sor," returned Paddy, " for I 've been afear'd Mister Tom hadn't got quite so much go in him, since he tuk to gambling and drinkin'." " Look here., Paddy," exclaimed his companion, stopping abruptly, and pointing to the ground, " are not these the footprints of one of your friends V* " Sure it 's a bar," said the little man, going down on his knees to examine the footprints in question with deep interest. Flinders was a remarkably plucky little man, and one of his great ambitions was to meet with a bear, when alone, and slay it single-handed. His ambition had not, up to that time, been gratified, fortunately for himself, B 18 «WICE BOUGHT : for he was a bad shot and exceedingly reckless, two qualities which would probably have insured his own destruction if he had had his wish. " Let 's go after it, Mister Westly," he said, springing to his feet with an excited look. " Nonsense, it is probably miles ofif by this time ; besides, we should lose our party." " Niver a taste, sor ; we could soon overhaul them agin. An' won't they have to camp at sundown anyhow ? More- over, if we don't come up wi' the bar in a mile or so we can give it up." " No, no, Paddy, we must not fall behind. At least, 1 must not ; but you may go after it alone if you choose." "Well, I will, sor. Sure it's not ivery day I git the chance ; an' there 's no fear o' ye overhaulin' Mister Tom this night. We '11 have to slape over it, I '11 be bound. Just tell the boys I '11 be after them in no time." So saying Paddy shouldered his rifle, felt knife and axe to make sure of their being safe in his belt, and strode away ir. the track of the bear. He had not gone above a quarter of a mile when he came to the spot where the mortal combat had taken place, and found Tom Brixton and the bear dead — as he imagined — on the blood-stained turf. He uttered a mighty cry, partly to relieve his feelings and partly to recall his friend. The imprudence of this flashed upon him when too late, for others, besides Fred, might have heard him. But Tom Brixton was not dead. Soon after the dying bear had fallen on him, lie recovered consciousness, and shaking himself clear of the carcass with difficulty had arisen; but, giddiness returning, he lay down, and while in this position, overcome with fatigue, had fallen asleep. Paddy's shout aroused him. With a sense of deadly peril A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 19 hanging over him he leaped up and sprang on the Irishman. "Hallo, Paddy 1" he cried, checking himself,- and endeavouring to wipe from his face some of the clotted blood with which he had been deluged. " You here ? Are you alone ?" "It's wishin* that T was," replied the little man, looking round anxiously. " Mister Fred '11 be here d'rectly, sor — an' — an' I hope that'll be all. But it's alive ye are, is it ? An' didn't I take ye for dead. Oh ! Mister Brixton, there 's more blood on an' about ye, I do belave, than yer whole body could howld." Before an answer could be returned, Fred Westly, having heard Paddy's shout, came running up. " Oh ! Tom, Tom," he cried, eagei-ly, " are you hurt ? Can you walk ? Can you run ? The whole camp is out after vou." " Indeed ? " replied the fugitive, with a frown, " It would seem that even my friends have joined in the chase." " We have," said the other, hurriedly, " but not to capture — to save, if possible. Come, Tom, can you make an effort ? Are you hurt much ? You are so horribly covered with blood — " He stopped short, for at that moment a shout was heard in the distance. It was replied to in another direction nearer at hand. There happened to be a man in the party which Westly had joined, ramed Crossby. He had suffered much from thieves, and had a particular spite against Brixton because he had lost to him at play. He had heard Paddy Flinders's unfortunate shout, and immediately ran in the direction whence it came ; while others of the party, having discovered the fugitive's track, had followed it up. ::n r VI "•►ii. 20 TWICE BOUGHT : " Too late," groaned Fred on hearing Crossby's voice. " Not too late for this" growled Brixton, bitterly, as he quickly loaded his rifle. " For God's sake don't do that, Tom," cried his friend earnestly, as he laid his hand on his arm ; but Tom shook him off and completed the operation just as Crossby burst from the bushes and ran towards them. Seeing the fugitive standing ready with rifle in hand, he stopped at once, took rapid aim, and fired. The ball whistled close past the head of Tom, who then raised his own rifle, took deliberate aim, and fired, but Westly threw up the muzzle and the bullet went high among the tree-tops. With an exclamation of fury Brixton drew his knife, while Crossby rushed at him with his rifle clubbed. The digger was a strong and fierce man, and there would doubtless have been a terrible and fatal encounter if Fred had not again interfered. He seized his friend from behind, and, whirling him sharply round, received on his own shoulder the blow which was meant for Tom's head. Fred fell, dragging his friend down with him. Flinders, who witnessed the unaccountable action of his companion with much surprise, now sprang to the rescue, but at the moment several of the other pursuers rushed upon the scene, and the luckless fugitive was instantly overpowered and secured. " Now, my young buck," said Crossby, " stand up ! Hold him, four of you, till 1 fix his hands wi' this rope. There, it 's the rope that you '11 swing by, so you '11 find it hard to break." While Tom was being bound he cast a look of fierce anger on Westly, who still lay prostrate and insensible on the ground, despite Paddy's efforts to rouse him. I ■I A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 21 "I hope he is killed" muttered Tom between his teeth. " Och ! no fear of him, he 's not so aisy kilt," said Flinders, looking up. "Bad luck to ye for wishin' it." As if to corroborate Paddy's opinion, Westly showed of returning consciousness, and soon after sat signs up, "Did ye kill that bar all by yerself ?" asked one of the men who held the fugitive. But Tom would not condescend to reply, and in a few minutes Crossby gave the word to march back towards Pine Tree Diggings. They set off — two men marching on either side of the prisoner with loaded rifles and revolvers, the rest in front and in rear. A party was left behind to skin the bear and bring away the tit-bits of the carcass for supper, Being too late to return to Pine Tree Camp that night, they arranged to bivouac for the night in a hollow where there was a little pond fed by a clear spring which was known as the Eed Man's Teacup, Here they kindled a large fire, the bright sparks from which, rising above the tree-tops, soon attracted the attention of the other parties, so that, ere long, the whole band of pursuers was gathered to the spot. Gashford was the last to come up. On hearing that the thief had been captured by his former chum Westly, assisted by Flinders and Crossby, he expressed consider- able surprise, and cast a long and searching gaze on Fred, who, however, being busy with the fire at the time, was unconscious of it. Whatever tlie bully thought, he kept his opinions to himself. " Have you tied him up well ?" he said, turning to Crossby. ,-r Rcai 22 TWICE BOUGHT : " A wild horse couldn't break his fasteuings," answered the digger. " Perhaps not," returned Gashford, with a sneer, " but you are always too sure by half o' yer work. Come, stand up," he added, going to where Tom lay, and stirring his prostrate form with his toe. Brixton having now had time to consider his case coolly, had made up his mind to subiiit with a good grace to his fate, and, if it were so decreed — to die " like a man." "I deserve punishment," he reasoned with himself, "though death is too severe f'"* the offence. However, a guilty man can't expect to be the chooser of his reward. I suppose it is fate, as the Turks say, so I'll submit — like them." He stood up at once, therefore, on being ordered to do so, and quietly underwent inspection. " Ha ! I thought so !" exclaimed Gashford, contemp- tuously. "Any man could free himself from that in half an hour. But what better could be expected from a land-lubber ?" Crossby made some sharp allusions to a " sea-lubber," but he wisely restrained his voice so that only those nearest overheard him. Meanwhile Gashford undid the rope that bound Tom Brixton's arms behind him, and, holding him in his iron grip, ordered a smaller cord to be letclied. Paddy Flinders, who had a schoolboy tendency to stuff his various pockets full of all sorts of miscellaneous articles, at once stepped forward and handed the leader a piece of strong cod-line. " There ye are, sor," said he. " Just the thing, Paddy. Here, catch hold o' this end of it an' haul." " Yis, gineral," said the Irishman, in a tone and with ■;J:^. .1 A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIEIDS. 23 a degree of alacrity that caused a laugh from most of those who were looking on. Even the ** gineral " observed it, and remarked with a sardonic smile — " You seem to be pleased to see your old chum in this fix, T think." "Well now, gineral," returned Flinders, in an argu- mentative tone of voice, " I can't exactly say that, sor, for I 'm troubled with what ye may call amiable weaknesses. Anyhow, I might see 'im in a worse fix." " Well, you 're like to see him in a worse fix if you live long enough," returned the leader. " Haul now on this knot. It '11 puzzle him to undo that. Lend me your knife." Flinders drew his glittering bowie-knife from its sheath and handed it to his leader, who cut off* the superfluous cordage with it, after having bound the prisoner's wrists behind his back in a sailor-like manner. In returning the knife to its owner, Gashford, who was fond of a practical joke, tossed it high in the air towards him with a " Here, catch." The keen glittering thing came twirling down, but to the surprise of all, the Irishman caught it by the handle as deftly as though he had been a trained juggler. "Thank your gineralship," exclaimed Paddy, amid a shout of laughter and applause, bowing low in mock reverence. As he rose he made a wild flourish with the knife, uttered an Indian war-whoop, and cut a caper. In that flourish he managed to strike the cord that bound the prisoner, and severed one turn of it. The barefaced audacity of the act (like that of a juggler) caused it to pass unobserved. Even Tom, although he felt the touch of the knife, was not aware of what had happened, for, of course, a number of uncut turns of the cord still held his wrists painfully tight. 24 TWICE BOUGHT : " Now, lie down on your back," said Gashford, sternly, when the laugh that Paddy had raised subsided. Either the tone of this command, or the pain caused by his bonds, roused Tom's anger, for he refused- to obey. "Lie down, ye spalpeen, whin the gineral bids ye," cried Flinders, suddenly seizing his old friend by the collar and flinging him flat on his back, in which act hs managed to trip and fall on the top of him. The opportunity was not a good one, nevertheless the energetic fellow managed to whisper, " The rope 's cut ! Lie still !" in the very act of falling. " Well done, Paddy," exclaimed several of the laughing men, as Flinders rose with a pretended look of discom- fiture, and went towards the fire, exclaiming — " Niver mind, boys, I '11 have me supper now. Hi ! who 's bin an' stole it whin I was out on dooty ? Oh ! here it is all right. Now then, go to work, an' whin the pipes is lighted I '11 maybe sing ye a song, or tell ye a stoiy about ould Ireland." wnjavmm^a A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 25 CHAPTER III. ■I ■I OBEDIENT to orders, Tom Brixton lay perfectly still on his back, just where he had fallen, wondering much whether the cord was really cut, for he did not feel much relaxation of it or abatement of the pain. He resolved, at any rate, to give no further cause for rough treatment, but to await the issue of events as patiently as he could. True to his promise, the Irishman after supper sang several songs, which, if not characterised by sweetness of tone, were delivered with a degree of vigour that seemed to make full amends in the estimation of his hearers. After that he told a thrilling ghost story, which drew the entire band of men round him. Paddy had a natural gift in the way of relating ghost stories, for, besides the power of rapid and sustained discourse, without hesitation or redundancy of words, he possessed a vivid imagination, a rich fancy, a deep bass voice, an expressive countenance, and a pair of large coal-black eyes, which, as one of. the Yankee diggers said, " would sartinly bore two holes in a blanket if he only looked at it long enough." We do not intend to inflict that ghost story on the reader. It is sufficient to say that Paddy began it by ex- claiming in a loud voice — "'Now or niver, boys — now or uiver.' That's what the ghost said." nr-9il 26 TWICE BOUGHT : I k < " What 's that you say, Paddy ? " asked Gashford, leaving his own separate and private fire, which he enjoyed with one or two chosen comrades, and approach- ing that round which the great body of the diggers were already assembled. " I was just goin' to tell the boys, sor, a bit of a ghost story." " Well, go on, lad, I 'd like to hear it too." "'Now or niver!*" repeated the Irishman, with such startling emphasis that even Tom Brixton, lying bound as he was under the slielter of a spreading tree at some distance from the fire, had his curiosity aroused. " That 'a what the gliost said, under somewhat pecooliar circum- stances ; an' he said it twice so that there might be no mistake at all about it. ' Now or niver ! now or niver !* says he, an' he said it earnestly — " "I didn't know that ghosts could speak," interrupted Crossby, who, when not in a bad humour, was rather fond of thrusting bad jokes and blunt witticisms on hia comrades. *' Sure, I 'm not surprised at that, for there 's many things ye don't know, Crossby ; besides, no ghost with the smallest taste of propriety about it would condoscind to spake wid you. Well, boys, that 's what the ghost said in a muffled vice — their vices are muffled, you know, an their virtues too, for all I know to the contrairy. It 's a good sentiment is that ' Now or niver ' for every wan of ye — so ye may putt it in yer pipes an' smoke it, an' those of ye who haven't got pipes can make a quid of it an' chaw it, or subject it to meditation. 'Now or niver !' Think o' that ! You see I 'ra partikler about it, for the whole story turns on that pint, as the ghost's life depended on it, but ye '11 see an' onderstan' better whin I come to the ind o' the story." M^ ^ Am m ^1! "NOW OR NIVER r— Page 26. :^ ii li A TALE OF TIFE OREGON GO'^DFIELDS. 29 Paddy said this so earnestly that it had the double effect of chaining the attention of his hearers and sending a flash of light into Tom Brixton's brain. "Now or never!" he muttered to himself, and turned gently on his side so as to be able to feel the cord that bound his wrists. It was still tight, but, by moving his fingers, he could feel that one of its coils had really been cut, and that with a little patience and exertion he might possibly free his hands. Slight as the motion was, however, Gashford observed it, for the fire-light shone brightly on Tom's recumbent figure. " Lie still, there I" he cried, sternly. Tom lay perfectly still, and the Irishman continued his story. It grew in mystery and in horror as he pro- ceeded, and his audience became entranced while some of the more superstitious among them cast occasional glances over their shoulders into the forest behind, which ere long was steeped in the blackness of an unusually dark night. A few of those outside the circle rose and drew nearer to the story-teller. At that moment a gleam of light which had already entered Brixton's brain flashed into that of Fred Westly, who arose, and, under pretext of being too far off from the speaker, went round to the opposite side of the fire so as to face him. By so doing he placed himself between the fire and his friend Tom. Two or three of the others followed his example, though not from the same motive, and thus, when the fire burnt low, the prisoner found himself lying in deep shadow. By that time he hao freed his benumbed hands, chafed them into a condition of vitality, and was considering whether he should en- deavour to creep quietly away or spring up and make a dash for life, I. T^ 80 TWICE BOUGHT : I . i: » i " ' Now or niver/ said the ghost, in a solemn mufflled vice," continued Paddy — " Who did he say that to ?" asked Gashford, who was by tliat time as much fascinated as the rest of the party. " To the thief, sor, av coorse, who was standin* tremblin* fornint him, while the sexton was diggin* the grave to putt him in alive — in the dark shadow of a big tombstone." The Irishman had now almost reached the climax of his story, and was intensely graphic in his descriptions — especially at the horrible parts. He was obviously spinning it out, and the profound silence around told how completely he had enchained his hearers. It also warned Tom Brixton that his time was short, and that in his case it was indeed " now or never." He crept quietly towards the bushes near him. In passing a tree against which several rifles had been placed he could not resist the temptation to take one. Laying hold of that which stood nearest, and which seemed to be similar in make to the rifle they had taken from himself when he was captured, he drew it towards him. Un- fortunately it formed a prop to several other rifles, which fell with a crash, and one of them exploded in the fall. The effect on Paddy's highly-strung audience was tremendous. Many of them yelled as if they had re- ceived an electric shock. All of them sprang up and turned round just in time to see their captive vanish, not unlike a ghost, into the thick darkness ! That glance, however, was sufficient to enlighten them. With shouts of rage many of them darted after the fugitive, and followed him up like bloodhounds. Others, who had never been very anxious for his capture or death, and had been turned somewhat in his favour by the bold stand he had made against the bear, returned to the fire after a short run. A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 31 If there had been even a glimmering of light Tom would certainly have been retaken at once, for not a few of his pursuers were quite as active and hardy as himself, but the intense darkness favoured him. Fortunately tho forest immediately behind him was not so dense as else- where, else in his first desperate rush, regardless of consequences, he would probably have dashed himself against a tree. As it was he went right through a thicket and plunged headlong into a deep hole. He scrambled out of this with the agility of a panther, just in time to escape Gashford, who chanced to plunge into the same hole, but not so lightly. Heavy though he was, however, liis strength was equal to the shock, and he would have Bcrambled out quickly enough if Crossby had not run on the same course and tumbled on the top of him. Amid the growling half-fight, half- scramble that ensued, Tom crept swiftly away to the left, but the pursuers had so scattered themselves that he heard them panting and stumbling about in every direction — before, on either hand, and behind. Hurrying blindly on for a few paces, he almost ran into the arms of a man whom he could hear, though he could not see him, and stopped. " Hallo ! is that you, Bill Smith?" demanded the man. "Ay, that's me," replied Tom, promptly, mimicking Bill Smith's voice and gasping violently. " I thought you were Brixton. He 's jubt i :issed this way. I saw him." " Did you ?— where ?" "Away there— to the left!" Off went the pursuer as fast as he dared, and Tom con- tinued his flight with more caution. " Hallo ! hi ! hooroo !" came at that moment from a long distance to the right, in unmistakable tones. " Here he is, down this way. Stop, you big thief! Howld him. Dick ! Have ye got him ?" ^1 I i -T 32 TWICE BOUGHT : I I There was a general rush and scramble towards the owner of the bass voice, and Tom, who at once perceived the ruse, went quietly off in the opposite direc- tion. Of course, the hunt came to an end in a very few minutes. Every one, having more or less damaged his head, knees, elbows, and shins, came to the natural con- clusion that a chase in the dark was absurd as well as hopeless, and in a short time all were reassembled round the fire, where Fred Westly still stood, for he had not joined in the pursuit. Gashford was the last to come up, with the exception of Paddy Flinders. The bully came forward, fuming with rage, and strode up to Fred Westly with a threatening look. "You were at the bottom of this !" he cried, doubling his huge fist. "It was you who cut the rope, for no mortal man could have untied it !" "Indeed I did not!" replied Fred, with a steady but not defiant look. "Then it must have bin your little chum Flinders. Where is he?" " How could Flinders ha' done it when he was tellin* a ghost story ?" said Crossby. Gashford turned with a furious look to the speaker, and seemed on the point of venting his ill-humour upon him, when he was arrested by the sound of the Irishman's voice shouting in the distance. As he drew nearer the words became intelligible. " Howld him tight, now ! d'ye hear ? Och ! whereiver have ye gone an' lost yersilf? Howld him tight till I come an' help ye ! What ! is it let him go ye have ? Ah ! then it 's wishin' I had the eyes of a cat this night, for I can't rightly see the length of my nose. Sure ye 've niver gone an' let him go? Don't say so, now!" wound up A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 33 but Paddy as, issuing from the wood, he advanced into the circle of light. " Who 's got hold of him, Flin ?" asked one of the men as he came up. "Sorrow wan o* me knows," returned the Irishman, wiping the perspiration from his brow ; " d'ye suppose I can see in the dark like the moles ? AU 1 know is that half a dozen of ye have bin shoutin' * Here he is !' an* another half-dozen, * No, he 's here — this way !' an* sure I ran this way an' then I ran that way — havin' a nat'ral disposition to obey orders, acquired in the Louth Militia — an' then I ran my nose flat on a tree — bad luck to it ! — that putt more stars in me hid than you '11 see in the sky this night. Ah ! ye may laugh, but it's truth I 'm tellin'. See, there's a blob on the ind of it as big as a chirry !" " That blob 's always there, Paddy," cried one of the men ; " it 's a grog-blossom." "There now, Peter, don't become personal. But tell mo — ye've got him, av coorse ?" "No, we haven't got him," growled Crossby. " Well, now, you *re a pnrty lot o' hunters. Sure if—" "Come, shut up, Flinders," interrupted Gashford, swallowing his wrath. (Paddy brought his teeth together with a snap in prompt obedience.) " You know well enough that we haven't got him, and you know you 're not sorry for it ; but mark my words, I '11 hunt him down yet. Who '11 go with me ?" " I '11 go," said Crossby, stepping forward at once. " I 've a grudge agin the puppy, and I '11 help to make him sv;ing if I can." Half a dozen other men, who were noted for leading idle and dissipated lives, and who would rather have hunted men than nothing, also offered to go, but the f I ! 34 TWICE BOUGHT : li most of the party had had enough of it, and resolved to return home in the morning. ' We can't go just now, however," said Crossby, " we 'd only break our legs or necks." " The moon will rise in an hour," returned Gashford ; " we can start then." He flung himself down sulkily on the ground beside the fire and began to fill his pipe. Most of the others followed his example, and sat chatting about the recent escape, while a few, rolling themselves in their blankets, resigned themselves to sleep. About an hour later, as had been predicted, the moon rose, and Gashford with his men set forth. But by that time the fugitive, groping his way painfully with many a stumble and fall, had managed to put a considerable distance between him and his enemies, so that when the first silvery moonbeans tipped the tree-tops and shed a faint glimmer on the ground, which served to make darkness barely visible, he had secured a good start, and was able to keep well ahead. The pursuers were not long in finding his track, however, for they had taken a Red Indian with them to act as guide, but the necessity for frequent halts to examine the footprints carefully delayed them much, while Tom Brixton ran straight on without halt or stay. Still he felt that his chance of escape was by no means a good one, for as he guessed rightly, they would not start without a native guide, and he knew the power and patience of these red men in following an enemy's trail. What made his case more desperate was the sudden diminution of his strength. For it must be borne in mind that he had taken but little rest and no food since his flight from Pine Tree Diggings, and the wounds he had received from the bear, although not dangerous, were painful and exhausting. ■r A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 35 igth. A feeling of despair crept over the stalwart youth when the old familiar sensation of bodily strength began to forsake him. Near daybreak he was on the point of casting himself on the ground to take rest at all hazards, when the sound of falling water broke upon his ear. His spirit revived at once, for he now knew that in his blind wandering he had come near to a well-known river or stream, where he could slake his burning thirst, and, by wading down its course for some distance, throw additional difficulty in the pursuers' way. Not that he expected by that course to throw them entirely off the scent, he only hoped to delay them. On reaching the river's brink he fell down on his breast, and, applying his lips to the bubbling water, took a deep refreshing draught. "God help me!" he exclaimed, on rising, and then feeling the burden of gold (which, all through his flight, had been concealed beneath his shirt, packed flat so as to lie close), he took it off and flung it down. " There," he said bitterly, *' for you I have sold myself body and soul, and now I fling you away 1" Instead of resting as he had intended, he now, feeling strengthened, looked about for a suitable place to enter the stream and wade down so as to leave no footprints behind. To his surprise and joy he observed the bow of a small Indi i canoe half hidden among the bushes. It had apparently been dragged there by its owner, and left to await his return, for the paddles were lying under it. Launching this frail bark without a moment's delay, he found that it was tight ; pushed off and went rapidly down with the current. Either he had forgotten the gold in his haste, or the disgust he had expressed was genuine, for he left it lying on the bank. He now no longer fled without a purpose. Many 7^ 36 TWICE BOUGHT : F' I . { miles down that same stream there dwelt a gold-digger in a lonely hut. His name was Paul Bevan. He was an eccentric being, and a widower with an only child, a daughter, named Elizabeth — better known as Betty. One phase of Paul Bevan's eccentricity was exhibited in his selection of a spot in which to search for the precious metal. It was a savage, gloomy gorge, such as a misanthrope might choose in which to end an unlovely career. But Bevan was no misanthrope. On the con- trary, he was one of those men who are gifted with amiable dispositions, high spirits, strong frames, and unfailing health. He was a favourite with all who knew him, and, although considerably past middle life, possessed much of the fire, energy, and light-heart Bdness of youth. There is no accounting for the acts of eccentric men, and we make no attempt to explain why it was that Paul Bevan selected a home which was not only far removed from the abodes of other men, but which did not produce much gold. Many prospecting parties had visited the region from time to time, under the impression that Bevan had discovered a rich mine, which he was desirous of keeping all to himself ; but, after searching and digging all round the neighbourhood, and discovering that gold was to be found in barely paying quantities, they had left in search of more prolific fields, and spread the report that Paul Bevan was an eccentric fellow. Some said he was a queer chap; others, more outspoken, styled him an ass, but all agreed in the opinion that his daughter Betty was the finest girl in Oregon. Perhaps this opinion may account for the fact that many of the miners — especially the younger among them — returned again and again to Bevan's Gully to search for gold although the search was not remunerative. Among those persevering though unsuccessful diggers had A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. B7 been, for a considerable time past, our hero Tom Brixton. Perhaps the decision with which Elizabeth Bevan repelled him had had something to do with his late reckless life. But we must guard the reader here from supposing that Betty Bevan was a beauty. She was not. On the other hand, she was by no means plain, for her com- plexion was good, her nut-brown hair was soft and wavy, and her eyes were tender and true. It was the blending of the graces of body and of soul that rendered Betty so attractive. As poor Tom Brixton once said in a moment of confidence to his friend Westly, while excusing him- self for so frequently going on prospecting expeditions to Bevan's Gully, " There 's no question about it, Fred ; she *s the sweetest girl in Oregon — pshaw ! in the world, I should have said. Loving-kindness beams in her eyes, sympathy ripples on her brow, grace dwells in her every motion, and honest, straightforward simplicity sits en- throned upon her countenance !" Even Crossby, the surly digger, entertained similar sentiments regarding her, though he expressed them in less refined language. " She 's a bu'ster," he said once to a comrade, " that 's what she is, an* no mistake about it. What with he^* great eyes glarin' affection, an' her little mouth smilin* good-natur', an' her figure goin' about as graceful as a small cat at play — why, I tell ee what it is, mate, with such a gal for a wife a feller might snap his fingers at hunger an' thirst, heat an' cold, bad luck an' all the rest of it. But she 's got one fault that don't suit me. She 's overly religious — an' that don't pay at the diggin's." This so-called fault did indeed appear to interfere with Betty Bevan's matrimonial prospects, for it kept a large number of dissipated diggers at arm's-length from her, and it made even the more respectable men feel shy in her presence. i % w^ 38 TWICE BOUGHT : Tom Brixton, however, had not been one of her timid admirers. He had a drop or two of Irish blood in iiis veins which rendered that impossible ! Before falling into dissipated habits he had paid his addresses to her boldly. Moreover, his suit was approved by Betty's father, who had taken a great fancy to Tom. But, as we have said, this Eose of Oregon repelled Tom. She did it gently and kindly, it is true, but decidedly. It was, then, towards the residence of Paul Bevan that the fugitive now urged his canoe, with a strange turmoil of conflicting emotions however; for, the last time he had visited the Gully he had been at least free from the stain of having broken the laws of man. Now, he was a fugitive and an outlaw, with hopes and aspirations blighted and the last shred of self-respect gone. 1i k TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 39 ii CHAPTEE IV. l.i ■ itf WHEN Tom Brixton had descended the river some eight or ten miles he deemed himself pretty safe from his pursuers, at least for the time being, as his rate of progress with the current far exceeded the pace at which men could travel on foot ; and besides, there was the strong probability that, on reaching the spot where the canoe had been entered and the bag of gold left on the bank, the pursuers would be partially satisfied as well as baffled, and would return home. On reaching a waterfall, therefore, where the navigable part of the river ended and its broken course through Bevan's Gully began, he landed without any show of haste, drew the canoe up on the bank, where he left it concealed among bushes, and began quietly to descend by a narrow footpath with which he had been long familiar. Up to that point the unhappy youth had entertained no definite idea as to why he was hurrying towards the hut of Paul Bevan, or what he meant to say for himself on reaching it. But towards noon, as he drew near to it, the thought of Betty in her innocence and purity oppressed him. She rose before his mind's eye like a reproving angel. How could he ever face her with the dark stain of a mean theft upon his soul ? How could he find courage I II M 40 TWICE BOUGHT : I «l! to confess his guilt to her ? or, supposing that he did not confess it, how could he forge the tissue of lies that would be necessary to account for his sudden appearance, and in such guise — bloodstained, wounded, haggard, and worn out with fatigue and hunger ? Such thoughts now drove him to the verge of despair. Even if Betty were to refrain from putting awkward questions, there was no chance whatever of Paul Bevan being so considerate. Was he then to attempt to deceive them, or was he to reveal all ? He shrank from answering the question, for he believed that Bevan was an honest man, and feared that he would have nothing further to do with him when he learned that he had become a common thief. A thief ! How the idea burned into his heart now that the influence of strong drink no longer warped his judgment ! "Has it really come to this?" he muttered, gloomily. Then, as he came suddenly in sight of Bevan's hut, he exclaimed more cheerfully, " Come, I *11 make a clean breast of it." • Paul Bevan had pitched his hut on the top of a steep rocky mound, the front of which almost overhung a pre- cipice that descended into a deep gully where the tor- mented river fell into a black and gurgling pool. Behind the hat flowed a streamlet, which being divided by the mound into a fork, ran on either side of it in two deep channels, so that the hut could only be reached by a plank bridge thrown across the lower or western fork. The forked streamlet tumbled over the precipice and descended into the dark pool below in the form of two tiny silver threads. At least it would have done so if its two threads had not been dissipated in misty spray long before reach- ing the bottom of the cliff. Thus it will be seen that the gold-digger occupied an almost impregnable fortress, though why he had perched himself in such a position no ' A TALE OF THE OREGON G0LDFIELD3. 41 one could guess and he declined to tell. It was there fore set down, like all his other doings, to eccentricity. Of course there was so far a pretext for his caution in the fact that there were scoundrels in those regions who sometimes banded together and attacked people who were supposed to have gold-dust about them in large quanti- ties, but as such assaults were not common, and as every- one was equally liable to them, there seemed no sufficient ground for Bevan's excessive care in the selection of his fortress. On reaching it Tom found its owner cutting up some firewood near his plank- bridge. " Hallo, Brixton !" he cried, looking up in some sur- prise as the young man advanced ; " you seem to have bin in the wars. What have 'e been fightin* wi', lad ?" " With a bear, Paul Bevan," replied Tom, sitting down on a log, with a long-drawn sigh. " You 're used up, lad, an' want rest ; mayhap you want grub also. Anyhow you look awful bad. No wounds, I hope, or bones broken, eh V " No, nothing but a broken heart," replied Tom with a faint attempt to smile. " Why, that 's a queer bit o' you for a b'ar to break. If you had said it was a girl that broke it, now, I could have—" "Where is Betty?" interrupted the youth, quickly, with an anxious expression. " In the hut, lookin' arter the grub. You '11 come in an' have some, of course. But I 'm coorious to hear about that b'ar. Was it far from here you met him ?" "Ay, just a short way this side o* Pine Tree Diggings." " Pine Tree Diggin's !" repeated Paul in surprise. " Why, then, didn't you go back to Pine Tree Diggin's I i 42 TWICE BOUGHT : to wash yourself, an* rest, instead o' comin' all the way here?" " Because — because, Paul Bevan," said Tom with sudden earnestness, as he gazed on the other's lace, " because I *m a thief !" " You might be worse," replied Bevan, while a pecu- liarly significant smile played for a moment on his rugged features. "What do you mean?" exclaimed Tom, in amaze- ment. " Why, you might have bin a murderer, you know," replied Bevan, with a nod. The youth was so utterly disgusted with this cool, in- different way of regarding the matter that he almost regretted having spoken. He had been condemning himself so severely during the latter part of his journey, and the meanness of his conduct as well as its wicked- ness had been growing so dark in colour, that Bevan's unexpected levity took him aback, and for a few seconds he could not speak. "Listen," he said at last, seizing his friend by the arm and looking earnestly into his eyes. " Listen, and I will tell you all about it." The man became grave as Tom went on with his nar- rative. " Yes, it *s a bad business," he said, at its conclusion, "an uncommon bad business. Got a very ugly look about it." "You are right, Paul," said Tom, bowing his head, while a flush of shame covered his face. "No one, I think, can be more fully convinced of the meanness — the sin — of my conduct than I am now — " " Oh ! as to that," returned Bevan, with another of his peculiar smiles, " I didn't exactly mean that You were TTT n A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 43 tempted, you know, pretty bad. Besides, Bully Gashford is a big rascal, an* richly deserves what he got. No, it wasn't that I meant — but it's a bad look-out for you, lad, if they nab you. I knows the temper o' them Pine Tree men, an* they're in such a wax just now that they '11 string you up, as sure as fate, if they catch you." Again Tom was silent, for the lightness with which Bevan regarded his act of theft only had the effect of making him condemn himself the more. " But, I say, Brixton," resumed Bevan, with an altered expression, "not a word of all this to Betty. You haven't much chance with her as it is, although I do my best to back you up ; but if she came to know of this affair, you'd not have the ghost of a chance at all — for you know the gal is religious, more 's the pity, though I will say it, she 's a good obedient gal, in spite of her religion, an' a 'fectionate darter to me. But she 'd never marry a thief, you know. You couldn't well expect her to." The dislike with which Tom Brixton regarded his companion deepened into loathing as he spoke, and he felt it difficult to curb his desire to fell the man to the ground, but the thought that he was Betty's father soon swallowed up all other thoughts and feelings. He resolved in his own mind that, come of it what might, he would certainly tell all the facts to the girl and then formally give her up, for he agreed with Bevan at least on one point, namely, that he could not expect a good religious girl to marry a thief ! " But you forget, Paul," he said, after a few moments' thought, "that Betty is sure to hear about this affair the first time you have a visitor from Pine Tree Diggings." "That's true, lad, I did forget that. But you know you can stoutly deny that it was you who did it. Say iJ 44 TWICE BOUGHT : I I tliere was some mistake, and git up some cock-an*- a-buU story to confuse her. Anyhow, say nothing about it just now." Tom was still meditating what he should say in reply' to this, when Betty herself appeared, calling her father to dinner. " Now, mind, not a word about the robbery," he whis- pered as he rose, " and we '11 make as much as we can '^^ the b'ar." " Yes, not a word about it," thought Tom, " till Betty and I are alone, and then — a clean breast and good-bye to her, for ever I" During dinner the girl manifested more than usual sympathy with Tom Brixton. She saw tliat he was almost worn out with fatigue, and listened with intense interest to her father's embellished narrative of the en- counter with the " b'ar," which narrative Tom was forced to interrupt and correct several times in the course of its delivery. But this sympathy did not throw her ofif h^^ guard. Eemembering past visits, she took special ( that Tom should have no opportunity of being alone wio.. her. " Now, you must be off to rest," said Paul Bevan, the moment his visitor laid down his knife and fork, " for, let me tell you, I may want your help before night. I *ve got an enemy, Tom, an enemy who has sworn to be the death o' me, and who will be the death o' me, I feel sure o' that, in the long-run. However, I '11 keep him off as long as I can. He 'd have been under the sod long afore now, lad — if — if it hadn't bin for my Betty. She 's a queer girl is Betty, and she 's made a queer man of her old father." " But who is this enemy, and when — what — ? explain yourself." TT A TALE OF THE OREGON G0LDFIELD3. 45 " Well, I 've no time to explain either ' when ' or ' what ' just now, and you have no time to waste. Only I have had a hint from a friend, early this morning, that my enemy has discovered my whereabouts, and is following me up. But I *m ready for him and right glad to have your stout arm to help — though you couldn't fight a babby just now. Lie down, I say, an' I *11 call you when you 're wanted." Ceasing to press the matter, Tom entered a small room, in one corner of which a narrow bed, or bunk, was fixed. Flinging himself on this, he was fast asleep in less than two minutes. " Kind nature's sweet restorer " held him so fast that for three hours he lay precisely as he fell, without the slightest motion, save the slow and regular heaving of his broad chest. At the end of that time he was rudely shaken by a strong hand. The guilty are always easily startled. Springing from his couch he had seized Bevan by the throat before he was quite awake. " Hist ! man, not qnite so fast," gasped his host, shak- ing him off. " Comi they 've turned up sooner than I expected." " What — who ?" said lirixton, looking round. " My enemy, of coorse, an* a gang of redskins to help him. They expect to catch us asleep, but they'll find out their mistake soon enough. That lad there brought me tne news, and, you see, he an' Betty are getting things ready." Tom glanced through the slightly opened doorway, as lie tightened his belt, and saw Betty and a boy of about fourteen years of age standing at a table busily engaged loading several old-fashioned horse-pistols with buckshot. " Who 's the boy ?" asked Tom. " They call him Tolly. I saved the little chap once ^'-»' I'lp 46 TWICE BOUGHT : from a grizzly b'ar, an* he 's a grateful feller, you see — has run a long way to give me warnin' in time. Come, here's a shot-gun for you charged wi* slugs. I'm not allowed to use ball, you must know, 'cause Betty thinks that balls kill an' slugs only wound ! I humour the little gal, you see, for she *s a good darter to me. We 've both on us bin lookin' forward to this day, for we knowed it must come sooner or later, an' I made her a promise that when it did come I 'd only defend the hut wi' slugs. But .slugs ain't bad shots at a close range, when aimed low." The man gave a sly chuckle and a huge wink as he said this, and entered the large room of the hut. Betty was very pale and silent. She did not even look up from the pistol she was loading when Tom entered. The boy Tolly, however, looked at his tall, strong figure with evident satisfaction. "Ha !" he exclaimed, ramming down a charge of slugs with great energy ; " we '11 be able to make a good fight without your services, Betty. Won 't we, old man ?" The pertly-put question was addressed to Paul Bevan, between whom and the boy there was evidently strong affection. " Yes, Tolly," replied Bevan, with a pleasant nod, " three men are quite enough for the defence of this here castle." " But, I say, old man," continued the boy, shaking a powder-horn before his face, " the powder 's all done. Where'lllgitmore?" A look of anxiety flitted across Bevan's face. " It 's in the magazine. I got a fresli keg last week, an' thought it safest to put it there till required — an' haven't I gone an* forgot to fetch it in !" "Well, that don't need to trouble you,** returned the boy , "just show me the magazine, sn' I '11 go an' fetch it in 1 " T A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 47 "The magazine's over the bridge," said Be an. "I dug it there for safety. Come, Tom, the keg 's too heavy for the boy. I must fetch it myself, and you must guard the bridge while I do it." He went out quickly as he spoke, followed by Tom and Tolly. It was a bright moonlight night, and the forks of the little stream glittered like two lines of silver at the bottom of their rugged bed on either side of the hut. The plank- bridge had been drawn up on the bank. With the aid of his two allies Bevan quickly thrust it over the gulf, and, without a moment's hesitation, sprang across. While Tom stood at the inner end, ready with a double-barrelled gun to cover his friend's retreat if necessary, he saw Bevan lift a trap-door not thirty yards distant and disappear. A few seconds, and he re-appeared with a keg on his shoulder. All remained perfectly quiet in the dark woods around. The babbling rivulet alone broke the silence of the night. Bevan semed to glide over the ground, he trod so softly. "There's another," he whispered, placing the keg at Tom's feet, and springing back towards the magazine. Again he disappeared, and, as before, re-issued from the hole with the second keg on his shoulder. Suddenly a phantom seemed to glide from the bushes and fell him to the earth. He dropped \»ithout even a cry, and so swift was the act that his friends had not time to move a finger to prevent it. Tom, however, discharged both barrels of his gun at the spo-, where the phantom seemed to dis- appear, and Tolly Trevor discliarged a horse pistol in the same direction. Instantly a rattling volley was fired from the woods, and balls whistled all round the defenders of the hut. Most men in the circumstances would have sought shelter, but Tom Brixton's spirit was of that utterly reck- i'l: III ^^ 48 TWICE BOUGHT : ! less character that refuses to count the cost before action. Betty's father lay helpless on the ground in the power of his enemies ! That was enough for Tom. He leaped across the bridge, seized the fallen man, threw him on his shoulder, and had almost regained the bridge, when three painted Indians uttered a hideous war-whoop and sprang after him. Fortunately, having just emptied their guns, they could not prevent the fugitive from crossing the bridge, but they reached it before there was time to draw in the plank, and were about to follow, when Tolly Trevor planted himself in front of them with a double-barrelled horse-pistol in each hand. "We don't want you here, you — red — faced — baboons !" he cried, pausing between each of the last three words to discharge a shot, and emphasising the last word with one of the pistols, which he hurled with such precision that it took full effect on the bridge of the nearest red man's nose. All three fell, but rose again with a united screech and fled back to the bushes. A few moments more and the bridge was drawn back, and Paul Bevan was borne into the hut amid a scatter- ing fire from the assailants, which, however, did no damage. To the surprise and consternation of Tolly, who entered first, Betty was found sitting on a chair with blood trick- ling from her left arm. A ball entering through the window had grazed her, and she sank down, partly from the shock coupled with alarm. She recovered, however, on seeing her father carried in, sprang up, and ran to him. " Only stunned, Betty," said Tom ; " will be all right soon, but we must rouse him, for the scoundrels will be upon us in a minute. What — what 's this — wounded ? " " Only a scratch. Don't mind me. Father ! dear A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 49 father — rouse up I They will be here — oh ! rouse up, dear father ! " But Betty shook him in vain, "Out o' the way, / know how to stir him up," said Tolly, coming forward with a pail of water and sending the contents violently into his friend's face — thus drench- ing him from head to foot. The result was that Paul Bevan sneezed, and, sitting up, lookea astonished. " Ha ! I thought that *ud fetch you," said the boy, with a grin. " Come, you'd better look alive if you don't want to lose yer scalp." " Ho ! ho ! " exclaimed Bevan, rising with a sudden look of intelligence and staggering to the door, "here, give me the old sword, Betty, and the blunderbuss. Now then." He went out at the door, and Tom Brixton was follow- ing, when the girl stopped him. " Oh ! Mr. Brixton," she said, " do not hill any one ii you can help it." " I won't if I can help it. But listen, Betty," said the youth, hurriedly seizing the girl's hand. " I have tried hard to speak with you alone to-day to tell you that I am guilty, and to say good-bye /or ever." "Guilty! what do you mean?" she exclaimed in be- wildered surprise. " No time to explain. I may be shot, you know, or taken prisoner, though the latter 's not likely. In any case remember that I confess myself guilty ! God bless you, dear, dear girl." Without waiting for a reply, he ran to a hollow on the top of the mound where his friend and Tolly were already ensconced, and whence they could see every part of the clearing around the little fortress. D 50 TWICE BOUGHT : f^ > I it " I see the reptiles," whispered Bevan, as Tom joined them. " They are mustering for an attack on the south side. Just what I wish," he added, with a suppressed chuckle, " for I Ve got a pretty little arrangement of cod- hooks and man-traps in that direction." As he spoke several dark figures* were seen gliding among the trees. A moment later, and these made a quick silent rush over the clearing to gain the slight shelter of the shrubs that fringed the streamlet. " Just so," remarked Bevan, in an undertone, when a crash of branches told that one nf his traps had taken effect, "an' from the row I should gu^^ss that two have gone into the hole at the same time. Ha ! that 's a fish hooked ! " he added, as a short sharp yell of pain, mingled with surprise, suddenly increased the noise. "An* there goes another!" whispered Tolly, scarcely able to contain himself with delight at such an effective yet comparatively bloodless wuy of embarrassing their foes. "And another," added Bevan; "but look out now; they '11 retreat presently. Give 'em a dose o* slug as they go back, but take 'em low, lads — about the feet and ankles. It 's only a fancy of my dear little gal, but I like to humour her fancies." Bevan was right. Finding that they were not only surrounded by hidden pit-falls, but caught by painfully sharp little instruments, and entangled among cordage, the Indians used their scalping-knives to free themselves, and rushed back again towards the wood, but before gain- ing its shelter they received the slug- dose above referred to, and instantly filled the air with shrieks of rage rather than of pain. At that moment a volley was fired from the other side of the fortress, and several balls passed close over the defenders' heads. ^ A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 51 in "Surrounded and outnumbered!" exclaimed Bevan, with something like a groan. As he spoke another but more distant volley was heard, accompanied by shouts of anger and confusion among the men who were assaulting the fortress. " The attackers are attacked," exclaimed Bevan, in sur- prise ; " I wonder who by." He looked round for a reply, but only saw the crouch- ing figure of Tolly beside him. " Where's Brixton V he asked. " Bolted into the hut," answered the boy. " Betty," exclaimed Tom, springing into the little parlour or hall, where he found the poor girl on her knees, " you are safe now. I heard the voice of Gashford, and the Indians are flying. But I too must fly. I am guilty, as I have said, but my crime is not worthy of death, yet death is the award, and, God knows, I am not fit to die. Once more — farewell" He spoke rapidly, and was turning to go without even venturing to look at the girl, when she said — '* Whatever your crime may be, remember that there is a Saviour from sin. Stay ! You cannot leap the creek, and even if you did you would be caught, for I hear voices near us. Come with me." She spoke in a tone of decision that compelled obedi- ence. Lifting a trap-door in the floor she bade her lover descend. He did so, and found himself in a cellar half full of lumber and with several casks ranged round the walls. The girl followed, removed one of the casks, and disclosed a hole behind it. " It is small," she said, quickly, " but you will be able to force yourself through. Inside it enlarges at once to a low tunnel, along which you will creep for a hundred yards, when you will reach open air in a dark, rocky dell ^ 52 TWICE BOUGHT : m close to the edge of the precipice above the river. Descend to its bed, and, when free, use your freedom to escape from death — but much more, to escape from sin. Go quickly ! " Tom Brixton would fain have delayed to seize and kiss his preserver's hand, but the sound of voices overhead warned him to make haste. Without a word he dropped on hands and knees and thrust himself through tlie aperture. Betty replaced the cask, returned to the upper room, and closed the trap-door just a lew minutes before her father ushered Gashford and his party into the hut. .J A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 63 CHAPTEE V. WHEN our hero found himself in a hole, pitch dark and barely large enough to permit of his creeping on hands and knees, he felt a sudden sensation of fear — of undefinable dread — come over him, such as one might be supposed to experience on awaking to the discovery that he had been buried alive. His first impulse was to shout for deliverance, but his manhood returned to him and he restrained himsalf. Groping his way cautiously along the passage or tunnel, which descended at first steeply, he came to a part which he could feel was regularly built over with an arch of brickwork or masonry, and the sound of running water overhead told him that this was a tunnel under the rivulet. As he advanced the tunnel widened a little and began to ascend. After creeping what he judged to be a hundred yards or so, he thought he could see a glimmer of light, like a faint star in front of him. It was the opening to which Betty had referred. He soon reached it, and emerged into the fresh air. As he raised himself, and drew a long breath of relief, the words of his deliverer seemed to start up before him in letters of fire — " Use your freedom to escape from death — but much more, to escape from sin." "I will, so help me God !" he exclaimed, clasping his hands convulsively and looking upward. In the strength ! 4' 54 TWICE BOUGHT V ,► of the new-born resolution thus induced by the Spirit of God, he fell on his knees and tried to pray. Then he rose and sat down to think, strangely forgetful of the urgent need there was for flight. Meanwhile Gashford and his men proceeded to question Paul Bevan and his ** daughter. The party included, among others, Fred Westly, Paddy Flinders, and Crossby. Gashford more than suspected the motives of the first two in accompanying him, but did not quite see his way to decline their services, even if he had possessed the power to do so. He consoled himself, however, with the reflection that he could keep a sharp eye on their move- ments. '* No, no, Bevan," he said, when the man brought out a case-bottle of rum and invited him to drink, " we have other work on hand just now. We have traced that young thief Brixton to this hut, and we want to get hold of him." " A thief is he ?" returned Bevan, with a look of feigned surprise. " Well, now, tliat is strange news. Tom Brixton don't look much like a thief, do he ?" (appealing to the by-standers). " There must be some mistake, surely." "There's no mistake," said Gashford, with an oath. " He stole a bag o' gold from my tent. To be sure he dropped it in his flight, so I 've got it back again, but that don't affect his guilt." " But surely. Mister Gashford," said Bevan slowly, for, having been hurriedly told in a whisper by Betty what she had done for Tom, he was anxious to give his friend as much time as possible to escape, " surely as you 've come by no loss, ye can afford to let the poor young feller off this time." "No, we can't," shouted Gashford, fiercely. "These mean pilferers have become a perfect pest at th( 'oo' I ! , I i : i "i A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 55 an* we intend to stop their little game, we do, by stoppin' their windpipes when we catcli them. Come, don't shilly-shally any longer, Paul Bevaii. He 's here and no mistake, so you 'd better hand him over. Besides, you owe us something, you know, for coming to your help agin the redskins in the nick of time." " Well, as to that, I am much obliged, though, after all, it wasn't to help me you came." " No matter," exclaimed the other impatiently, " you know he is here, an' you 're bound to give him up." " But I don't know that he 's here, an' I can't give him up, cause why ? he 's escaped." " Escaped ! impossible, there is only one bridge to this mound, and he has not crossed that since we arrived, 1 '11 be bound. There 's a sentry on it now." '* But an active young feller can jump, you know." " No, he couldn't jump over the creek unless he was a human flea or a Eocky Mountain goat. Come, since you won't show us where he is, we '11 take the liberty of sarchin' your piemises. But stay, your daughter's got the name o' bem' a religious gal. If there 's any truth in that she 'd be above tellin' a lie. Come now, Betty, tell us, like a good gal, is Tom Brixton here?" " No, he is not here," replied the girl. "Where is he, then?" " I do not know." "That's false, you do know. But come, lads, we'll sarch, and here 's a cellar to begin with." He laid hold of the iron ring of the trap- door, opened it, and seizing a light, descended, followed by Bevan, Crossby, Flinders, and one or two others. Tossing the lumber about he finally rolled aside the barrels ranged beside the wall, until the entrance to the subterranean way was discovered. i|. ^r I 66 TWICE BOUGHT : " Ho I ho 1" he cried, lowering the light and gazing into it. " Here 's something, anyhow." After peering into the dark hole for some time he felt with his hand as far as his arm could reach. " Mind he don't bite !" suggested Paddy Flinders, in a tone that drew a laugh from the by-standers. " Hand me that stick, Paddy," said Gashford, " and keep your jokes to a more convenient season." " Ah ! then 'tis always a convanient season wid me, sor," replied Paddy, with a wink at his companions as he handed the stick. " Does this hole go far in?" he asked, after a fruitless poking about with the stick. " Ay, a long way. More 'n a hundred yards," returned Be van. " Well, I '11 have a look at it." Saying which Gashford pushed the light as far in as he could reach, and then, taking a bowie-knife between his teeth, attempted to follow. We say attempted, because he was successful only in a partial degree. It must be remembered that Gashford was an unusually large man, and that Tom Brixton had been obliged to use a little force in order to gain an entrance. When, therefore, the huge bully had thrust him- self in about as far as his waist he stuck hard and fast, so that he could neither advance nor retreat ! He struggled violently, and a muffled sound of shouting was heard inside the hole, but no one could make out what was said. "Och! the poor cratur," exclaimed Paddy Flinders, with a look of overdone commiseration, *' what '11 we do for 'im at all at all?" " Let 's try to pull him out," suggested Crossby. They tried and failed, although as many as could manage it laid hold of him. I " A TALE OF TUE OREGON QOLDFIELDS. 57 ( " Sure ho minds me of a stiff cork in a bottle," said Flinders, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, " an* what a most awful crack he '11 make whin he does come out ! Let's give another heave, boys." They gave another heave, but only caused the muffled shouting inside to increase. " Och ! the poor cratur 's stritchin' out like a injinrubber man; sure he's a fut longer than he used to be — him that was a sight too long already," .said Flinders. "Let's try to shove him through," suggested the baffled Crossby. Failure again followed their united efforts — except as regards the muffled shouting within, which increased in vigour and was accompanied by no small amount of kick- ing by what of Gashford remained in the cellar. " I 'm afeared his legs *11 come off altogether if we try to pull harder than we 've done," said Crossby, contem- plating the huge and helpless limbs of the victim with a perplexed air. " What a chance, boys," suddenly exclaimed Flinders, " to pay off old scores with a tree-mendous wallopin' ! We could do it aisy in five or tin minutes, an' then lave 'im to think over it for the rest of his life." As no one approved of Paddy's proposal, it was finally resolved to dig the big man out, and a pick and shovel were procured for the purpose. Contrary to all expectations, Gashford was calm, almost subdued, when his friends at last set him free. Instead of storming and abusing every one, he said quietly but quickly, " Let us search the bush now. He can't be far off yet, and there's moonlight enough." Leading the way, he sprang up the cellar stair, out at the hut-door, and across the bridge, followed closely by his party. 58 TWICE BOUGHT : |) . ill t " Hooroo !" yelled Paddy Flinders, as if in the irrepres- sible ardour of the chase, but in reality to give Brixton intimation of the pursuit if he should chance to be within earshot. The well-meant signal did indeed take effect, but it came too late. It found Tom still seated in absorbed meditation. Rudely awakened to the consciousness of his danger and his stupidity, he leaped up and ran along the path that Betty had described to him. At the same moment it chanced that Crossby came upon the same path at its river-side extremity, and in a few moments each ran violently into the other's arms, and both rolled upon the ground. The embrace that Crossby gave the youth would have been creditable even to a black bear, but Tom was a match for him in his then condition of savage despair. He rolled the rough digger over on his back, half strangled him, and bumped his shaggy head against the conveniently- situated root of a tree. But Crossby held on with the tenacity of sticking-plaster, shouting wildly all the time, and before either could subdue the other Gashford and his men coming up stopped the combat. It were vain attempting to describe the conflict of Brixton's feelings as they once more bound his arms securely behind him and led him back to Paul Bevan's hut. The thought of death while fighting with man or beast had never given him much concern, but to be done to death by the rope as a petty thief was dreadful to contemplate, while to appear before the givl he ^ -d humiliated and bound was in itself a sort (^ ' >i ^^ ,^ death. Afterwards, when confined secur and left to himself for the night, with a ^ lue br ,ieb as a bed, the thought of home and motlie. camo lo him with overwhelming power, and finally mingled with his A TALE OF THE OREQON GOLDFIELDS. 59 dreams. But those dreams, however pleasant they might be at first and in some respects, invariably ended with the branch of a tree and a rope with a noose dangling at the end thereof, and he awoke again and again with a choking sensation, under the impression that the noose was already tightening on his throat. Tlie agony endured that night while alone in the dark cellar was terrible, for Tom knew the temper of the ''ggers too well to doubt his fate. Still hope, blessed nope, did not utterly desert him. More than once he struggled to his knees and cried to God for mercy in the Saviour's name. By daybreak next morning he was awakened out of the' first dreamless sleep that he had enjoyed, and bid get up. A slight breakfast of bread and water was handed to him, which he ate by the light of a home- made candle stuck in the neck of a quart bottle. Soon afterwards Crossby descended, and bade him ascend the wooden stair or ladder. He did so, and found the party of miners assembled under arms and ready for the road. " I 'm sorry I can't help 'ee," said Paul Bevan, drawing the unhappy youth aside, and speaking in a low voice. " I would if I could, for I owe my life to you, but they won't listen to reason. I sent Betty out o' the way, lad, a-purpose. Thought it better she shouldn't see you, but—" "Come, come, old man, time's up," interrupted Gash- ford, roughly ; " we must be off. Now, march, my young slippery-heels. I needn't tell you not to try to bolt again. You'll find it difficult to do that." As they moved off and began their march through the forest on foot, Tom Brixton felt that escape was indeed I w 60 TWICE BOUGHT : m out of the question, for, while three men marched in front of him, four marched on either side, each with rifle on shoulder, and the rest of the band brought up the rear. But even if his chances had not been so hopeless ' he would not have made any further effort to save him- self, for he had given himself thorouglily up to despair. In the midst c f this a slight sense of relief minded with the bitterness of disappointment when he found that Betty had been sent out of the way, and that he would see her no more, for he could not bear the thought of her seeing him thus led away. " May I speak with the prisoner for a few minutes ?" said Fred Westly to Gashford, as they plodded through the woods. " He has been my comrade for several years, and I promised his poor mother never to forsake him. May I, Gashford?" " No," was the sharp reply, and then, as if relentinnf^ " Well, yes, you may ; but be brief, and no underhand dealing, mind, for if you attempt to help him you shall be a dead man the lext moment, as sure as I 'm a living one. An' you needn't be too soft, Westly," he added, with a cynical smile. "Your chum has — Well, it's no business o' mine. You can oq to him." Poor Tom Brixton started as his old friend went up to him, and then hung his head. " Dear Tom," said Fred, in a low voice, " don't give way to despair. With God all things are possible, and even if your life is to be forfeited it is not too late to save the soul, for Jesus is able and willing to save to the uttermost. But I want to comfort you with the assur- ance that I will spare no effort to save you. Many of the diggers are not very anxious that you should bear the extrem.e punishment of the law, and I think Gashford may be bought over. If so, I need not tell you A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS, 61 that my little private store hidden away under the pine- tree—" " There is no such store, Fred/' interrupted Tom, with a haggard look of shame. " "What do you mean, Tom ? " " I mean that I gambled it all away unknown to you. Oh ! Fred, you do not, you cannot know what a fearful temptation gambling is when given way to, especially when backed by drink. No, it 's of no use your trying to comfort me. I do believe, now, that I deserve to die." " Whatever you deserve, Tom, it is my business to save you, if I can — both body u.nd soul ; and what you now tell me does not alter my intentions or my hopes. By the way, does Gashford know about this ?" " Yes, he knows that I have taken your money." " And that 's the reason," said Gashford himself, com- ing up at the moment, " that I advised you not to be too soft on your chum, for he 's a bad lot alto- gether." " Is the man v/ho knows of a crime, and connives at it, and does not reveal it, a much better * lot ' ?'" demanded Fred, with some indignation. " Perhaps not,'' replied Gashford, with a short laugh ; *' but as I never set up for a good lot, you see, there 's no need to discuss the subject. Now, fall to the rear, my young blade. Ilemember that I 'm in command of this party, and you kiiow, or ought to know, that I suffer no insolence in those under me." Poor Fred fell back at once, bitterly regietting that he had spoken out, and thus injured to some extent his influence with the only man who had the power to aid his condemned friend. It was near sunset wlien they reached Pine Tree Dig- 1 m 62 TWICE BOUGHT : ;i^i gings. Tom Brixton was thrust into a strong block- house, used chiefly as a powder magazine, but sometimes as a prison, the key of which was kept on that occasion in Gashford's pocket, while a trusty sentinel paced before the door. That night Fred Westly sat in his tent the personifica- tion of despair. True, he had not failed all along to lay his friend's case before God, and, up to tliis point, strong hope had sustained him ; but now, the only means by which he had trusted to accomplish his end were gone. The hidden hoard, o: which he liad counted too much, had been taken and lost by the very man he wished to save, and the weakness of his own faith was revealed by the disappearance of the gold — for he had almost for- gotten that the Almighty can provide means at any time and in all circumstances. Fred would not allow himself for a moment to think that Tom had stolen his gold. He only took it for a time, with the full intention of refunding it when better times should come. On this point Fred's style of reasoning was in exact accord with that of his unhappy friend. Tom never for a moment regarded the misappropriation of the gold as a theft. Oh no ! it was merely an appropriated loan — a temporary accommodation. It would be interesting, perhaps appalling, to know how many thousands of criminal careers have been begun in this way ! " Now, Mister Westly," said Flinders, entering the tent in haste, " what 's to be done ? It 's quite clear that Mister Tom 's not to be hanged, for there 's two or three of us '11 commit murder before that happens ; but I 've bin soundin' the boys, an' I 'm afeared there 's a lot o' the worst wans that '11 be glad to see him scragged, an' there 's a lot as won't r'^ their own necks to save him, an' what A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 63 betune the wan an' the other, them that'll fight for him are a small minority — so again I say, what's to he done?" Patrick Flinders's usually jovial face had by that time become almost as long and lugubrious as that of Westly. " I don't know," returned Fred, shaking his head. " My one plan, on which I had been founding much hope, is upset. Listen. It was this. I have been saving a good deal of my gold for a long time past and hiding it away secretly, so as to have something to fall back upon when poor Tom had gambled away all his means. This hoard of mine amounted, I should think, to something like five hundred pounds. I meant to have offered it to Gashford for the key of the prison, and for his silence while we enabled Tom once more to escape. But this money has, without my knowledge, been taken away and—" " Stolen, you mean !" exclaimed Flinders, in surprise. " No, not stolen — taken ! I can't explain just now. It 's enough to know that it is gone, and that my plan is thus overturned." "D'ee think Gashford would let him out for that?" asked the Irishman, anxiously. " I think so ; but, after all, I 'm almost glad that the money 's gone, for I can't help feeling that this way of enticing Gashford to do a thing, as it were slily, is under- hand. It is a kind of bribery." " Faix, then, it 's not c'ruption anyhow, for the baste is as c'rupt as he can be already. An', sure, wouldn't it just be bribin' a blackguard not to commit murther ?" " I don't know, Pat. It is a horrible position to be placed in. Poor, poor Tom 1" m 64 TWICE BOUGHT : If 1 1! i 1 :li !! it^ " Have ye had supper ?" asked Flinders, quickly. " No — I cannot eat." " Cook it then, an* don't be selfish. Other people can ait though ye can't. It'll kape yer mind employed — an' I '11 want somethin' to cheer me up whin I come back." Pat Flinders left the tent abruptly, and poor Fred went about the preparation of supper in a half mechanical way, wondering what his comrade meant by his strange conduct. Pat's meaning was soon made plain, that night, to a dozen or so of his friends, whom he visited personally and induced to accompany him to a sequestered dell in an out-of-the-way thicket, where the moonbeams struggled through the branches and drew a lovely pale-blue pattern on the green-sward. " My frinds," he said, in a low, mysterious voice, " I know that ivery mother's son of ye is ready to fight for poor Tom Brixton to-morrow, if the wust comes to the wust. Now, it has occurred to my chum Westly an' me that it would be better, safer, and surer to buy him up than to fight for him, an' as I know some o' you fel'ers has dug up more goold than you knows well what to do wid, an' you 've all got liberal hearts — lastewise ye should have, if ye haven't — I propose, an' second the resolootion, that we make up some five hundred pounds betune us an' presint it to Bully Gashford as a mark of our estaim — if he'll on'y give us up the kay o' the prison put Patrick Flinders, Esq., sintry over it, an' then go to slape till breakfast-time tomorry mornin*." This plan was at once agreed to, for five hundred pounds was not a large sum to be made up by men who — some of them at least — hud nearly made "their pile" — by which they meant their fortune, while the liberality of A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 65 heart with which they had been credited was not wanting. Having settled a few details, th i singular meeting broke up, and Patrick Flinders — acting as the secretary, treasurer, and executive committee — went off, with a bag of golden nuggets and unbounded self-confidence, to transact the business B ill €0 TWICE BOUGHT : HI CHAPTER VI. i'^ > i^liil aASHFORD was not quite so ready to accept Flinders's offer as that enthusiast had expected. The bully seemed to be in a strangely unusual mood, too — a mood which at first the Irishmem thought favourable to his cause. "Sit down," said Gashford, with less gruffness than usual, when his visitor entered his hut. " What d'ye want wi* me?" Flinders addressed himself at once to the subject of his mission, and became quite eloquent as he touched on the grandeur of the sum offered, the liberality of the offerers, and the ease with which the whole thing might be accomplished. Avery faint smile rested on Gashford's face as he proceeded, but by no other sign did he betray his thoughts until his petitioner had concluded. "So you want to buy him off?" said Gashford, the smile expanding to a broad grin. "If yer honour had bin born a judge an' sot on the bench since iver ye was a small spalpeen ye couldn't have hit it off more nately. That 's just what we want — to buy him off. It 's a purty little commercial transaction — a man's life for five hundred pound ; an*, sure it 's a good price to give too, consitherin' how poor we all are, an' what a dale o' sweatiu' work we 've got to do to git the goold." t f A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 67 " But suppose I won't sell," said Gashford, "what then?" " Faix, then, I '11 blow your brains out," thought the Irishman, his fingers tingling with a desire to grasp the loaded revolver that lay in his pocket, but he had the wisdom to restrain himself and to say, " Och ! sor, sure ye '11 niver refuse such a nat'ral request. An' we don't ask ye to help us. Only to hand me the kay o' the prison, remove the sintry, an' then go quietly to yer bed wid five hundred pound in goold benathe yer hid to drame on." To add weight to his proposal he drew forth the bag of nuggets from one of his capacious coat pockets and held it up to view. " It 's not enough," said Gashford, with a stern gruff- uess of tone and look which sank the petitioner's hopes below zero. " Ah ! then, Muster Gashford," said Flinders, with the deepest pathos, " it 's yer own mother would plade wid ye for the poor boy's life, av she was here — think o* that. Sure he's young and inexparienced, an' it's the first offince he 's iver committed — " " No, not the first," interrupted Gashford. " The first that I knows on," returned Flinders. " Tell me — does Westly know of this proposal of yours ?" " No sor, he doesn't." " Ah ! I thought not. With his religious notions it would be difficult for him to join in an attempt to bribe me to stop the course of justice." " Well, sor, you 're not far wrong, for Muster Westly had bin havin' a sort o' tussle wid his conscience on that very pint. You must know, he had made up his mind to do this very thing an' ofier you all his savin's — a thousand pound, more or less — to indooce you to help to G8 TWICE BOUGHT : h i ) L ' m 1 i.ii save his frind, but he found his goold had bin stolen, so, you see, sor, he couldn't do it." *' Did he tell you who stole his gold ?" " No, sor, he didn't — he said that some feller had took it~on loan, like, though I calls it stailin' — but he didn't say who." " And have you had no tussle with your conscience, Flinders, about this business ?" The Irishman's face wrinkled up into an expression of intense amusement at this question. " It 's jokin' ye are. Muster Gashford. Sure, now, me conscience — if I've got wan — doesn't bother me of tin ; an* if it did, on this occasion, I 'd send it to the right- about double quick, for it's not ofiferin' ye five hundred pound I am to stop the coorse o' justice, but to save ye from committin* murther! Give Muster Brixton what punishment the coort likes — for stailin' — only don't hang him. That 's all we ask." " You '11 have to pay more for it, then," returned the bully. " That 's not enough." " Sure we haven't got a rap more to kape our pots bilin', sor," returned Flinders, in a tone of despair. " Lastewise I can spake for myself, for I 'm claned out — all hut." "How much does the 'all but* represent?" " Well, sor, to tell you the raal truth, it 's about tsliwo hundred pound, more or less, and I brought it wid me, for fear you might want it, an' I haven't got a nugget more if it was to save me own life. It 's the truth I 'm tellin' ye, sor." There was a tone and look of such intense sincerity about the poor fellow as he slowly drew a second bag of gold from his pocket and placed it beside the first, that Gashford could not help being convinced. i • A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. G9 "Two hundred and five hundred," he said, medita- tively. " That makes siven hundred, sor," said Flinders, sug- gestively. The bully did not reply for a few seconds. Then, taking up the bags of gold, he threw them into a corner. Thereafter he drew a large key from his pocket and handed it to the Irishman, who grasped it eagerly. "Go to the prison," said Gashford, "tell the sentry you 've come to relieve him, and send him to me. Mind, now, the rest of this business must be managed entirely by yourself, and see to it that the camp knows nothing about our little commercial transaction, for, if it does, your own days will be numbered." With vows of eternal secrecy, and invoking blessings of an elaborate nature on Gashford's head, the Irishman hastened away, and went straight to the prison, which stood considerably apart from the huts and tents of the miners. " Who goes there ?" challenged the sentry as he approached, for the night was very dark. " Mesilf, av coorse." " An* who may that be, for yer not the only Patlander in camp, more 's the pity !" " It 's Flinders I am." Sure any man wid half an ear might know that. I *ve come to relave ye." " But you 've got no rifle," returned the man, with some hesitation. " Aren't revolvers as good as rifles, ay, an' better at close quarters ? Shut up your tatie-trap, now, an* be off" to Muster Gashford's hut, for he towld me to sind you there widout delay." This seemed to satisfy the man, who at once went away, leaving Flinders on guard. 70 TWICE BOUGHT : m 'Ml Without a moment's loss of time Paddy made use of the key and entered the prison. "Is it there ye are, avic?" he said, in a hoarse whisper, as he advanced with caution and outstretched hands to prevent coming against obstructions. " Yes ; who are you ?" replied Tom Brixton, in a stern voice. " Whist, now, or ye *11 git me into throuble. Sure, I *m yer sintry, no less, an' yer chum Pat Flinders." " Indeed, Paddy ! I *m surprised that they should select you to be my jailer." " Humph ! well, they didn't let me have the place for nothing — och ! musha !" The last exclamations were caused by the poor man tumbling over a chair and hitting his head on a table. " Not hurt, I hope," said Brixton, his spirit somewhat softened by the incident. " Not much — only a new bump — but it 's wan among many, so it don't matter. Now, listen. Time is precious. I 've come for to set you free — not exactly at this momiut, howiver, for the boys o' the camp haven't all gone to bed yet ; but whin they 're quiet I '11 come again an' help you to escape. I 've only come now to let you know." The Irishman then proceeded to give Tom Brixton a minute account of all that had been done in his behalf. He could not see how the news affected him, the prison being as dark as Erebus, but great was his surprise and consternation when the condemned man said, in a calm but firm voice, "Thank you, Flinders, for your kind intentions, but I don't mean to make a second attempt to escape." " Ye don't intind to escape !" exclaimed liis friend, with a look of blank amazement at the spot where the voice of the other came from. A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 71 " No ; I don't deserve to live, Paddy, so I shall remain and be hanged." " I '11 be hanged if ye do," said Paddy, with mnch decision. " Come, now, don't be talkin' nonsense. It 's jokin' ye are, av coorse." " I 'm very far from joking, my friend," returned Tom, in a tone of deep despondency, " as you shall find when daylight returns. I am guilty — more guilty than you fancy — so I shall plead guilty, whether tried or not, and take the consequences. Besides, life is not worth having. I'm tired of it!" " Och ! but we 've bought you, an' paid for you, an' you *ve no manner o' right to do what ye like wi' yourself," returned his exasperated chum. " But it 's of no use talkin' to ye. There 's somethin' wrong wi' your inside, no doubt. When I come back for ye at the right time you'll have thought better of it. Come, now, give us your hand." " I wish I could, Flinders, but the rascal that tied me has drawn the cord so tight that I feel as if I had no hands at all." " I '11 soon putt that right. Where are ye ? Ah, that 's it, now, kape stidy." Flinders severed the cord with his bowie knife, unwound it, and set his friend free. " Now thin, remain where ye are till I come for ye ; an' if any wan should rap at the door an* ax where 's the sintinel an' the kay, just tell him ye don't know, an' don't care ; or, if ye prefer it, tell him to go an' ax his grandmother." With this parting piece of advice Flinders left the prisoner, locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and went straight to Fred Westly, whom he found seated beside the fire with his face buried in his hands. 1 1 72 TWICE BOUGHT : !^ Ml " If Tom told you he wouldn't attempt to escape," said Westly, on hearing the details of all that his eccentric friend had done, " you may be sure tliat he '11 stick to it." "D'ye raaly think so, Muster Fred?" said his com- panion in deep anxiety. " I do. I know Tom Brixton well, and when he is in this mood nothing will move him. But, come, I must go to the prison and talk with him." Fred's talk, however, was not more effective than that of his fiiend had been. "Well, Tom," he said, as he and Flinders were about to quit the block-house, " we will return at the hour when the camp seems fairly settled to sleep, probably about midnight, and I hope you will then be ready to fly, Remember what Flinders says is so far true — your life has been bought and the price paid, whether you accept or refuse it. Think seriously of that before it be too late." Again the prison door closed, and Tom Brixton was left with this thought turning constantly and persistently in his brain : " Bought, and the price paid !" he repeated to himself, for the fiftieth time that night, as he sat in his dark prison. " 'Tis a strange way to put it to a fellow, but that does not alter the circumstances. No, I won't be moved by mere sentiment. I '11 try the Turk's plan, and submit to fate. I fancy this is something of the state of mind that men get into when they commit suicide. And yet I don't feel as if I would i^ill myself if I were free. Bah ! what 's the use of speculating about it ? Anyhow my doom is fixed, and poor Flinders with his friends will lose their money. My only regret is that that unmitigated villain Gashford will get it. It would not be a bad thing, now that my hands are free,, to run a-muck amongst 'em. I * A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 73 .U^> feel strength enough in me to rid the camp of a lot of devils before I should be killed ! But, after all, what good would that do me when I couldn't know it — couldn't know it ! Perhaps I could know it ! No, no 1 Better to die quietly, without the stain of human blood on my soul — if I have a soul. Escape 1 Easy enough, maybe, to escape from Pine Tree Diggings; but how escape from conscience? how escape from facts? — the girl I love holding me in contempt ! my old friend and chum regard- ing me with pity! character gone ! a life of crime before me ! and death, by rope, or bullet, or knife, sooner or later ! Better far to die now and have it over at once ; prevent a deal of sin, too, as well as misery. * Bought, and the price paid 1' 'Tis a strange way to put it, and there is something like logic in the argument of Paddy, that I've got no right to do what I like with myself ! Perhaps a casuist would say it is my duty to escape. Perhaps it is !" Now, while Tom Brixton was revolving this knotty question in his mind, and Bully Gashford was revolving questions quite as knotty and much more complex, and Fred Westly was discussing with Flinders the best plan to be pursued in the event of Tom refusing to fly, there was a party of men assembled under the trees in a mountain gorge, not far distant, who were discussing a plan of operations which, when carried out, bade fair to sweep away, arrest, and overturn other knotty questions and deep-laid plans altogether. It was the band of marauders who had made the abortive attack on Bevan's fortress. When the attack was made, one of the redskins who guided the miners chanced to hear the war-whoop of a personal friend in the ranks of the attacking party. Being troubled with no sense of honour worth mentioning, this faithless guide deserted at once to the enemy, and not 74 TWICE BOUGHT : ■11'^ only explained all he knew about the thief that he had been ti^cking, but gave, in addition, such information about the weak points of Pine Tree Diggings that the leader of the band resolved to turn aside for a little from his immediate purpose' and make a little hay while the sun shone in that direction. The band was a large one — a few on horseback, many on foot; some being Indiana and half-castes, others disappointed miners and desperadoes. A fierce villain among the latter was the leader of the band, which was held together merely by unity of purpose and interest in regard to robbery, and similarity of condition in regard to crime. " Now, lads," said the leader, who was a tall, lanky, huge-boned, cadaverous fellow v/ith a heavy chin and hawk-nose, named Stalker, " I '11 tell 'e what it is. Seems to me that the diggers at Pine Tree Camp are a set of out-an'-out blackguards — like most diggers — except this poor thief of a fellow Brixton, so I vote for attackin' the camp, carryin' off all the gold we can lay hands on in the hurry-skurry, an' set this gentleman — this thief Brixton— free. He's a bold chap, I'm told by the red- skin, an' will no doubt be glad to jine us. An' we want a few bold men." The reckless robber-chief looked round with a mingled expression of humour and contempt as he finished his speech, whereat some laughed and a few scowled. "Bu' ^ w shall we find Brixton?'' asked a man named GolT, who appeared to bo second in command. " I know tlio Pine Tree Camp, but I don't know where 's the nrison." " No matter," returned Stalker. '' The redskin helps us out o' that difficulty. He tells me the prison is a block- house, that was once used as a powder-magazine, and stands A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLUFIELDS. 75 ■ on a height a little apart from the camp. I *11 go straight to it, set the young chap free, let him jump up behind me and ride off, while you and the rest of the boys are makin* the most of your time among the nuggets. We shall all meet again at the Red Man's Teacup." "And when shall we go to work, captain?" asked the lieutenant. "Now. There's no time like the present. Strike when the iron's hot, boys!" he added, looking round at the men by whom he was encircled. " You know what we've got to do. Advance together, like cats, till we're within a yard or two of the camp, then a silent rush when you hear my signal, the owl's hoot. No shout- ing, mind, till the first screech comes from the enemy ; then, as concealment will be useless, give tongue all of you till your throats split if you like, an' pick up the gold. Now, don't trouble yourselves much about fighting. Let the bags be the main look-out— of course you'll have to defend your own heads, though I don't think there '11 be much occasion for that— an' you know if any of them are fools enough to fight for their gold, yor '11 have to dispose of them somehow." Having delivered this address with much eneigy, the captain of the band put himself at its head and led the way. While this thunder-cloud was drifting down on the camp, Fred Westly and Flinders were preparing for flight. They did not doubt that their friend would at the last be persuaded to escape, and had made up their minds to fly with him and share his fortunes. " We have nothing to gain, you see, Paddy," said Fred, " by remaining here, and, having parted with all our gold, have nothing to lose by going." " Thrue for ye, sor, an* nothin* to carry except our- 11 76 TWICE BOUGHT : I M^^ selves, worse luck 1" said the Irishman, with a deep sigh. " Howiver, we lave no dibts behind us, that *s wan comfort, so we may carry off cur weapons an' horses wid clear consciences. Are ye all ready now, sor ? " "Almost ready," replied Fred, thrusting a brace of revolvers into his belt and picking up his rifle. Go for the horses, Pat, and wait at the stable for me. Our neighbours might hear the noise if you brought them round here." Now, the stable referred to was the most outlying building of the camp in the direction in which the marauders were approaching. It was a small log-hut of the rudest description perched on a little knoll which over- looked the camp, and from which Tom Brixton's prison could be clearly seen, perched on a neighbouring knoll. Paddy Flinders ruminated on the dangers and per- plexities £hat might be in store for him that night as he went swiftly and noiselessly up to the hut. To reach the door he had to pass round from the back to the front. As he did so he became aware of voices sounding softly close at hand. A large log lay on the ground. With speed worthy of a redskin he sank down beside it. " This way, captain ; I 've bin here before, an* know that you can see the whole camp from it — if it wasn't so confoundedly dark. There 's a log somewhere — ah, here it is ; we '11 be able to see better if we mount it." "I wish we had more light," growled the so called captain; it won't be easy to make off on horseback in such — is this the log ? Here, lend a hand." As he spoke the robber-chief put one of his heavy boots on the little finger of Pat Flinders's left hand, and well- nigh broke it in springing on to the log in question ! A peculiarly Irish howl all but escaped from poor Flinders's lips. A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 77 " I see," said Stalker, after a few moments. " There 's enough of us to attack a camp twice the size. Now we must look sharp. I '11 go round to the prison and set Brixton free. When that 's done, 1 11 hoot three times— so— only a good deal louder. Then you ari the boys will rush in and — you know the rest. Come." Descending from the log on the other side, the two desperadoes left the spot. Tlien Paddy rose and ran as if he had been racing, and as if the prize of the race were life! " Bad luck to you, ye murtherin* thieves," growled the Irishman, as he ran, " but I '11 stop yer game, me boys ! " 78 TWICE BOUGHT : m CHAPTER VII. IPl V , AS straiglifc, and almost as swiftly, as an arrow, Flinders ran to bis tent, burst into tlie presence of bis amazed comrade, seized bim by botb arms, and exclaimed in a sbarp boarse voice, tbe import of whicb tbere could be no mistaking — " Whisbt ! — bowld yer tongue ! Tbe camp '11 be attacked in ten minutes ! Be obadient, now, an' foller mc. Flinders turned and ran out again, taking tbe patb to Gasbford's but with tbe speed of a bunted bare. Fred Westly followed. Bursting in upon tbe bully, wbo bad not yet retired to rest, tbe Irisbman seized bim by botb arms and repeated bis alarming words, witb tbis addition : " Sind some wan to rouse tbe camp — but silently ! No noise — or it's all up wid us !" There was something in Paddy's manner and look that commanded respect and constrained obedience — even in Gasbford. " Bill," be said, turning to a man who acted as his valet and cook, "rouse the camp. Quietly — as yo\x hear. Let no man act, however, till my voice is beard. You '11 know it when ye bear it !" " No mistake about that ! " muttered Bill, as he ran out on his errand. "Now — foller!" cried Flinders, catching up a bit of A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDEIELDS. 79 rope with one hand and a billet of firewood with the other, as he dashed out of the hut and made straight for the prison, with Gashford and Westly close at his heels. Gashford meant to ask Flinders for an explanation as he ran, but the latter rendered this impossible by out- running him. He reached the prison first, and had already entered when the others came up and ran in. He shut the door and locked it on the inside. " Now, then, listen, all of ye," he said, panting vehe- mently, "an' take in what I say, for the time's short. The camp '11 be attacked in five minits — more or less. I chanced to overhear the blackguards. Their chief comes here to set Muster Brixton free. Then — och ! here he comes ! Do as I bid ye, ivery wan, an' howld yer tongues." The latter words were said energetically, but in a low whisper, for footsteps were heard outside as if approaching stealthily-. Presently a rubbing sound was heard, as of a hand feeling for the door. It touched the handle and then paused a moment, after which there came a soft tap. "I'll spake for ye," whispered Flinders in Brixton's ear. Another pause, and then another tap at the door. "Arrah! who goes there?" cried Paddy, stretching himself, as if just awakened out of a sound slumber and giving vent to a mighty yawn. "A friend," answered the robber-chief through the keyhole. "A frind !" echoed Pat. " Sure an' that *s a big lie, if iv3i there was oii". Aren't ye goin* to hang me i' the mornin' ?" " No indeod, I ain't one o' tliis camp. But surely you can't be the man — thn — the thief — named Brixton, for you're an Irishman." 80 TWICE BOUGHT "An* why not?" demanded Flinders. "Sure the Brixton s are Irish to the backbone — an* thieves too — root an' branch, from Adam an* Eve downwards. But go away wid ye. I don't belave that ye 're a frind. You've only just come to torniint me an' spile my slape the night before my funeral. Fie for shame ! Go away an' lave me in pace.'* " You 're wrong, Brixton ; I *ve come to punish the blackguards that would hang you, an* set you free, as I '11 soon show you. Is the door strong ?" "Well, it's not made o* cast iron, but it's pretty tough." " Stand clear, then, an' I '11 burst it in wi' my foot," said Stalker. " Och 1 is it smashin' yer bones you '11 be after ! Howld fast. Are ye a big man ?" " Yes, pretty big." "That's a good job, for a little un would only bust hisself agin it for no use. You '11 have to go at it like a hoy-draulic ram." " Never fear. There 's not many doors in these diggin's that can remain shut when I want 'em open," said the robber, as he retired a few paces to enable him to deliver his blow with greater momentum. " Howld on a minit, me frind," said Paddy, who had quietly turned the ke} and laid hold of the handle ; " let me git well out o* the way, an' give me warnin* before you come." " All right. Now then, look out !" cried Stalker. Those inside heard the rapid little run that a man takes before launching himself violently against an object. Flinders flung the door wide open in the nick of time. The robber's foot dashed into empty space, and the robber himself plunged headlong, witli a tremendous crash, t • A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDa 81 on the floor. At the same instant Flinders brought his billet of wood down with all his might on the spot where he guessed the man's head to be. The blow was well aimed, and rendered the robber chief incapable of further action for the time being. " Faix, ye '11 not * hoot ' to yer frinds this night, any- how," said Flinders, as they dragged the fallen chief to the doorway, to make sure, by the faint light, that he was helpless. " Now, thin," continued Paddy, " we '11 away an' lead the boys to battle. You go an' muster them, sor, an' I '11 take ye to the inimy." " Have you seen their ambush, and how many there are?" asked Gashford. " Niver a wan have I seen, and I 've only a gineral notion o' their whereabouts." " How then can you lead us ?" " Obey orders, an' you '11 see, sor. I 'm in command to-night. If ye don't choose to f oiler, ye '11 have to do the best ye can widout me." " Lead on, then," cried Gashford, half amused and half angered by the man's behaviour. Flinders led the way straight to Gash ford's hut, where, as he anticipated, the man named Bill had silently collected most of the able-bodied men of the camp, all armed to the teeth. He at once desired Gashford to put them in fighting order and lead them. When they were ready he went off at a rapid pace towards the stable before mentioned. "They should be hereabouts. Muster Gashford," he said, in a low voice, " so git yer troops ready for action." " What do ye mean ?" growled Gashford. To this Flinders made no reply, but turning to Westly and Brixton, who stood close at his side, whispered them to meet him at the stable before the fight was quite over. B% TWICE BOUGHT : it I He then put his hand to his mouth and uttered three hoots like an owl " I believe you are humbugging us," said Gash ford. " Whisht, sor— listen !" The breaking of twigs was heard faintly in the distance, and, a few moments later, the tramp apparently of a body of men. Presently dark forms were dimly seen to be advancing. '* Now's your time, gineral ! Give it 'em hot," whispered Flinders. " Ready ! Present ! Fire !" said Gashford, in a deep, solemn tone, which the profound silence rendered dis- tinctly audible. The marauders halted, as if petrified. Next moment a sheet of flame burst from the ranks of the miners, and horrible yells rent the air, high above which, like the roar of a lion, rose Gashford's voice in the single word : — « Charge 1" But the panic-stricken robbers did not await the onset. They turned and fled, hotly pursued by the men of Pine Tree Diggings. " That '11 do !" cried Flinders to Brixton ; " they T not need us any more this night. Come wid me now." Fred Westly, who had rushed to the attack with the rest, soon pulled up. Eemembering the appointment, he returned to the stable, where he found Tom gazing in silence at Flinders, who was busily employed saddling their three horses. He at once understood the situation. " Of course you 've made up your mind to go, Tom ?" he said. "N — no," answered Tom. "I have not." " Faix, thin, you '11 have to make it up pritty quick now, for whin the boys come back the prisoners an' wounded men '11 be sure to tell that their chief came for A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 83 e the express purpose of rescuin' that * thief Brixton' — an' it *s hangin' that '11 be too good for you then. Eoastin' alive is more likely. It 's my opinion that if they catch us just now, Muster Fred an* I will swing for it too! Come, sor, git up ! " Tom hesitated no longer. He vaulted into the saddle. His comrades also mounted, and in a few minutes more the three were riding away from Pine Tree Diggings as fast as the nature of the ground and the darkness of the hour would permit. It was not quite midnight when they left the place where they had toiled so long and had met with so many disasters, and the morning was not far advanced when they reached the spring of the Eed Man's Teacup. As this was a natural and convenient halting-place to parties leaving those diggings, they resolved to rest and refresh themselves and their steeds for a brief space, although they knew that the robber-chief had appointed that spot as a rendezvous after the attack on the camp. " You see, it 's not likely they '11 be here for an hour or two," said Tom Brixton, as he dismounted and hobbled his horse, "for it will take some time to collect their scattered forces, and they won't have their old leader to spur them on, as Paddy's rap on the head will keep him quiet till the men of the camp find him." " Troth, I 'm not so sure o' that, sor. The rap was a stiff wan, no doubt, but men like that are not aisy to kill. Besides, won't the boys o' the camp purshoo them, which '11 be spur enough, an' if they finds us here, it '11 matter little whether we fall into the hands o' diggers or robbers. So ye *11 make haste av ye take my advice." They made haste accordingly, and soon after left ; and well was it that they did so, for, little more than an hour later, Stalker — his face covered with blood and his wmm 84 TWICE BOUGHT : ' > n ^.yiH* M; head bandaged — galloped up at the head of the mounted men of his party. " We *11 camp here for an hour or two," he said sharply, leaping from his horse, which he proceeded to unsaddle. " Hailo ! somebody 's bin here before us. Their fire ain't cold yet. Well, it don't matter. Get the grub ready, boys, an' boil tlie kettle. My head is all but split. If ever I have the luck to come across that Irish blackguard Brixton I '11—" He finished the sentence with a deep growl and a grind of his teeth. About daybreak the marauders set out again, and it chanced that the direction they took was the same as that taken by Fred Westly and his comrades. These latter had made up their minds to try their fortune at a recently discovered gold field, which was well reported of, though the yield had not been sufficient to cause a "rush" to the place. It was about three days* journey on horseback from the Red Man's Teacup, and was named Simpson's Gully, after the man who discovered it. The robbers' route lay, as we have said, in the same direction, but only for part of the way, for Simpson's Gully was not their ultimate destination. They happened to be better mounted than the fugitives, and travelled faster. Thus it came to pass that, on the second evening, they arrived somewhat late at the camping-place where Fred and his friends were spending the night. These latter had encamped earlier that evening. Supper was over, pipes were out, and they were sound asleep * "^ sn the robber band rode up. blinders was first to observe their approach. He awoke J... a comrades roughly. " Och ! the blackguards have got hov/ld of us. Be aisy, ^ Muster Brixton. No use fightin'. How Id yer tongues, A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 85 now, an' let me spake. Yer not half liars enough for the occasion, aither of ye." This compliment had barely been paid when they were surrounded and ordered to rise and give an account of themselves. "What right have yo7t> to demand an account of us?" asked Tom Brixton, recklessly, in a supercilious tone that was meant to irritate. " The right of might," replied Stalker, stepping up to Tom, and grasping him by the throat. Tom resisted, of course, but, being seized at the same moment by two men from behind, was rendered helpless. His comrades were captured at the same moment, and the arms of all bound behind them. *' Now, gentlemen," said the robber chief, " perhaps you will answer with more civility, " You are wrong, for I won't answer at all," said Tom Brixton, " which I take to be less civility." " Neither will I," said Fred, who had come to the con- clusion that total silence would be the easiest way of getting over the difficulties that filled his mind in regard to deception. Patrick Flinders, however, had no such difficulties. To the amazement of his companions, he addressed a speech to Stalker in language so broken with stuttering and stammering that the marauders around could scarcely avoid laughing, though their chief seemed to be in no mood to tolerate mirth. Tom and Frad did not at first understand, though it soon dawned upon them that by this means he escaped being recognised by the man with whom he had so recently conversed through the keyhole of Tom Brixton's prison door. " S-p-s-sor," said he, in a somewhat higher key than he was wont to speak, "my c-c-comrades are c-c-cross- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 25 WIIIIIM 1112.5 " ilM III 22 ul m '^ - lis lllllio 1.8 U ill 1.6 ■rf //a Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 W5ST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 11 86 TWICE BOUGHT : li^ ■ f I: g-grained critters b-both of *em, th-tb-though they're g-good enough in theii way, for all that. A-a-ax me what ye w-w-want to know." "Can't you speak without so many k-k-kays an' g-g-gees ?" demanded Stalker, impatiently. " N-n-no, s-sor, I c-can't, an* the m-more you t-try to make me the w-w-wus I g-gits." "Well, then, come to the point, an* don't say more than 's needful." " Y-y-yis, sor." " What 's this man's name ?" asked the chief, settling the bandages uneasily on his head with one hand, and pointing to Brixton with the other. "M-Muster T-T-T-om, sor." "That's his Christian name, I suppose?" " W-w-well, I 'm not sure about his bein* a c-c-c-Chris- tian." " Do yon spell it T-o-m or T-h-o-m ?" "Th-that depinds on t-t-taste, sor." "Bah! you're a fool!" "Thank yer honour, and I'm also an I-I-Irish m-man as sure me name's Flinders." "There's one of your countrymen named Brixton," said Ihe chief, with a scowl, " who 's a scoundrel of the first water, and I have a crow to pluck with him some day when we meet. Meanwhile I feel half-disposed to give his countryman a sound thrashing as part payment of the debt in advance." " Ah ! sure, sor, me counthryman '11 let ye off the dibt, no doubt," returned Flinders. " Hallo ! you seem to have found your tongue all of a sudden I" " F-faix, then, it 's b-bekaise of yer not houndin' me on. I c-c-can't stand bein' hurried, ye s-see. B-besides, I was A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 87 havin' me little j-j-joke, an* I scarcely sp-splutter at all whin I *m j-j-jokin*." "Where did you come from?" demanded the chief, sharply. "From P-Pine Tree D-Diggin's." " Oh, indeed ? When did you leave the camp ?" " On M-Monday mornin', sor." "Then of course you don't know anything about the fight that took place there on Monday night V «D-don'fcI, sor?" " Why don't you answer whether you do or not?" said Stalker, beginning to lose temper. " Sh-shure yer towld me th-that I d-d-don*t know, ar.' I 'm too p-p-purlite to c-contradic' yer honour." "Bah! you'reafooL" " Ye t-t-towld me that before, sor." The robber Ci:ief took no notice of the reply, but led his lieutenant aside and held a whispered conversation with him for a few minutes. Now, among ether blessings, Flinders possessed a pair of remarkably acute ears, so that, although he could not make out the purport of the whispered conversation, he heard, somewhat indistinctly, the words "Bevan" and " Betty." Coupling these words with the character of the men around him, he jumped to a conclusion and decided on a course of action in one and the same instant. Presently Stalker returned, and addressing himself to Tom and Fred, said — "Now, sirs, I know not your circumstances nor your plans, but I '11 take the liberty of letting you know some- thing of mine. Men give me and my boys bad names. We call ourselves Free-and-easy Boys. We work hard for our living. It is our plan to go round the country collecting taxes — revenue — or whatever you choose to JH .i^ifJ^ '! S.iSJllj rs VJ,. T^ 88 TWICE BOUGHT : f 11 call it, and punishing those who object to pay. Now, we want a few stout fellows to replace the brave men who have fallen at the poso of duty. Will you join us ?" " Certainly not," said Fred, with decision. " Of course not," said Tom. with contempt. " Well, then, my fine fellows, you may follow your own inclinations, for there *s too many willing boys around to make us impress unwilling ones, but I shall take the liberty of relieving you of your possessions. I will tax you to the full amount." He turned and gave orders in a low voice to those near him. In a few minutes the horses, blankets, food, arms, etc., of the three friends were collected, and themselves unbound. " Now," said the robber chief, " I mean to spend the night here. You may bid us good-night. The world lies before you — go !" "B-b-but, sor," said Flinders, with a perplexed and pitiful air. " Ye niver axed me if I 'd j-j-jine ye." "Because I don't want you," said Stalker. " Ah ! thin, it *s little ye know th-the j-j-jewel ye're th-throwin' away." "What can you do ?" asked the robber, while a slight smile played on his disfigured face. "What c-can I not do? ye should ax. W-w-why, I can c-c-c-cook, an' f-f-fight, an* d-dance, an' t-t-tell stories, an* s-s-sing an' — " "There, that'll do. I accept you," said Stalker, turning away, while his men burst into a laugh, and felt that Flinders would be a decided acquisition to the party. "Are we to go without provisions or weapons?" asked Fred Westly, before leaving. " You may have both," answered Stalker, " by joining i 'i 1^^ A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. f 89 Please us. If you go your own way — you go as you are. yourselves." " You may almost as well kill us as turn us adrift here in the wilderness without food or the means of procuring it," remonstrated Fred. " Is it not so, Tom ?" Tom did not condescend to reply. He had evidently screwed his spirit up— or down — to the Turkish condi- tion of apathy and contempt. " You 're young, both of you, and strong," answered the robber. " The woods are full of game, berries, roots, and fish. If you know anything of woodcraft yoTi caTi't starve." "An* 3-s-dure Tomlin's Diggin's isn't far — far off — straight f-f-fornint you," said Flinders, going close up to his friends, and whispering, "Kape round by Bevan's Gully. You'll be—" "Come, none of your whisperin* together!" shouted Stalker. " You 're one of us now. Flinders, so say good- bye to your old chums an' fall to the rear." " Yis, sor," replied the biddable Flinders, grasping each of his comrades by the hand and wringing it as he said, " G-g-good-bye, f-f-foolish b-boys (Bevan's Gully — sharp!), f-farewell f-for i-i-iver !" and, covering his face with his hands, burst into crocodile's tears while he fell to the rear. He separated two of his fingers, however, in passing a group of his new v3omrades, in order to bestow on them a wink which produced a burst of subdued laughter. Surprised, annoyed, and puzzled, Tom Brixton thrust both hands into his trousers pockets, turned round on his heel, and, without uttering a word, sauntered slowly away. Fred Westly, in a bewildered frame of mind, followed his example, and the two friends were soon lost to view — swallowed up, as it were, by the Oregon wild iiness. s 90 TWICE BOUGHT : CHAPTEK VIII. AFTEK walking through the woods a considerahle distance in perfect silence — for the suddenness of the disaster seemed to have bereft the two friends of speech — Tom Brixton turned abruptly and said — " Well, Fred, we 're in a nice fix now. What is to be our next move in this interesting little game ?" Fred Westly shook his head with an air of profound perplexity, but said nothing. ' " I Ve a good mind," continued Tom, " to return to Pine Tree Diggings, give myself up, and get hanged right off. It would be a good riddance to the world at large, and would relieve me of a vast deal of trouble." "There is a touch of selfishness in that speech, Tom — don't you think ? — for it would not relieve me of trouble ; to say nothing of your poor mother !" " You 're right, Fred. D'you know, it strikes me that I 'm a far more selfish and despicable brute than I used to think myself." He looked at his companion with a sad sort of smile j nevertheless, there was a certain indefinable ring of sincerity in his tone. " Tom," said the other, earnestly, " will you wait for me here for a few minutes while I turn aside to pray?" "Certainly, old boy," answered Tom, seating himself on a mossy bank. " You know I cannot join you." A TALE OB' THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 91 I "I know you can't, Tom. It would be mockery to pray to One in whom you don't believe ; but as I believe in God, the Bible, and prayer, you'll excuse my detaining you, just for — " " Say no more, Fred. Go ; I shall wait here for you." A slight shiver ran through Brixton's frame as he sat down, rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands. " God help me !" he exclaimed, under a sudden impulse, " I Ve come down very low, God help me 1" Fred soon returned. "You prayed for guidance, I suppose?" said Tom, as his friend sat down beside him. "I did." " Well, what is the result 1" "There is no result as yet— except, of course, the calmer state of my mind, now that I have committed our case into our Father's hands." " Your Father's, you mean." " No, I mean our, for He is your father as well as mine, whether you admit it or not. Jesus has bought you and paid for you, Tom, with His own blood. You are not your own." "Not my own? bought and paid for !" thought Brixton, recalling the scene in which words of somewhat similar import had been addressed to him. " Bought and paid for— twice bought 1 Body and soul !" Then, aloud, "And what are you going to do now, Fred?" " Going to discuss the situation with you." " And after you have discussed it, and acted according to our united wisdom, you will say that you have been guided." " Just so ! That is exactly what I will say and believe, for * He is faithful who has promised.'" J 1 i 'I i I 92 TWICE BOUGHT : I ii ^li: t! \i !i " And if you make mistakes and go wrong, you will still hold, I suppose, that you have been guided V "Undoubtedly I will — not guided, indeed, into the mistakes, but guided to what will be best in the long-run, in spite of them." " But, Fred, how can you call guidance in the wrong direction right guidance V " Why, Tom, can you not conceive of a man being guided wrongly as regards some particular end he has in view, and yet that same guidance being right, because leading him to something far better which, perhaps, he has not in view?" " So that," said Tom, with a sceptical laugh, " whether you go right or go wrong, you are sure to come right in the end !" " Just so ! *All things work together for good to them that love God.'" " Does not that savour of Jesuitism, Fred, which teaches the detestable doctrine that you may do evil if good is to come of it?" " Not so, Tom ; because I did not understand you to use the word wrong in the sense of sinful, but in the sense of erroneous — mistaken. If I go in a wrong road, knowing it to be wrong, I sin ; but if J. go in a wrong road mis- takenly, I still count on guidance, though not perhaps to the particular end at which I aimed — nevertheless, guidance to a good end. Surely you will admit that no man is perfect?" "Admitted." " Well, then, imperfection implies mistaken views and ill-directed action, moie or less, in every one, so that if we cannot claim to be guided by God except when free from error in thought and act, then there is no such thing as Divine guidance at all. Surely you don't hold that !" M A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDHELDS. 93 "Some have held it." " Yes ; * the fool hath said in his heart, There is no God/ — some have even gone the length of letting it out of the heart and past the lips. With such we cannot argue; their case admits only of pity and prayer." " I agree with you there, Fred ; but if your views are not Jesuitical, they seem to me to be strongly fatalistic. Commit one's way to God, you say ; then, shut one's eyes, drive ahead anyhow, and — the end will be sure to be all right !" " No, I did not say that. With the exception of the first sentence, Tom, that is your way of stating the case, not God's way. If you ask in any given difficulty, * What shall I do V His word replies, ' Commit thy way unto the Lord. Trust also in Him, and He will bring it to pass.* If you ask, * How am I to know what is best V the Word again replies, * Hear, ye deaf ; look, ye bli.id, that you may see.* Surely that is the reverse of shutting the eyes, isn't it? If you say, 'How shall I act?* the Word answers, * A good man will guide his affairs with discretion.' That 's not driving ahead anyhow, is it?" " You may be right," returned Tom, " I hope you ar§. But, come, what does your wisdom suggest in the present difficulty?" " The first thing that occurs to me," replied the other, " is what Flinders said just before v/e were ordered off" by the robbers. * Keep round by Bevan's Gully,' he said, in the midst of his serio-comic leave-taking ; and again he said, * Bevan's Gully— sAa?^? .'* Of course Paddy, with his jokes and stammering, has been acting a part all through this business, and I am convinced that he has heard something about Bevan's Gully; perhaps an attack on Bevan himself, which made him wish to tell us to go there." 94 TWICE BOUGHT : n lir I i l^'r * ,11 J' ■ I [I: " Of course ; how stupid of me not to see that before ! Let's go at once !" cried Tom, starting up in excitement. " Undoubtedly he meant that. He must have overheard the villains talk of going there, and we may not be in time to aid them unless we push on." "But in what direction does the gully lie?" asked Fred, with a puzzled look. Tom returned the look with one of perplexity, for they were now a considerable distance both from Sevan's Gully and Pine Tree Diggings, in the midst of an almost unknown wilderness. From the latter place either of the friends could have travelled to the former almost blind- fold ; but, having by that time lost their exact bearings, they could only guess at the direction. " I think," said Fred, after looking round and up at the sky for some time, " considering the time we have been travelling, and the position of the sun, that the gully lies over yonder. Indeed, I feel almost sure it does." He pointed, as he spoke, towards a ridge of rocky ground that cut across the western sky and hid much of the more distant landscape in that direction. . "Nonsense, man!" returned Tom, sharply, "it lies in precisely the opposite directioa Oui adventures have turned your brain, I think. Come, don't let us lose time. Think of Betty ; that poor girl may be killed if there is another attack. She was slightly wounded last time. Come 1" Fred looked quickly in his friend's face. It was deeply flushed, and his eye sparkled with unwonted fire. " Poor fellow ! his case is hopeless ; she will never wed him," thought Fred, but he only said, " I, too, \vould not waste time, but it seems to me we shall lose much if we go in that direction. The longer I study the nature of the ground, and calculate our rate of travelling since we left A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 95 the diggings, the more am I convinced that our way lies westward." " I feel as certain as you do," replied Tom with some asperity, for he began to chafe under the delay. " But if you are determined to go that way you must go by your- self, old boy, for I can't afford to waste time on a wrong road." "Nay, if you are so sure, I will give in and follow. Lead on," returned Tom's accommodating friend, with a feeling of mingled surprise and chagrin. In less than an hour they reached a part of the rocky ridge before mentioned, from which they had a magnificent view of the surrounding country. It was wilderness truly, but such a wilderness of tree and bush, river and lake, cascade and pool, flowering plant and festooned shrub, dense thicket and rolling prairie, backed here and there by cloud-capped hills, as seldom meets the eye or thrills the heart of traveller, except in alpine lands. Deep pervading silence marked the hour, for the air was perfectly still, and though the bear, the deer, the wolf, the fox, and a multitude of wild creatures were revelling there in the rich enjoyment of natural life, the vast region, as it were, absorbed and dissipated their voices almost as completely as their persons, so that it seemed but a grand untenanted solitude, just freshly laid out by the hand of the wonder-working Creator. Every sheet of water, from the pool to the lake, reflected an almost cloudless blue, excepting towards the west, where the sun, by that time beginning to descend, converted all into sheets of liq^uid gold. The two friends paused on the top of a knoll, more to recover breath than to gaze on the exquisite scene, for they both felt that they were speeding on a mission that might involve life or death. Fred's enthusi- 9e TWICE BOUGHT : M'^ 111 il i astic admiration, however, would no doubt have found vent in fitting words if he had not at the moment recognised a familiar landmark. " I knew it 1" he cried, eagerly. " Look, Tom, that is Ranger's Hill on the horizon away to the left. It is very faint from distance, but I could not mistake its form." " Nonsense, Fred ! you never saw it from tliis point of view before, and hills change their shape amazingly from different points of view. Come along." " No, I am too certain to dispute the matter any longer. If you will have it so, we must indeed part here. But, oh ! Tom, don't be obstinate ! Why, what has come over you, my dear fellow ? Don't you see — " " I see that evening is drawing on, and that we shall be too late. Good-bye ! One friendly helping hand will be better to her than none. I know I 'm right." Tom hurried away, and poor Fred, after gazing in mingled surprise and grief at his comrade until he dis- appeared, turned with a heavy sigh and went off in the opposite direction. " Well," he muttered to himself, as he sped along at a pace that might have made even a red man envious, " we are both of us young and strong, so that we are well able to hold out for a considerable time on such light fare as the shrubs of the wilderness produce, and when Tom discovers his mistake he'll make good use of his long legs to overtake me. I cannot understand his infatua- tion. But, with God's blessing, all shall yet be well." Comforting himself with the last reflection, and offering up a heartfelt prayer as he pressed on, Fred Westly was soon separated from his friend by many a mile of wilder- ness. Meanwhile Tom Brixton traversed the land with strides not only of tremendous length, but unusual "WE MUST INDEED PART HERE."— Page 96. G : i .ill iti. 'i 1 .■• A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 99 rapidity. His "infatuation" was not without its appro- priate cause. The physical exertions an4 sufferings which the poor fellow had undergone for so long a period, coupled with the grief, amounting almost to despair, which tormented his brain, had at last culminated in fever; and the flushed face and glittering eyes, which his friend had set down to anxiety about Sevan's pretty daughter, were, in reality, indications of the gathering fires within. So also was the obstinacy. For it must be admitted that the youth's natural disposition was tainted with that objectionable quality which, when fever, drink, or any other cause of madness operates in any man, is apt to assert itself powerfully. At first he strode over the ground with terrific energy, thinking only of Betty and her father in imminent danger; pausing now and then abruptly to draw his hand across his brow and wonder if he was getting near Bevan's Gully. Then, as his mind began to wander, he could not resist a tendency to shout. " What a fool I am !" he muttered, after having done this once or twice. " I suppose anxiety about that dear girl is almost driving me mad. But she can never — never be mine. I *m a thief ! a thief ! Ha ! ha-a-a-a !" The laugh that followed might have appalled even a red and painted warrior. It did terrify, almost into fits, all the tree and ground squirrels within a mile of him, for these creatures went skurrying ofi' to holes and top- most boughs in wild confusion when they heard it echoing through the woods. When this fit passed off Tom took to thinking again. He strode over hillock, swamp, and plain in silence, save when, at long intervals, he muttered the words, " Think, think, thinking. Always thinking! Can't stop think, thinking !" 100 TWICE BOUGHT : .' i I ilf! ">' Innumerable wild fowl, and many of the smaller animals of the woods, met him in his mad career, and fled from his path, but one of these seemed at last inclined to dispute the path with him. It was a small brown bear, which creature, although insignificant when compared with the gigantic grizzly, is, nevertheless, far more than a match for the most power- ful unarmed man that ever lived. This rugged creature chanced to be rolling sluggishly along as if enjoying an evening saunter at the time when Tom approached. The place was dotted with willow bushes, so that when the two met there was not more than a hundred yards between them. The bear saw the man instantly, and rose on its hind legs to do battle. At that moment Tom lifted his eyes. Throwing up his arms, he uttered a wild yell of surprise, which culminated in a fit of demoniacal laughter. But there was no laughter apparent on poor Tom's flushed and fierce visage, though it issued from his dry lips. Without an instant's hesitation he rushed at the bear with clenched fists. The animal did not await the charge. Dropping humbly on its fore-legs, it turned tail and fled, at such a pace that it soon left its pursuer far behind ! Just as it disappeared over a distant ridge Tom came in sight of a small pond or lakelet covered with reeds, and swarming with ducks and geese, besides a host of plover and other aquatic birds — most of them with out- stretched necks, wondering no doubt what all the hubbub could be about. Tom incontinently bore down on these, and dashing in among them was soon up to his neck in water ! He remained quiet for a few minutes and deep silence pervaded the scene. Then the water began to feel chill. The wretched man crept out, and, remembering his errand. I I U A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 101 resumed his rapid journey. Soon the fever burned again with intensified violence, and the power of connected thought began to depart from its victim altogether. While in this condition Tom Brixton wandered aim- lessly about, sometimes walking smartly for a mile or so, at other times sauntering slowly, as if he had no particular object in view, and occasionally breaking into a run at full speed, which usually ended in his falling exhausted on the ground. At last, as darkness began to overspread the land, he became so worn-out that he flung himself down under a tree, with a hazy impression on his mind that it was time to encamp for the night. The fever was fierce and rapid in its action. First it bereft him of reason and then left him prostrate, without the power to move a limb except with the greatest difficulty. It was about the hour of noon when his reasoning powers returned, and, strange to say, the first conscious act of his mind was to recall the words " twice bought," showing that the thought had been powerfully impressed on him before delirium set in. What he had said or done during his ravings he knew not, for memory was a blank, and no human friend had been there to behold or listen. At that time, however Tom did not think very deeply about these words, or, indeed, about anything else. His prostration was so great that he did not care at first to follow out any line of thought, or to move a limb. A sensation of absolute rest and total indifference seemed to enchain all his faculties. He did not even know where he was, and did not care, but lay perfectly still, gazing up through the overhanging branches into the bright blue sky, sometimes dozing off into a sleep that almobi resembled death, from which he awoke gently, to wonder, perhaps, in an idle way, what had come over him, and l! 102 TWICE BOUGHT : i' r hi f 1 I ■i then ceasing to wonder before the thought had become well defined. The first thing that roused him from this condition was a passing thought of Betty Bevan. He experienced something like a slight shock, and the blood which had begun to stagnate received a new though feeble impulse at its fountain-head, the heart. Under the force of it he tried to rise, but could not, although he strove manfully. At last, however, he managed to raise himself on one elbow, and looked round with dark and awfully large eyes, while he drew his left hand tremblingly across his pale brow. He observed the trembling fingers and gazed at them inquiringly. " I — I must have been ill. So weak, too ! Where am I ? The forest — everywhere ! What can it all mean ? what could it — Ah ! Betty — that was it. But what of her? Danger — yes — in danger. Ha ! now I have it ! " There came a slight flush on his pale cheeks, and, struggling again with his weakness, he succeeded in getting on his feet, but staggered and fell with a crash that rendered him insensible for a time. On recovering, his mind was clearer and more capable of continuous thought; but this power only served to show him that he was lost, and that, even if he had known his way to Bevan's Gully, his strength was utterly gone, so that he could not render aid to the friends who stood in need of it so sorely. In the midst of these depressing thoughts an intense desire for food took possession of him, and he gazed around with a sort of wolfish glare, but there was no food within his reach — not even a wild berry. " I believe that I am dying," he said at last, with deep solemnity. " God forgive me ! Twice bought ! Fred There was a — a thought dear girl (t u A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 103 k said that Jesus had bought my soul before the miners bought my life." For some time he lay motionless ; then, rousing him- self, again began to speak in low, disjointed sentences, among which were words of prayer. " It is terribib to die here — alone !" he murmured, recovering from one of his silent fits. " Oh that mother were here now ! dear, dishonoured, but still beloved mother ! Would that I had a pen to scratch a few words before — stay, I have a pencil." He searched his pockets and found the desired imple- ment, but he could not find paper. The lining of his cap occurred to him ; it was soft and unfit for his purpose. Looking sadly round, he observed that the tree against which he leaned was a silver- stemmed birch, the inner bark of which, he knew, would serve his purpose. With great difficulty he tore off a small sheet of it and began to write, while a little smile of contentment played on his lips. From time to time weakness compelled him to pause, and more than once he fell asleep in the midst of his labour. Heavy labour it was, too, for the nerveless hands almost refused to form the irregular scrawl. Still he persevered — till evening. Then a burning thirst assailed him, and he looked eagerly round for water, but there was none in view. His eyes lighted up, however, as he listened, for the soft tinkling of a tiny rill filled his ear. With a desperate effort he got upon his hands and knees, and crept in the direction whence the sound came. He found the rill in a few moments, and, falling on his breast, drank with feelings of intense gratitude in his heart. When satisfied he rose to his knees again and tried to return to his tree, but even while making the effort he sank slowly on his breast, pillowed his head on the wet green moss, and fell into a profound slumber. I r!! f i ni! 104 TWICE BOUGHT : '■ ■ i ' F1 i 41 1- I il H. i CHAPTER TX. WE left Fred Westly hastening through the forest to the help of his friends at Bevan's Gully. At first, after parting from his comrade, he looked back often and anxiously, in the hope that Tom might find out his mistake and return to him ; but, as mile after mile was placed between them, he felt that this hope was vain, and turned all his energies of mind and body to the task that la} before him. This was to outwalk Stalker's party of bandits and give timely warning to the Bevans ; for, although Elinders's hints had been vague enough, he readily guessed that the threatened danger was the descent of the robbers on their little homestead, and it naturally occurred to his mind that this was pro- bably the same party which had made the previous attack, especially as he had observed several Indians among them. Young, sanguine, strong, and active, Fred, to use a not inapt phrase, devoured the ground with his legs ! Some- times he ran, at other times he walked, but more frequently he went along at an easy trot, which, although it looked slower than quick walking, was in reality much faster, besides being better suited to the rough ground he had to traverse. Night came at last, but night could not have arrested him if it had not been intensely dark. This, however, fv 'f A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 105 i did not trouble him much, for he knew that the same cause would arrest the progress of his foes, and besides, the moon would rise in an hour. He therefore flung himself on the ground for a short rest, and fell asleep, while praying that God would not suffer him to sleep too long. His prayer was answered, for he awoke with a start an hour afterwards, just as the first pale light of the not quite risen moon began to tinge the clear sky. Fred felt very hungry, and could not resist the tendency to meditate on beefsteaks and savoury cutlets for some time after resuming his journey ; but, after warming to the work, and especially after taking a long refreshing draught at a spring that bubbled like silver in the moon- light, these longings passed away. Hour after hour sped by, and still the sturdy youth held on at the same steady pace, for he knew well that to push beyond his natural strength in prolonged exertion would only deduct from the end of his journey whatever he might gain at the commencement. Day broke at length. As it advanced the intense longing for food returned, and, to his great anxiety, it was accompanied by a slight feeling of faintness. He therefore glanced about for wild fruits as he went along, without diverging from his course, and was fortunate to fall in with several bushes which afforded him a slight meal of berries. In the strength of these he ran on till noon, when the faint feeling returned, and he was fain to rest for a little beside a brawling brook. " Oh ! Father, help me !" he murmured, as he stooped to drink. On rising, he continued to mutter to himself, " If only a tithe of my ordinary strength were left, or if I had one good meal and a short rest, I could be there in three hours ; but — " I i 106 TWICE BOUGHT : i^fl i I ;■ !'■ Uf ■ i: Whatever Fredas fears were, he did not express them. He arose and recommenced his swinging trot with some- thing like the pertinacity of a bloodhound on the scent. Perhaps he was thinking of his previous conversation with Tom Brixton about being guided by God in all circumstances, for the only remark that escaped him afterwards was, " It is my duty to act, and leave results to Him." Towards the afternoon of that day Paul Bevan was busy mending a small cart in front of his hut, when he observed a man to stagger out of the wood as if he had been drunk, and approach the place where his plank- bridge usually spanned the brook. It was drawn back, however, at the time, and lay on the fortress side, for Paul had been rendered somewhat cautious by the recent assault on his premises. "Hallo, Betty!" he cried. " Yes, father," replied a sweet musical voice, the owner of which issued from the doorway with her pretty arms covered with flour and her face flushed from the exertion of making bread. " Are the guns loaded, lass ?" "Yes, father," replied Betty, turning her eyes in the direction towards which Paul gazed. "But 1 see only one man," she added. " Ay, an a drunk man too, who couldn't make much of a fight if he wanted to. But, lass, the drunk man may have any number of men at his back, both drunk and sober, so it *s well to be ready. Just fetch the revolvers an' have 'em handy while I go down to meet him." "Father, it seems to me I should know that figure. Why, it's — no, surely it cannot be young Mister Westly!" " No doubt of it, girl. Your eyes are better than mine. A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 107 I but I see him clearer as he comes on. Young Westly — drunk — ha! ha ! — as a hatter! I'll go help him over." Paul chuckled immensely — as sinners are wont to do when they catch those whom they are pleased to call " saints " tripping — but when he had pushed the plank over, and Fred, plunging across, fell ai his feet in a ntate of insensibility, his mirth vanished and he stooped to examine him. His first act was to put his nose to the youth's mouth and sniff. " No smell o' drink there," he muttered. Then he untied Fred's neckcloth and loosened his belt. Then, as nothing resulted from these acts, he set himself to lift the fallen man in his arms. Being a sturdy fellow he succeeded, though with considerable difficulty, and staggered with his burden towards the hut, where he was met by his anxious daughter. " Why, lass, he 's no more drunk than you are !" cried Paul, as he laid Fred on his own bed. " Fetch me the brandy-flask — no ? Well, get him a cup of coffee, if ye prefer it." " It will be better for him, father ; besides, it is fortu- nately ready and hot." While the active girl ran to the outer room or " hall " of the hut for the desired beverage, Paul slily forced a teaspoonful of diluted brandy into Fred's mouth. It had, at all events, the effect of restoring him to consciousness, for he opened his eyes and glanced from side to side with a bewildered air. Then he sat up suddenly, and said — " Paul, thfj villains are on your track again. I 've hastened ahead to tell you. I 'd have been here sooner — but — but I 'm — starving." "Eat, than — eat before you speak, Mr. Westly," said Betty, placing food before him. " But the matter is urgent ! " cried Fred. i i 108 TWICE BOUGHT : ii h ■ I * r r " Hold on, Mr. Fred," said Paul ; " did you an' the enemy — whoever he may be, though I 've a pretty fair guess — start to come here together ?" " Within the same hour, I should think." " An* did you camp for the night ?" " No. At least I rested but one hour." " Then swallow some grub an' make your mind easy. They won't be here for some hours yet, for you 've come on at a rate that no party of men could beat, I see that clear enough — unless they was mounted." " But a few of the chief men were mounted, Paul." " Pooh ! that 's nothing. Chief men won't come on without the or'nary men. It needs or'nary men, you know, to make chief *uns. Ha ! ha ! Come, now, if you can't hold your tongue, try to speak and eat at the same time." Thus encouraged, Fred set to work on some bread and cheese and coffee with all the gusto of a starving man, and, at broken intervals, blurted out all he knew and thought about the movements of the robber band, as well as his own journey and his parting with Brixton. " 'Tis a pity, an' strange, too, that he was so obstinate," observed Paul. " But he thought he was right," said Betty , and then she blushed with vexation at having been led by impulse even to appear to justify her lover. But Paul took no notice. "It matters not," said he, "for it happens that you have found us almost on the wing, Westly. I knew full well that this fellow Buxley — " " They call him Stalker, if you mean the robber chief," interrupted Fred. " Pooh I Did you ever hear of a robber chief without half a dozen aliases?" rejoined Paul. "This Buxley, A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 109 havin' found out my quarters, will never rest till he kills me ; so as I 've no fancy to leave my little Betty in an unprotected state yet a while, we have packed up our goods and chattels — they ain't much to speak of — and intend to leave the old place this very night. Your friend Stalker won't attack till night — I know the villain well — but your news inclines me to set off a l.ttle sooner than I intended. So, what you have got to do is to lie down an' rest while Betty and I get the horse an' cart ready. We 'vc got a spare horse, which you *re welcome to. We sent little Tolly Trevor off to Briant's Gulch to buy a pony for my little lass. He should have been back by this time if he succeeded in gettin' it." " But where do you mean to go to ?" asked Fred. " To Simpson's Gully." " Why, that's where Tom and I were bound for when we fell in with Stalker and his band! We shall pro- bably meet Tom returning. But the road is horrible — indeed there is no road at all, and I don't think a cart could—" " Oh ! I know that," interrupted Paul, " and have no intention of smashing up my cart in the woods. We shall go round by the plains, lad. It is somewhat longer, no doubt, but once away, we shall be able to laugh at men on foot if they are so foolish as to follow us. Come now, Betty, stir your stumps and finish your packing. I'll go get the— " A peculiar yell rent the air outside at that moment, cutting short the sentence and almost petrifying the speaker, who sprang up and began frantically to bar the door and windows of the hut, at the same time growling, " They 've come sooner than I expected. Who 'd have thought it ! Bar the small window at the back, Betty, an' then fetch all the weapons. I was so taken up wi' til r n ? 110 TWICE BOUGHT : ri I ■1 you, Fred, that I forgot to haul back the plank ; that 's how they've got over. Help wi' this table — so — they'll have some trouble to batter in the door wi' that agin it, an' I 've a flankin' battery at the east corner to prevent them settin' the place on fire." While the man spoke he acted with violent haste. Fred sprang up and assisted him, for the shock — coupled, no doubt, with the hot coffee and bread and cheese — had restored his energies, at least for the time, almost as effectually as if he had had a rest. They were only just in time, for at that moment a man ran with a wild shout against the door. Finding it fast, he kept thundering against it with his heavy boots, and shouting Paul Bevan's name in unusually fierce tones. "Are ye there ?" he demanded at last, and stopped to listen. "If you'll make less noise mayhap ye '11 find out," growled Paul. " Och ! Paul, dear, open av ye love me," entreated the visitor, in a voice there was no mistaking. " I do believe it's my mate Flinders !" said Fred. Paul said nothing, but proved himself to be of the same opinion by hastily unbarring and opening the door, when in burst the irrepressible Flinders, wet from head to foot, splashed all over with mud and blood, and pant- ing like a race-horse. "Is that — tay ye've got there — my dear?" he asked in gasps. " No, it is coffee. Let me give you some." " Thank 'ee kindly — fill it up — my dear. Here 's wishin' — ye all luck !" Paddy drained the cup to the dregs, wiped his mouth on the cuff of his coat, and thus delivered himself — A TALE OP THE OREGON G0LDFIELD8. Ill " Now, don 't all spake at wance. Howld yer tongues an* listen. Av coorse, Muster Fred 's towld ye when an' where an' how I jined the blackguards. Ye '11 be able now to guess why I did it. Soon after I jined 'em I began to boast o' my shootin* in a way that would ha' shocked me nat'ral modesty av I hadn't done it for a raisin o' me own. Well, they boasted back, so I defied *em to a trial, an' soon showed 'em what I could do. There wasn't wan could come near me wi' the rifle. So they made me hunter-in-chief to the band then an' there. I wint out at wance an* brought in a good supply o* game. Then, as my time was short, you see, I gave em' the slip nixt day an' comed on here, neck an* crop, through fire an' water, like a turkey-buzzard wi' the cholera. An' so here I am, an' they '11 soon find out I 've given 'em the slip, an' they '11 come after me, swearin', perhaps ; an' if I was you, Paul Bevan, I wouldn't stop to say how d'ye do to them." "No more I will, Paddy — an', by good luck, we're about ready to start, only I 've got a fear for that poor boy Tolly. If he comes back arter we *re gone an* falls into their hands it'll be a bad look-out for him.'* " No fear o' Tolly," said Flinders ; " he *s a 'cute boy as can look after himself. By the way, where *s Muster Tom?" The reason of Brixton*s absence was explained to him by Betty, who bustled about the house packing up the few things that could be carried away, while her father and Fred busied themselves with the cart and horses outside. Meanwhile the Irishman continued to refresh himself with the bread and cheese. " Ye see it 's o' no manner o' use me tryin* to help ye, my dear," he said, apologetically, " for I niver was much of a hand at packin', my exparience up to this time ll 112 TWICE BOUGHT : if I ! 'M ft 'I havin' run pretty much in the way o' havin* little or nothin' to pack. Moreover, I 'm knocked up as well as hungry, an' ye seem such a good hand that it would be a pity to interfere wid ye. Is there any chance o' little Tolly turnin' up wi' the pony before we start?" " Every chance," replied the girl, smiling, in spite of herself, at the man's free-and-easy manner rather than his words. " He ought to have been here by this time. We expect him every moment." But these expectations were disappointed, for, when they had packed the stout little cart, harnessed and saddled the horses, and were quite ready to start, the boy had not appeared. " We durstn't delay," said Paul, with a look of intense annoyance, " an' I can't think of how we are to let him know which way we 've gone, for I didn't think of tell- ing him why we wanted another pony." " He can read, father, We might leave a note for him on the table, and if he arrives before the robbers that would guide him." " True, Betty ; but if the robbers should arrive before him, that would also guide them." " But we 're so sure of his returning almost imme- diately," urged Betty. " Not so sure o' that, lass. No, we durstn't risk it, an' I can't think of anything else. Poor Tolly ! he '11 stand a bad chance, for he's sure to come gallopin' up, an* singin' at the top of his voice in his usual reckless way." " Cudn't we stick up a bit paper in the way he 's bound to pass, wid a big wooden finger to point it out, and the word ' notice ' on it, writ big ?" " Oh ! I know what I '11 do," cried Betty Tolly will oe sure to search all over the place for us, and there 's one IB' A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 113 place, a sort of half cave in the cliff, where he and I used to read together. He'll be quite certain to look there." "Eight, lass, an' we may risk that, for the reptiles won't think o' sarchin' the cliff. Go, Betty ; write, ' We 're off to Simpson's Gully, by the plains. Follow hard.* That '11 bring him on if they don't catch him — poor Tolly !" In a few minutes the note was written and stuck on the wall of the cave referred to ; then the party set off at a brisk trot, Paul, Betty, and Flinders in the cart, while Fred rode what its owner styled the spare horse. They had been gone about two hours, when Stalker, alias Buxley, and his men arrived in an unenviable state of rage, for they had discovered Flinders's flight, had guessed its object, and now, after hastening to Be van's Gully at top speed, had reached it to find the birds flown. This they knew at once from the fact that the plank- bridge, quadrupled in width to let the horse and cart pass, had been left undrawn as if to give them a mocking invitation to cross. Stalker at once accepted the invita- tion. The astute Bevan had, however, anticipated and prepared for this event by the clever use of a saw just before leaving. When the robber-chief gained the middle of the bridge it snapped in two and let him down with a horrible rending of wood into the streamlet, whence he emerged like a half-drowned rat, amid the ill-suppressed laughter of his men. The damage he received was slight. It was only what Flinders would have called " a pleasant little way of showing attintion to his inimy before bidding him farewell." Of course every nook and corner of the stronghold was examined with the utmost care — also with consider- H ■p i"' !■ 114 TWICE BOUGHT : i i '.'I'. !i able caution, for they knew not how many more traps and snares might have been laid for them. They did not, however, find those for whom they sought, and, what was worse in the estimation of some of the band, they found nothing worth carrying away. Only one thing did they discover that was serviceable, namely, a large cask of gunpowder in the underground magazine formerly mentioned. Bevan had thought of blowing this up before leaving, for his cart was already too full to take it in, but the hope that it might not be discovered, and that he mij^ht afterwards return to fetch it away, induced him to spare it, Of course all the flasks and horns of the band were replenished from this store, but there was still left a full third of the cask which they could not carry away. With this the leader determined to blow up the hut, for he had given up all idea of pursuing the fugitives, he and ids men being too much exhausted for that. Accordingly the cask was placed in the middle of the hut and all the unportable remains of Paul Bevan's fur- niture were piled above it. Then a slow match was made by rubbing gunpowder on some long strips of calico. This was applied and lighted, and the robbers retired to a spot close to a spring about half a mile distant, where they could watch the result in safety while they cooked some food. But these miscreants were bad judges of slow matches ! Their match turned out to be very slow. So slow that they began to fear it had gone out — so slow that the day- light had time to disappear and the moon to commence her softly solemn journey across the dark sky — co slow that Stalker began seriously to think of sending a man to stir up the spark, though he thought there might be difficulty in finding a volunteer for the dangerous job — 1 A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 116 SO slow that a certain reckless little boy came galloping towards the fortress on a tall horse with a led pony- plunging by his side— all before the spark of the match reached its destination and did its work. Then, at last, there came a flash that made the soft moon look suddenly paler, and lighted up the world as if the suil had shot a ray right through it from the anti- podes. This was followed by a crash and a roar that caused the solid globe itself to vibrate and sent Paul Sevan's fortress into the sky a mass of blackened ruins. One result was that a fiendish cheer arose from the robbers' camp, filling the night air with discord. Another result was that the happy-go-lucky little boy and his horses came to an almost miraculous halt, and remained so for some time, gazing straight before them in a state of abject amazement I % Fl Ml :if 116 TWICE BOUGHT : CHAPTER X. HOW long Tolly Trevor remained in a state of horrified surprise do one can tell, for he was incapable of observation at the time, besides being alone. On return- ing to consciousness he found himself gallopmg towards the exploded fortress at full speed, and did not draw rein till he approached tlie bank of the rivulet. Reflecting that a thoroughbred hunter could not clear the stream, even in daylight, he tried to pull up, but his horse refused. It had run away with him. Although constitutionally brave, the boy felt an unplea- sant sensation of some sort as he contemplated the inevit- able crash that awaited him ; for, even if the horse should perceive his folly and try to stop on reaching the bank, the tremendous pace attained would render the attempt futile. " Stop ! won't you ? Wo-o-o !" cried Tolly, straining at the reins till the veins of his neck and forehead seemed about to burst. But the hrrse would neither "stop" nor "wo-o-o!" It was otherwise, however, with the pony. That amiable creature had been trained well, and had learned obedience. Blessed quality ! Would that the human race — especially its juvenile section — understood better the value of that inestimable virtue ! The pony began to pull back at the sound of " wo !" Its portion in childhood had probably been woe when it refused to recognise the order. The i; A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 117 t" result was that poor Tolly's right arm, over which was thrown the pony's rein, had to bear the strain of conflict- ing opinions. A bright idea struck his mind at this moment. Bright ideas always do strike the mind of genius at critical moments ! He grasped both the reins of his steed in his right hand, and took a sudden turn of them round his wrist Then he turned about — not an instant too soon — looked the pony straight in the face, and said " WO !" in a voice of command that was irresistible. The pony stopped at once, stuck out its fore legs, and was absolutely dragged a short way over the ground. The strain on Tolly's arm was awful, but the arm was a stout one, though small. It stood the strain, and the obstinate run- away was arrested on the brink of destruction with an almost broken jaw. The boy slipped to the ground and hastily fastened the steeds to a tree. Even in that hour of supreme anxiet^i he could not help felicitating himself on the successful application of pony docility to horsey self-will. But these and all other feelings of humour and satis- faction were speedily put to flight when, after oi'ossing the remains of the plank bridge with some difficulty, he stood before the hideous wreck of his friend's late home, where he had spent so many glad hours listening to marvellous adventures from Paul Bevan, or learning how to read and cipher, as well as drinking in wisdom generally, from the Kose of Oregon. It was an awful collapse. A yawning gulf had been driven into the earth, and the hut — originally a solid structure — having been hurled bodily skyward, shattered to atoms, and inextricably mixed in its parts, had come down again into the gulf as into a ready-made grave. It would be vain to search for r^ny sort of letter, sign, t. i' % m i m\ ! II. m H I ^ I '■}■ j ji; 1 n 1 118 TWICE BOUGHT : cr communication from his friends among the debris. Tolly felt that at once, yet he could not think of leaving without a search. After one deep and prolonged sigh he threw off his lethargy, and began a close inspection of the surroundings. " You see," he muttered to himself, as he moved quickly yet stealthily about, " they 'd never have gone off without leavin* some scrap of information for me, to tell me which way they *d gone, even though they *d gone off in a lightnin* hurry. But p'raps they didn't. The reptiles may have comed on 'em unawares, an' left 'em no time to do any- thing. Of course they can't have killed 'em. Nobody ever could catch Paul Bevan asleep — no, not the sharpest redskin in the land. That 's quite out o* the question." Though out of the question, however, the bare thought of such a catastrophe caused little Trevor's under lip to tremble, a mist to obscure his vision, and a something-or • other to fill his throat, which he had to swallow with a gulp. Moreover, he went back to the ruined hut and began to pull about the wreck with a fluttering heart, lest he should come on some evidence that his friends had been murdered. Then he went to the highest part of the rock to rest a little, and consider what had best be done next. While seated there, gazing on the scene of silent desolation, which the pale moonlight rendered more ghastly, the poor boy's spirit failed him a little. He buried his face in his hands and burst into tears. Soon this weakness, as he deemed it, passed away. He dried his eyes, roughly, and rose to resume his search, and it is more than probable that he would ere long have bethought him of the cave where Betty had left her note, if his attention had not been suddenly arrested by a faint glimmer of ruddy light in a distant part of the forest. f fSm'^M'M A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 119 ■ The robbers wore stirring up their fires, and sending a tell-tale glow into the sky. " 0-ho I" exclaimed Tolly Trevor. He said nothing more, but there was a depth of mean- ing in the tone and look accompanying that " 0-ho !" which baffles description. Tightening his belt, he at once glided down the slope» flitted across the rivulet, skimmed over the open space, and melted into the forest after the most approved method of Eed Indian tactics. The expedition from which he had just returned having been peaceful, little Trevor carried no warlike weapons — for the long bowie-knife at his side, and the little hatchet stuck in his girdle, were, so to speak, merely domestic implements, without which he never moved abroad. But as war was not his object, the want of rifle and revolver mattered little. He soon reached the neighbourhood of the robbers* fire, and, when close enough to render extreme caution necessary, threw himself flat on the ground and advanced & la " snake- in-the-grass." Presently he came within earshot, and listened atten- tively, though without much interest, to a deal of boastful small talk with which the marauders beguiled the time, while they fumigated their mouths and noses preparatory to turning in for the night. At last the name of Paul Bevan smote his ear, causing it, metaphorically, to go on full cock. " I 'm sartin sure," said one of the speakers, " that the old screw has gone right away to Simpson's Gully." " If I thought that I 'd follow him up, and make a dash at the Gully itself," said Stalker, plucking a burning stick from the fire to rekindle his pipe. " If you did you 'd get wopped," remarked Goff, with a touch of sarcasm, for the lieutenant of the band was not '\h 1 1 • + i 11 120 TWICE BOUGHT : i h ii'i V: so respectful to his commander as a well-disciplined man should be. " What makes you think so ?" demanded the chief. " The fact that the diggers are a sight too many for us," returned Gofif. " Why, we *d find 'em three to one, if not four." " Well, that, coupled with the uncertainty of his having gone to Simpson's Gully," said the chief, " decides me to make tracks down south to the big woods on the slopes of the Sawback Hills. There are plenty of parties travel- ling thereabouts with lots of gold, boys, and difficulties enough in the way of hunting us out o' the stronghold. I '11 leave you there for a short time and make a private excursion to Simpson's Gully, to see if my enemy an' the beautiful Betty are there." " An' get yourself shot or stuck for your pains," said Goff. " Do you suppose that such a hulking, long-legged fellow as you are can creep into a camp like an or'nary man without drawin' attention ?" "Perhaps not," returned Stalker; "but are there not such thingjs as disguises ? Have you not seen me with my shootin'-coat and botanical box an' blue spectacles, an' my naturally sandy hair — " " No, no, captain 1" cried GofF, with a laugh, " not sandy ; say yellow, or golden." " Well, golden, then, if you will. You *ve seen it dyed black, haven't you?" " Oh yes ! I 've seen you in these humblin* circum- stances before now," returned the lieutenant, " and I must say your own mother wouldn't know you. But what 's the use o' runnin' the risk, captain ?" "Because I owe Bevan a grudge!" said the chief, sternly, "and mean to be revenged on him. Besides, I want the sweet Betty for a wife, and intend to have her, A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 121 whether she will or no. She *11 make a capital bandit's wife — after a little while, when she gets used to the life. So now you know some of my plans, and you shall see whether the hulking botanist won't carry all before him." "0-ho!" muttered the snake- in-the-gi'ass, very softly; and there was something so compound and significant in the tone of that second "0-ho I" soft though it was, that it not only baffles description, but — really, you know, it would be an insult to your understanding, good reader, to say more in the way of explanation ! There was also a heaving of the snake's shoulders, which, although un- accompanied by sound, was eminently suggestive. Feeling that he had by that time heard quite enough. Tolly Trevor effected a masterly retreat, and returned to the place where he had left the horses. On the way he recalled with satisfaction the fact that Paul Bevan had once pointed out to him the exact direction of Simpson's Gully at a time when he meant to send him on an errand thither. " You 've on'y to go over there, lad," Paul had Baid, pointing towards the forest in rear of his hut, " and hold on for two days straight as the crow flies till you come to it. You can't well miss it." Tolly knew that there was also an easier though longer route by the plains, but as he was not sure of it he made up his mind to take to the forest. The boy was sufficiently trained in woodcraft to feel pretty confident of finding his way, for he knew the north side of trees by their bark, and could find out the north star when the sky was clear, besides possessing a sort of natural aptitude for holding on in a straight line. He mounted the obstinate horse, therefore, took the rein of the obedient pony on his right arm, and, casting a last look of profound regret on Bevan's desolated homestead, rode / 122 TWICE BOUGHT : H" swiftly away. So eager was he that he took no thought for the morrow. He knew that the wallet slung at his saddle-bow contained a small supply of food — as much, probably, as would last three days with care. That was enough to render Tolly Trevor the most independent and careless youth in Oregon. While these events were occurring in the neighbour- liood of Bevan's Gully, three red men, in all the glory of vermilion, charcoal, and feathers, were stalking through the forest in the vicinity of the spot where poor Tom Brixton had laid him down to die. These children of the wilderness stalked in single file — from habit, we presume, for there was ample space for them to have walked abreast if so inclined. They seemed to be unsociable beings, for they also stalked in solemn silence. Suddenly the first savage came to an abrupt pause, and said, "Ho!" the second savage said "He!" and the third said " Hi !" After which, for full a minute, they stared at the ground in silent wonder and said nothing. They had seen a footprint ! It did not by any means resemble that deep, well developed, and very solitary footprint at which Kobinson Crusoe is wont to stare in nursery picture-books. No; it was a print which was totally invisible to ordinary eyes, and revealed' itself to these children of the woods in the form of a turned leaf and a cracked twig. Such as it was, it reveal '^d a track which the three children followed up until they found Tom Brixton — or his body — lying on the ground near to the little spring. Again these children said "Ho!" "He!" and "Hi!" respectively, in varying tones according to their varied character. Then they commenced a jabber, which we are quite unable to translate, and turned Tom over on his back. The motion awoke him, for he sat up and stared / m i #1 \ litii 1 It! fp ' :if? < \ ■I ji THEY STALKED AWAY WITH HIM.— Page 125. A TALK OV TlIK OREGON G0LI)FIKLD8. 125 Kver that effort proved too much for him in his weak state, for he fell back and fainted. The Indians proved to be men of promptitude. They lifted the white man up ; one got Tom's shoulders on his back, another put his legs over his shoulders, and thus they stalked away with him. When the first child of the wood grew tired, the unburdened one stepped in to his relief; when the second child grew tired, the first one went to his aid ; when all the children grew tired, they laid their burden on the ground and sat down beside it. Thus, by easy stages, was Tom Brixton conveyed away from the spot where he had given himself up as hopelessly lost. Now, it could not have been more than six hours after Tom had thus been borne away that poor Tolly Trevor came upon the same scrne. We say " poor " advisedly, for he had not only suffered the loss of much fragmentary clothing in his passage through that tangled wood, but also most of the food with which he had started, and a good deal of skin from his shins, elbows, knuckles, and knees, as well as the greater part of his patience. Truly, he was in a pitiable plight, for the forest had turned out to be almost impassable for horses, and in his journey he had not only fallen oft and been swept out of the saddle by overhanging branches frequently, but had to swim swamps, cross torrents, climb precipitous banks, and had stuck in quagmires innumerable. As for the horses — their previous owner could not have recognised them. It is true they were what is styled " all there," but there was an inexpressible droop of their heads and tails, a weary languor in their eyes, and an abject waggle about their knees which told of hope deferred and spirit utterly gone. The pony was the better of the two. Its sprightly glance of amiability had changed into a gaze of humble resignation, whereas the •!'»' J'll iif'' 126 TWICE BOUGHT : aspect of the obstinate horse was one of impotent ill- nature. It would have bitten, perhaps, if strength had permitted, but as to its running away — ha ! Well, Tolly Trevor approached — it could hardly be said he rode up to — the spring before mentioned, where he passed the footprints in stupid blindness. He dismounted, however, to drink and rest a while. "Come on — you brute!" he cried, almost savagely, dragging the horse to the water. The creature lowered its head and gazed as though to say, " What liquid is that ?" As the pony, however, at once took a long and hearty draught, it also condescended to drink, while Tolly followed suit. Afterwards he left the animals to graze, and sat down under a neighbouring tree to rest and swallow his last morsel of food. It was sad to see the way in which the poor boy care- fully shook out and gathered up tlie few crumbs in his wallet, so that not one of them should be lost ; and how slowly he ate them, as if to prolong the sensation of being gratified ! During the two days which he had spent in the forest his face had grown perceptibly thinner, and his strength had certainly diminished. Even the reckless look of defiant joviality, which was one of the boy's chief characteristics, had given place to a restless anxiety that prevented his seeing hun\our in anything, and induced a feeling of impatience when a joke chanced irresistibly to bubble up in his mind. He was once again reduced almost to the weeping point, but his sensations were somewhat different, for, when he had stood gazing at the wreck of Bevan's home, the nether lip had trembled because of the sorrows of friends, whereas now he was sorrowing because of an exhausted nature, a weakened heart, and a sinking spirit. But the spirit had not yet utterly given way ! A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 127 " Come !" he cried, starting up. "This won't do, Tolly. Be a man ! Why, only think — you have got over two days and two nights. That was the time allowed you by Paul, BO your journey *s all but done — must be. Of course those brutes — forgive me, pony, that brute, 1 mean — has made me go much slower than if I had come on my own legs, but notwithstanding, it cannot be — hallo! what's that?" The exclamation had reference to a small dark object which lay a few yards from the spot on which he sat. He ran and picked it up. It was Tom Brixton's cap — with his name rudely written on the lining. Beside it lay a piece of bark on which was pencil-writing. With eager, anxious haste the boy began to peruse it, but he was unaccustomed to read handwriting, and when poor Tom had pencilled the lines his hand was weak and his brain confused, so that the characters were doubly difficult to decipher. After much and prolonged effort the boy made out the beginning. It ran thus : " This is probably the last letter that I, Tom Brixton, shall ever write. (I put down my name now, in case I never finish it.) dearest mother ! — " Emotion had no doubt rendered the hand less steady at this point, for here the words were quite illegible — at least to little Trevor — who finally gave up the attempt in despair. The effect of this discovery, however, was to send the young blood coursing wildly through the veins, so that a great measure of strength returned, as if by magic. The boy's first care ws s naturally to look for traces of the lost man, and he set about this with a dull fear at his heart, lest at any moment he should come upon the dead body of his friend. In a few minutes he discovered the track made by the Indians, which led him to the spot near to the spring where Tom had fallen. To his now (^ m 128 TWICE BOUGHT : 11 . I i ' 1 * - r*' *- ", •li i ;" * I* /h ' ^ if- )p ■ : th, fully-awakened senses Trevor easily read the story, as far as signs could tell it. B xton had been all but starved to death. He had lain down under a tree to die — the very tree under which he himself had so recently given way to despair. While lying there he — Brixton — had scrawled his last words on the bit of birch-bark. Then he had tried to reach the spring, but had fainted either before reaching it or after leaving. This he knew, because the mark of Tom's coat, part of his waist-belt, and the handle of his bowie-knife were all impressed on the softish ground with sufficient distinctness to be discerned by a sharp eye. The mocca- sined footprints told of Indians having found Brixton — still alive, for they would not have taken the trouble to carry him off if he had been dead. The various sizes of the moccasined feet told that the party of Indians numbered three ; and the trail of the red men, with its occasional halting- places, pointed out clearly the direction in which they had gone. Happily this was also the direction in which little Trevor was going. Of course the boy did not read this off as readily as we have written it all down. It cost him upwards of an hour's patient research; but when at last he did arrive at the result of his studies he wasted no time in idle speculation. His first duty was to reach Simpson's Gully, discover his friend Paul Bevan, and deliver to him the piece of birch- bark he had found, and the information he had gleaned. By the time Tolly had come to this conclusion his horse and pony had obtained both rest and nourisUFient enough to enable them to raise their drooping heads and tails an inch or two, so that, when the boy mounted the former with some of his old dash and energy, it shook its head, gave a short snort, and went off at a fair trot. Fortunately the ground improved just beyond this A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 129 as an the lion. his rch- id. orse lugh s an 'mer .ead, this point, opening out into park-like scenery, which, in another mile or two, ran into level prairie land. This Trevor knew from description was close to the mountain range in which lay the gully he was in quest of. The hope which had begun to rise increased, and communicat- ing itself, probably by sympathetic electricity, to the horse, produced a shuffling gallop, which ere long brought them to a clump of wood. On rounding this they came in sight of the longed-for hills. Before nightfall Simpson's Gully was reached, and little Trevor was directed to the tent of Paul Bevan, who had arrived there only the day before. " It 's a strange story, lad," said Paul, after the boy had run rapidly over the chief points of the news he had to give, to which Betty, Fred, and Flinders sat listening with eager interest. "We must be off to search for him without delay," said Fred Westly, rising. " It 's right ye are, sor," cried Flinders, springing up. " Off to-night, an' not a moment to lose." " We '11 talk it over first, boys," said Paul. " Come with me. I 've a friend in the camp as '11 help us." "Did you not bring the piece of bark?" asked Betty of the I '^y, as the men went out. " Oh ! I forgot. Of course I did," cried Trevor, drawing it from his ■ east-pocket. " The truth is I 'm so knocked up that I scarce know what I 'm about." " Lie down here on this deer-skin, poor boy, and rest while I read it." Tolly Trevor flung himself on the rude but welcome couch, and almost instantly fell asleep, while Betty Bevan, spreading the piece of birch-bark on her knee, began to spell out the words and try to make sense of Tom Brixton's last epistle. . I' 130 TWICE BOUGHT : V7 I' M CHAPTEE XL WITH considerable difficulty Betty Bevan succeeded in deciphering the tremulous scrawl which Tom Brixton had written on the piece of birch-bark. It ran somewhat as follows : — " This is probably the last letter that .'., Tom Brixton, shall ever write. (I put down my nan.e now, in case I never finish it.) dearest mother ! what would I not now give to unsay all the hard things I have ever said to you, and to undo all the evil I have done. But this cannot be. 'Twice bought !' It is strange how these words run in my mind. I was condemned to death at the gold-fields — my comrades bought me off. Fred — dear Fred — who has been true and faithful to the last, reminded me that I had previously been bought with the blood of Jesus — that I have been tmce bought ! I think he put it in this way to fix my obstinate spirit on the idea, and he has succeeded. The thought has been burned in upon my soul as with fire. I am very, very weak — dying, I fear, in the forest, and alone ! . . . How my mind seems to wander ! I have slept since writing the last sentence, and dreamed of food ! Curious mixing of ideas ! I also dreamed of Betty Bevan. Ah, sweet girl ! if this ever meets your eye, believe that I loved you sincerely. It is well that I should die, perhaps, for I have been a thief, and would not ask your hand now even if I A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 131 at tmg ii-l ! you ■lave if I might. I would not sully it with a touch of mine, and I could not expect you to believe in me after I tell you that I not only robbed Gashford, but also Fred — my chum Fred — and gambled it all away, and drank away my reason almost at the same time. ... I have slept again, and dreamed of water this time — bright, pure, crystal water — sparkling and gushing in the sunshine. God ! how I despised it once, and how I long for it now ! I am too weak and wandering, mother, to think about religion now. But why should I? Your teaching has not been altogether thrown away ; it comes back like a great flood while I lie here dreaming and trying to write. The thoughts are confused, but the sense comes home. All is easily summed up in the words you once taught me, ' I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all, but Jesus Christ is all in all.' Not sure that I quote rightly. No matter, the sense is there also. And yet it seems — it is — such a mean thing to sin away one's life and ask for pardon only at the end — the very end ! But the thief on the cross did it ; why not I ? Sleep — is it sleep ? may it not be slowly- approaching death ? — has overpowered me again. I have been attempting to read this. I seem to have mixed things somehow. It is sadly confused — or my mind is. A burning thirst consumes me — and — I think I hear water running ! I will — " Here the letter ended abruptly. "No doubt," murmured Betty, as she let the piece of bark fall on the table and clasped her hands over her eyes, " he rose and tried to reach the water. Praise God that there is hope !" She sat for a few seconds in profound silence, which was broken by Paul and his friends re-entering the tent. " It 's all arranged, Betty," he said, taking down an old rifle which hung above the door ; " old Larkius has agreed i rr-w I III f 1 ' » i j It* ! 'it if ' i l| |y 1 132 TWICE BOUGHT : to look arter my claim and take care of you, lass, while we 're away." " I shall need no one to take care of me." " Ah ! so you think, for you're as brave as you're good ; but — I think otherwise. So he *11 look arter you." " Indeed he won't, father !" returned Betty, smiling, " because I intend that you shall look after me." " Impossible, girl ! I 'm going to sarch for Tom Brixton, you see, along with Mister Fred an' Flinders, so I can't stop here with you." " But I am going too, father !" "But — but we can't wait for you, my good girl," returned Paul, with a perplexed look ; " we 're all ready to start, an' there ain't a boss for you except the poor critters that Tolly Trevor brought wi' him, an', you know, they need rest very badly." " Well, well, go off, father ; I won't delay you," said Betty ; " and don't disturb Tolly, let him sleep, he needs it, poor boy. I will take care of him and his horses." That Tolly required rest was very obvious, for he lay sprawling on the deer-skin couch just as he had flung him- self down, buried in the profoundest sleep he perhaps ever experienced since his career in the wilderness began. After the men had gone off, Betty Bevan — who was by that time better known, at least among those young diggers whose souls were poetical, as the Eose of Oregon, and among the matter-of-fact ones as the Beautiful Nugget — conducted herself in a manner that would have increased the admiration of her admirers, if they had seen her, and awakened their curiosity also. First of all she went out to the half-ruined log-hut that served her father for a stable, and watered, fed, and rubbed down the horse and pony -which Tolly had brought, in a manner that would have done credit to a regular groom. Then, returning to I I A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 133 by mg jon, get the tent, she arranged and packed a couple of saddle-bags with certain articles of clothing, as well as biscuits, dried meat, and other provisions. Next she cleaned and put in order a couple of revolvers, a bowie-knife, and a small hatchet ; and ultimately, having made sundry other mysterious preparations, she lifted the curtain which divided the tent into two parts, and entered her own private apartment. There, after reading her nightly portion of God's Word and committing herself, and those who were out searching in the wilderness for the lost man, to His care, she lay down with her clothes on, and almost instantly fell into a slumber as profound as that which had already overwhelmed Tolly. As for that exhausted little fellow, he did not move during the whole night, save once, when an adventurous insect of the ear- wig type walked across his ruddy cheek and upper lip and looked up his nose. There are sensitive portions of the human frame which may not be touched with impunity. The sleeper sneezed, blew the earwig out of existence, rolled over on his bacjf, flung his arms wide open, and, with his mouth in the same condition, spent the remainder of the night in motionless repose. The sun was well up next morning, and the miners of Simpson's Gully were all busy, up to their knees in mud and gold, when Betty Bevan awoke, sprang up, ran into the outer apartment of her tent, and gazed admiringly at Tolly's face. A band of audacious and early flies were tickling it and causing the features to twitch, but they could not waken the sleeper. Betty gazed only for a moment with an amused expression, and then shook the boy somewhat vigorously. « Come, Tolly, rise !" " Oh ! d-on'-t b-borrer." " But I must bother. Wake up, I say. Tire !" 134 TWICE BOUGHT : 'I to m I At the last word the boy sat up and gazed idiotically. " Hallo ! Betty — my dear Nugget — is that you ? Why, where am I ?" "Your body is here," said Betty, laughing. "When your mind comes to the same place I *11 talk to you." " I 'm all here now, Betty ; so go ahead," said the boy, with a hearty yawn as he arose and stretched himself. "Oh! I remember now all about it. Where is your father?" " I will tell you presently, but first let me know what you mean by calling me Nugget." " Why, don't you know ? It 's the name the men give you everywhere — one of the names at least — the Beauti- ful Nugget." " Indeed !" exclaimed the Nugget, with a laugh and blush ; " very impudent of the men ; and, pray, if this is one of the names, what may the others be ?" " There 's only one other that I know of— the Eose of Oregon. But come, it's not fair of you to screw my secrets out o' me when I 'm only half awake ; and you haven't yet told me where Paul Bevan is." " I '11 tell you that when I see you busy with this pork pie," returned the Eose. " I made it myself, so you ought to find it good. Be quick, for I have work for you to do, and there is no time to lose. Content yourself with a cold breakfast for once." " Humph ! as if I hadn't contented myself with a cold breakfast at any time. Well, it w a good pie. Now — about Paul ?" " He has gone away with Mr. Westly and Flinders to search for Mr. Brixton." "What! without me?" exclaimed Tolly, overturning his chair as he started up and pushed his plate from him. I A TALE OF THE OllEGON GOLDFIELDS. Uf) " Yes, without you, Tolly ; I advised him not to awake you." "It's the unkindest thing you've ever done to me," returned the boy, scarcely able to restrain his tears at the disappointment. ** How can they know where to search for him without me to guide them ? Why didn't you let them waken me ?" \ " You forget. Tolly, that my father knows every inch of these woods and plains for at least fifty miles round the old house they have blown up ; and, as to waking you, it would have been next to impossible to have done so, you were so tired, and you would have been quite unable to keep your eyes open. Besides, I had a little plan of my own which I want you to help me to carry out. Go on with your breakfast and I '11 explain." The boy sat down to his meal again without speaking, but with a look of much curiosity on his expressive face. " You know, without my telling you," continued Betty, " that I, like my father, have a considerable knowledge of this part of the country, and of the ways of Indians and miners, and from what you have told me, coupled with what father has said, I think it likely that the Indians have carried poor T — Mr. Brixton, I mean — through the Long Gap rather than by the plains — " " So / would have said, had they consulted me" inter- rupted the boy, with an offended air. " Well, but," continued Betty, " they would neither have consulted you nor me, for father has a very decided will, you know, and a belief in his own judgment — which is quite right, of course, only I cannot help differing from him on this occasion — " " No more can I," growled Tolly, thrusting his fork into the pie at a tempting piece of pork. *' So, you see, I 'm going* to take the big horse you I' .L.J fs>^ 136 TWICE BOUGHT : I-' i: 11 : 1 1 m k': f M (i i ■ 'ii • ,; ■■ I'll !;. 'if .'■ 'I i 1 i brought here and ride round by the Long Gap to see if I *m right, and I want you to go with me on the pony and take care of me." Tolly Trevor felt his heart swell with gratification at the idea of his being the chosen protector of the Kose of Oregon — the Bpautiful Nugget; selected by herself, too. Nevertheless his good sense partially subdued his vanity on the point. " But, I say," he remarked, looking up with a half- serious expression, "d'you think that you and I are a sufficient party to make a good fight if we are attacked by Redskins ? You know your father will hold me respon- sible, for carrying you off into the midst of danger in this fashion." " I don't mean to fight at all," returned Betty, with a pleasant laugh, " and I will free you from all responsibility; 80, have done, now, and come along." "It's so good," said Tolly, looking as though he were loath to quit the pork pie ; " but, come, I 'm your man ! Only don't you think it would be as well to get up a good fighting party among the young miners to go with us? They'd only be too happy to take service under the Beautiful Nugget, you know." "Tolly," exclaimed the Nugget, with more than her wonted firmness, "if you are to take service under me you must learn to obey without question. Now, go and saddle the horses. The big one for me, the pony for yourself. Put the saddle-bags on the horse, and be quick." There was a tone and manner about the usually quiet and gentle girl which surprised and quite overawed little Trevor, so that he was reduced at once to an obedient and willing slave. Indeed he was rather glad than other- wise that Betty had declined to listen to his suggestion A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 137 about the army of young diggers — which an lionest doubt as to his own capacity to fight and conquer all who might chance to come in his way had induced him to make — while he was by no means unwilling to undertake, single- handed, any duties his fair conductor should require of him. In a few minutes, therefore, the steeds were brought round to the door of the tent, where Betty already stood equipped for the journey. Our fair readers will not, we trust, be prejudiced against the Eose of Oregon when we inform them that she had adopted man's attitude in riding. Her costume was arranged very much after the pattern of the Indian women's dress — namely, a close-fitting body, a short woollen skirt reaching a little below the knees, and blue cloth leggings in continuation. These latter were elegantly wrought with coloured silk thread, and the pair of moccasins which covered her small feet were similarly ornamented. A little cloth cap, in shape resembling that of a cavalry foraging cap, but without ornaments, graced her head, from beneath which her wavy hair tumbled in luxuriant curls on her shoulders, and, as Tolly was wont to remark, looked after itself anyhow. Such a costume was well adapted to the masculine position on horseback, as well as to the conditions of a land in which no roads, but much underwood, existed. Bevan's tent having been pitched near the outskirts of Simpson's Camp, the maiden and her gallant protector had no difficulty in quitting it unobserved. Eiding slowly at first, to avoid attracting attention as well as to pick their steps more easily over the somewhat rugged ground near the camp, they soon reached the edge of an extensive plain, at the extremity of which a thin purple line in- dicated a range of hills. Here Tolly Trevor, unable to .:l •r*' ii.:i ':>i ilf! 'i^ I ? ir 1 1 I iJ i 1 iff*:' 138 TWICE BOUGHT : restrain his joy at the prospect of adventure before him, uttered a war-whoop, brought his switch down smartly on the pony's flank, and shot away over the plain like a wild creature. The air was bracing, the prospect was fair, the sunshine waa bright. No wonder that the obedient pony, forgetting for the moment the fatigues of the past, and strong in the enjoyment of the previous night's rest and supper, went over the ground at a pace that harmonised with its young rider's excitement; and no wonder that the obstinate horse was inclined to emulate the pony, and stretched its long legs into a wild gallop, encouraged thereto by the Rose on its back. The gallop was ere long pressed to racing speed, and there is no saying when the young pair would have pulled up had they not met with a sudden check by the pony putting his foot into a badger-hole. The result was frightful to witness, though trifling in result. The pony went heels over head upon the plain like a rolling wheel, and its rider shot into the air like a stone from a catapult. "Oescribing a magnificent curve, and coming down head foremost. Tolly would then and there have ended his career if he had not fortunately dropped into a thick bush, which broke his fall instead of his neck, and saved him. Indeed, excepting several ugly scratches, he was none the worse for the misadventure. Poor horrified Betty attempted to pull up, but the obstinate horse had got the bit in his teeth and declined, so that when Tolly had scrambled out of the bush she was barely visible in the far distance, heading towards the blue hills. "Hallo!" was her protector's anxious remark as he gazed at the flying fair one. Then, without another word, he leaped on the pony and went after her at full speed, quite regardless of recent experience. I I A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 139 The blue hills had become green hills, and the Long Gap was almost reached, before the obstinate horse sunbred itself to be reined in — probably because it was getting tired. Soon afterwards the pony came panting up. "You're not hurt, I hope?" said Betty, anxiously, as Tolly came alongside. " Oh no. All right," replied the boy ; " but, I say what a run you have given me 1 Why didn't you wait forme?" " Ask that of the horse, Tolly." " What ! Did he bolt with you ?" "Truly he did. I never before rode such a stubborn brute. My efforts to check it were useless, as it had the bit in its teeth, and I did my best, for I was terribly anxious about you, and cannot imagine how you escaped a broken neck after such a flight." " It was the bush that saved me, Betty. But, I say, we seem to be nearing a wildish sort of place." " Yes ; this is the Lon;,' Gap," returned the girl, flinging back her curls and lookii. round. " It cuts right through the range here, and bec^ ries much wilder and more difficult to traverse on horseback farther on." "And what d'ye mean to do, Betty?" inquired the boy as they rode at a foot-pace towards the opening, which seemed like a dark portal to the hills. " Suppose you discover that the Eedskins have carried Tom Brixton off in this direction, what then? You and I won't be able to rescue him, you know." " True, Tolly. If I find that they have taken him this way I will ride straight to father's encampment — he told me before starting where he intends to sleep to-night, so I shall easily find him — tell him what we have discovered and lead him back here." d\ 1 1" ■^ uo TWICE BOUGHT : W " And suppose you don't find that the Redskins have come this way," rejoined Tolly, after a doubtful shake of his head, " what then ?" " Why, then, I shall return to our tent and leave father and Mr. Westly to hunt them down." "And suppose," continued Tolly — but Tolly never finished the supposition, for at that moment two painted Indians sprang from the bushes on either side of the narrow track, and, ainiust before the riders could realise what had happened, the boy found himself on his back with a savage hand at his throat, and the girl found herself on the ground with the hand of a grinning savage on her shoulder. Tolly Trevor struggled manfully, but, alas ! also boy- ishly, for though his spirit was strong his bodily strength was small — at least, as compared with that of the savage who held him. Yes, Tolly struggled like a hero. He beheld the Hose of Oregon taken captive, and his blood boiled ! He bit, he kicked, he scratched, and he hissed with indignation — but it would not do. " Oh, if you 'd only let me up and give me one chance ! " he gasped. But the red man did not consent — indeed, he did not understand. Nevertheless, it was obvious that the savage was not vindictive, for although Tolly's teeth and fists and toes and nails had wrouglit him some damage, he neither stabbed nor scalped the boy. He only choked him into a state of semi-unconsciousness, and then, turn- ing him on his face, tied his hands behind his back with a deerskin thong. Meanwhile the other savage busied himself in examin- ing the saddle-bags of the obstinate horse. He did not appear to think it worth while to tie the hands of Betty ! Durin": the short scuftle between his comrade and the boy i 1 A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 141 he had held her fast, because she manifested an intention to run to the rescue. When that was ended he relieved her of the weapons she carried and let her go, satisfied, no doubt, that if she attempted to run away he could easily overtake her, and if she were to attempt anything else he could restrain her. When, however, Betty saw that Tolly's antagonist meant no harm, she wisely attempted nothing, but sat down on a fallen tree to await the issue. The savages did not keep her long in suspense. Tolly's foe, h;iving bound him, lifted him on the back of the pony, and then, taking the bridle, quietly led it away. At the same time the otlier savage assisted Betty to remount the horse, and, grasping the bridle of that obstinate creature, followed his comrade. The whole thing was so sudden, so violent, and the result so decisive, that the boy looked back at Betty and burst into a half-hy^iterical fit of laughter, but the girl did not respond. " It's a serious business. Tolly !" she said, " So it is, Betty," he replied. Then, pursing his little mouth, and gathering his eye- brows into a frown, he gave himself up to meditation, while the Indians conducted them into the dark recesses of the Long Gap. ...I .1 • I < ( •I ( , •* 142 TWICE BOUGHT : CHAPTER XII. 1 1 41 1 nil I h • 1 ;. i > H .t- ' t|:jr M IHI L nVJ'OW, the Indians into whose hands the Eose of -Jwi Oregon and our little hero had fallen happened to be part of the tribe to which the three who had dis- covered Tom Brixton belonged, and although his friends little knew it, Tom himself was not more than a mile or so distant from them at the time, having been carried in the same direction, towards the main camp or head- quarters of the tribe in the Sawback Hills. They had not met on the journey, because the two bands of the tribe were acting independently of each other. We will leave them at this point, and ask the reader to return to another part of the plain over which Tolly and Betty had galloped so furiously. It is a small hollow, at the bottom of which a piece of marshy ground has encouraged the growth of a few willows. Paul Be van had selected it as a suitable camp- ing-ground for the night, and while Paddy Flinders busied himself with the kettle and frying-pan, he and Fred Westly went among the bushes to procure firewood. Fred soon returned with small twigs sufficient to kindle the fire ; his companion went on further in search of larger boughs and logs. While Fred was busily engaged on hands and knees, blowing the fire into a flame, a sharp " hallo ! " from his companion caused him to look up. A TALE OP THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. H3 "What is it?" he asked. " Goliath of Gath — or his brother !" said Paddy, point- ing to a little eminence behind which the sun had but recently set. The horseman, who had come to a halt on the eminence and was quietly regarding them, did indeed look as if he might have claimed kinship with the giant of the Philis- tines, for he and his steed looked stupendous. No doubt the peculiarity of their position, with the bright sky as a glowing background, had something to do with the gigan- tic appearance of horse and man, for, as they slowly descended the slope towards the fire, both of them assumed a more natural size. The rider was a strange-looking as well as a large man, for he wore a loose shooting-coat, a tall wideawake with a broad brim, blue spectacles with side-pieces to them, and a pair of trousers which appeared to have been made for a smaller man, as, besides being too tight, they were much too short. Over his shoulder was slung a green tin botanical box. He carried no visible weapons save a small hatchet and a bowie-knife, though his capacious pockets might easily have concealed half a dozen revolvers. " Goot night, my frunds," said the stranger, in broken English, as he approached. " The same to yersilf, sor," returned Flinders. Any one who had been closely watching the counten- ance of the stranger might have observed a sudden gleam of surprise on it when the Irishman spoke, but it passed instantly, and was replaced by a pleasant air of good fellowship as he dismounted and led his horse nearer the fire. " Good night, and welcome to our camp. You are a foreigner, I perceive," said Fred Westly in French, but the stranger shook his head. 41 W if . 1, 'i! Ml i1 9' r i-^SSS 144 TWICE BOUGHT : ^1 ^f!;i In ( " I not un'erstan'." " Ah ! a German, probably," returned Fred, trying him with the language of the Fatherland; but again the stranger shook his head. " You mus' spok Eenglish. I is a Swedish man ; knows noting but a leetil Eenglish." " I 'm sorry that I cannot speak Swedish," replied Fred, in English ; " so we must converse in my native tongue. You are welcome to share our camp. Have you travelled far?" Fred cast a keen glance of suspicion at the stranger as he spoke, and, in spite of himself, there was a decided diminution in the heartiness of his tones, but the strange v did not appear to observe either the change of tone or the glance, for he replied, with increased urbanity and openness of manner, " Yis ; I has roden far — very far — an' moche wants meat an' sleep." As he spoke Paul Bevan came staggering into camp under a heavy load of wood, and again it may be said that a close observer might have noticed on the stranger's face a gleam of surprise much more intense than the previous one when he saw Paul Bevan. But the gleam had utterly vanished when that worthy, having thrown down his load, looked up and bade him good evening. The urbanity of manner and blandness of expression increased as he returned the salutation. " T'anks, t'anks. I vill go for hubble — vat you call — hobble me horse," he said, taking the animal's bridle and leading it a short distance from the fire. " I don't like the look of him," whispered Fred to Paul when he was out of earshot. " Sure, an' I howld the same opinion," said Flinders. *' Pooh ! Never judge men by their looks," returned Bevan — "specially in the diggin's. They're all black- A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 145 '3. rned ack- guards or fools, more or less. This one seems to be one o' the fools. I 've seed sitch critters before. They keep fiilin* their little boxes wi' grass an' stuff, an* never makes any use of it that I could see. But every man to his taste. I *11 be bound he *s a good enough feller when ye come to know him an' git over yer contempt for his idle ways. Very likely he draws, too — an' plays the flute; most o' these furriners do. Come now, Flinders, look alive wi' the grub." When the stranger returned to the fire he spread his huge hands over it and rubbed them with apparent satis- faction. "Fat a goot t'ing is supper!" he remarked, with a benignant look all round ; " the very smell of him be deliciowse !" "An' no mistake!" added Flinders. "Sure, the half o' the good o' victuals would be lost av they had no smell." " Where have you come from, stranger?" asked Bevan, as they were about to begin supper. "From de Sawbuk Hills," answered the botanist, filling his mouth with an enormous mass of dried meat. "Ay, indeed! That's just where we are goin' to," returned Bevan. " An* vere may you be come from ?" asked the stranger. " From Simpson's Gully," said Fred. " Ha ! how cooriouse ! Dat be joost vere I be go to.'* The conversation flagged a little at this point as they warmed to the work of feeding ; but after a little it was resumed, and then their visitor gradually ingratiated himself with his new friends to such an extent that the suspicions of Fi-ed and Flinders were somewhat, though not altogether, allayed. At last they became sufficiently confidential to inform the stranger of their object in going to the Sawback Hills. K MH ( , ■ii\ ,1 146 TWICE BOUGHT : 1 . i M ll ( i i>^}' !'!!!' ■' i • 1 1 ! I M "Ha! vat is dat you say?" he exclaimed, with well- feigned surprise ; " von yoong man carried avay by Eidskins. I saw'd dem ! Did pass dem not longe ago. T'ree mans carry von man. I t'ink him a sick comrade, but now I reklect hims face vas vhitish." " Could ye guide us to the place where ye met them ?" asked Bevan, quickly. The botanist did not reply at once, but seemed to consider. " Veil, I has not moche time to spare ; but, come, I has pity for you, an' don't mind if I goes out of de vay to help you. I vill go back to the Sawbuk Hills so far as need be." " Thank 'ee kindly," returned Bevan, who possessed a grateful spirit ; " I '11 think better of yer grass-gatherin* after this, though it does puzzle me awful to make out what 's the use ye put it to. If you kep' tame rabbits, now, I could understand it, but to carry it about in a green box an' go squeezin* it between the leaves o' books, as I 've seed some of 'ee do, seems to me the most out- rageous- " Ha, ha !" interrupted the botanist, with a loud laugh ; " you is not the first what t'ink hims nonsense. But you mus' know dere be moche sense in it " — (he looked very grave and wise here) — " very moche. First, ve finds him ; den ve squeezes an' dries him ; den ve sticks him in von book, an* names him ; den ve talks about him ; oh ! dere is moche use in him, very moche ! " " Well, but arter you 've found, an' squeezed, an' dried, an' stuck, an' named, an' talked about him," repeated Paul, with a slight look of contempt, " what the better are ye for it all?" "Vy, ve is moche de better," returned the botanist, *' for den ve tries to find out all about him. Ve magnifies A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 147 ried, jated r are him, an* writes vat ve zee about him, an* compares him vid oders of de same family, an' boils, an* stews, an' fries, an' melts, an* dissolves, an' mixes him, till ve gits somet'ing out of him." " It 's little I *d expect to git out of him after tratin* him so badly,** remarked Flinders, whose hunger was gradually giving way before the influence of venison steaks. "True, me frund,'* returned the stranger, "it is ver' leetil ve gits ; but den dat leetil is ver' goot — valooable you calls it." "Humph!" ejaculated Bevan, with an air that be- tokened doubt. Flinders and Fred said nothing, but the latter felt more than ever inclined to believe that their guest was a deceiver, and resolved to watch him narrowly. On his part, the stranger seemed to perceive that Fred suspected him, but he was not rendered less hearty or free-and-easy on that account. In the course of conversation Paul chanced to refer to Betty. " Ah ! me frund," said the stranger, " has you brought you *s vife to dis vile contry ?** " No, I haven't,'* replied Paul, bluntly. . " Oh, pardon. I did t'ink you spoke of Bettie ; an* surely dat is vooman*s name ?** " Ay, but Betty's my darter, not my wife," returned Paul, who resented this inquisition with regard to his private affairs. " Is you not 'fraid," said the botanist, quietly helping himself to a marrow-bone, "to leave you's darter at Simpson's Gully?" "Who told you I left her there?" asked Bevan, with increasing asperity. " Oh ! I only t'ink so, as you's come from dere." I ■ II ( m 148 TWICE BOUGHT : EtJ m 9i .' I M J i " All' why should I be afraid ?" " Because, me frund, de contiy be full ob scoundrils." "Yes, an' you are one of the biggest of them," thought Fred Westly, but he kept his thoughts to himself, while Paul muttered something about being well protected and having no occasion to be afraid. Perceiving the subject to be distasteful, the stranger quickly changed it. Soon afterwards each man, rolling himself in his blanket, went to sleep — or appeared to do so. In regard to Paddy Flinders, at least, there could be no doubt, for the trombone-tones of his nose were eloquent. Paul, too, lay on his back with eyes tight shut and mouth wide open, while ^he regular heaving of his broad chest told that his slumbers were deep. But more til an once Fred Westly raised his head gently and looked suspiciously round. At last, in his case also, tired Nature asserted herself, and his deep regular breathing proved that the "sweet restorer" was at work, though an occasional movement showed that his sleep was not so profound as that of his comrades. The big botanist remained perfectly motionless from the time he lay down, as if the sleep of infancy had passed with him into the period of manhood. It was not till the fire had died completely down, and the moon had set, leaving only the stars to make darkness visible, that he moved. He did so, not as a sleeper awaking, but with, the slow stealthy action of one who is already wide awake and has a purpose in view. Gradually his huge shoulders rose till he rested on his left elbow. A sense of danger, which had never left him even while he slept, aroused Fred, but he did not lose his self- possession. He carefully watched, from the other side of the extinct fire, the motions of the stranger, and lay A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 149 his perfectly still — only tightening his grasp on the knife- handle that he had been instinctively holding when he dropped asleep. The night was too dark for Fred to distinguish the man's features. He could only perceive the outline of his black figure, and that for some time he rested on his elbow without moving, as if he were contemplating the stars. Despite his efforts to keep awake, Fred felt that drowsiness was again slowly but surely overcoming him. Maintaining the struggle, however, he kept his dreamy eyes riveted on their guest until he seemed to swell into gigantic proportions. Presently Fred was again thoroughly aroused by observing that the right arm of the man moved slowly upwards, and something like a knife appeared in the hand ; he even fancied he saw it gleam, though there was not light enough to render that possible. Feeling restrained, as if under the horrible influence of nightmare, Fred Ipy there spell-bound and quite unable to move, until he perceived the stranger's form bend over in the direction of Paul Bevan, who lay on the other side of him. Then, indeed, Fred's powers returned. Shouting, " Look out, Paul ! " he sprang up, drew his bowie-knife, and leaped over the blackened logs, but, to his surprise and confusion, found that the stranger lay extended on the ground as if sound asleep. He roused himself, how- ever, and sat up, as did the others, on hearing Fred's shout. "Fat is wrong, yoong man?" he inquired, with a look of sleepy surprise. " Ye may well ax that, sor," said Flinders, staggering to his feet and seizing his axe, which always lay handy at his side. Paul had glanced round sharply, like a man ■ : ii • ii i-: \>] 1 J !( f 150 TWICE BOUGHT : i If i ;ii 1 1 inured to danger, but seeing nothing to alarm him, had remained in a sitting position. " Why, Westly, you 've been dreaming," he said with a broad grin. " So I must have been," returned the youth, looking very much ashamed, " but you 've no notion what a horrible dream I had. It seemed so real, too, that I could not help jumping up and shouting. Pardon me, comrades, and, as bad boys say when caught in mischief, ' I won't do it again !* " "Ve pardon you, by all means," said the botanist, stretching himself and yawning, " and ve do so vid de more pleasure for you has rouse us in time for start on de joorney." " You 're about right. It 's time we was off," said Paul, rising slowly to his feet and looking round the horizon and up at the sky, while he proceeded to fill a beloved little black pipe, which invariably constituted his pre- liminary little breakfast. Pat Flinders busied himself in blowing up the embers of the fire. A slight and rapidly eaten meal sufficed to prepare these hardy backwoodsmen for their journey, and, long before daybreak illumined the plains, they were far on their way towards the Sawback mountain range. During the journey of two days which this trip in- volved the botanist seemed to change his character to some extent. He became silent — almost morose ; did not encourage the various efforts made by his companions to draw him into conversation, and frequently rode alone in advance of the party, or occasionally fell behind them. The day after the stranger had joined them, as they were trotting slowly over the plains that lay between the Rangers Hill and the Sawbacks, Fred rode close up J A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 151 to Bevan, and said in a low voice, glancing at the botanist, who was in advance — " I am convinced, Paul, that he is a scoundrel." "That may be so, Mr. Fred, but what then ?" "Why, then I conclude that he is deceiving us for some purpose of his own." " Nonsense," replied Bevan, who was apt to express himself bluntly, " what purpose can he serve in deceiving strangers like us ? We carry no gold-dust, and have nothing worth robbing us of, even if he were fool enough to think of attemptin' such a thing. Then, he can scarcely be deceivin' us in sayin' that he met three Red- skins carryin' off a white man — an* what good could it do him if he is ? Besides, he is goin* out of his way to sarve us." "It is impossible for me to answer your questions, Paul, but I understand enough of both French and German to know that his broken English is a mere sham — a mixture, and a bad one too, of what no German or Frenchman would use — so it 's not likely to be the sort of bad English that a Swede would speak. Moreover, I have caught him once or twice using English words correctly at one time and wrongly at another. No, you may depend on it that, whatever his object may be, he is deceiving us." " It 's mesilf as agrees wid ye, sor," said Flinders, who had been listening attentively to the conversation. " The man 's no more a Swede than an Irishman, but what can we do wid oursilves ? True or false, he 's ladin' us in the diriotion we want to go, an' it would do no good to say to him, * Ye spalpeen, yer decavin' of us,' for he 'd only say he wasn't ; or may be he 'd cut up rough an' lave us — but, after all, it might be the best way to push him up to that." " I think not," said Bevan. " Doesn't English law say i i •« 152 TWICE BOUGHT : Ml I that a man should be held innocent till he's proved guilty?" " It 's little I know or care about English law," answered Flinders, " but I *m sure enough that Irish law howlds a bad man to be guilty till he 'a proved innocent — at laste av it dosn't it should." " You 'd better go an' pimip him a bit, Mr, Fred," said Bevan ; " we 're close up to the Sawback range ; another hour an' we '11 be among the mountains. They were turning round the spur of a little hillock as he spoke. Before Fred could reply a small deer sprang from its lair, cast on the intruders one startled gaze, and then bounded gracefully into the bush, too late, however, to escape from Bevan's deadly rifle. It had barely gone ten yards when a sharp crack was heard ; the animal sprang high into the air, and fell dead upon the ground. " Bad luck to ye, Bevan !" exclaimed Flinders, who had also taken aim at it, but not with sufficient speed, " isn't that always the way ye do?— plucks the baste out o' m*^ very hand. Sure I had me sights lined on it as straight as could be ; wan second more an' I 'd have sent a bullet right into its brain, when cracJc ! ye go before me. Och ! it *s onkind, to say the laste of it. Why cudn't ye gi* me a chance ? " "I *m sorry, Flinders, but I couldn't well help it. The critter rose right in front o' me." "Vat a goot shote you is!" exclaimed the botanist, riding back to them and surveying the prostrate deer through his blue spectacles. " Ay, and it 's a lucky shot too," said Fred, ' provisions are running low. But perchance want much more food before reaching the I' camp You said, I think, that you have a good guess where tie camp Kes, Mister — what shall we call you ?" A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 153 " Call me vat you please," returned the stranger, with a peculiar smile; "I is not partickler. Some of me frunds calls me Mr. Botaniste." " Well Mr. Botanist, the camp cannot be far off now, an' it seems to me that we should have overtaken men travelling on foot by this time." " Ve vill surely come on de tracks dis naight or de morrow," replied the botanist, riding forward, after Bevan htvd secured the carcass of the deer to his saddlebow, " bot ve must have patience, yoong blood be alvays too bote. All in goot time." With this reply Fred was fain to content himself, for no amount of pressure availed to draw anything more satis- factory out of their strange guide. Before sunset they had penetrated some distance into the Sawback range, and then proceeded to make their encampment for the night under the spreading branches of a lordly pine. Ui I!.-' Ml M-^ . '! il ff 154 TWICE BOUGHT : CHAPTER XIII. 'i y Bf; TABLES are frequently turned iu this world in more senses than one. As was said in the last chapter, the romantic pair who were in search of the Indians did not find those for whom they sought, but, as fickle fortune willed it, those for whom they sought found them. It happened thus. Soon after the Rose of Oregon and her young champion, with their captors, had passed through the Long Gap, crossed the plain, and entered the Sawback Hills, they fell in with a band of tvventy Indians, who from their appearance and costume evidently belonged to the same tribe as their captors. From the manner in which they met, also, it seemed that they had been in search of each other, and had something interesting to communicate, for they gesticulated much, pointed frequently to the sky, and to various directions of the compass, chattered excitedly, showed their brilliant teeth in fitful gleams, and glittered quite awfully about the eyes. They paid little attention at first tc their prisoners, who remained sitting on their steeds looking on with interest and some anxiety. " Betty, what would I not give to have my arms free just now ! What a chance it would be for a bold dash and a glorious run '" " You 'd make little ot it on such rough ground, Toll A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 155 » " Pooh ! I 'd try it on any ground. Just fancy, I 'd begin with a clear leap over that chiefs head — the one there wi' the feathers an' the long nose that *s makin* such hideous faces — then away up the glen, over the stones, down the hollows, shoutin' like mad, an' clearin* the brooks and precipices with a band o' yellin' Eedskins at my tail ! Isn't it enough to drive a fellow wild to be on the brink of such a chance an' miss it ? I say, haven't you got a penknife in your pocket — no ? Not even a pair o* scissors? Why, I thought you women never travelled without scissors." "Alas! Tolly, I have not even scissors; besides, if I had, it would take me at least two minutes with all the strength of my fingers to cut the thongs that bind you with scissors, and I don't think the Eedskins would, stand quietly by and look on while I did it. But what say you to me trying it by myself?" "Quite useless," returned Tolly. "You'd be caught at once — or break your neck. And you 'd never get on, you know, without me. No, no, we 've got fairly into a fix, an' I don't see my way out of it. If my hands were f^ee we might attempt anything, but what can a fellow do when tied up in this fashion ?" " He can submit, Tolly, and wait patiently." Tolly did not feel inclined to submit, and was not possessed of much patience, but he was too fond of Betty to answer flippantly. He therefore let his feelings escape through the safety-valve of a great sigh, and relapsed into pensive silence. Meanwhile the attention of the band of savages was attracted to another small band of natives which approached them from the eastward. That these were also friends was evident from the fact that the larger band piade no hostile demonstration, but quietly awaited I fi! 156 TWICE BOUGHT : I the coming up of the others. The new-comers were three in number, and two of them bore on their shoulders what appeared to be the body of a man wrapped up in a blanket. " They 've got a wounded comrade with them, I think," said little Trevor. " So it would seem," replied Betty, with a dash of pity in her tone, for s'he was powerfully sympathetic. The savages laid the form in the blanket on the ground, and began to talk earnestly with their comrades. " It 's not dead yet, anyhow," remarked Tolly, " for I Foe it move. I wonder whether it is a man or a woman. Mayhap it's their old grandmother they're giving a little exercise to. I *ve heard that some o' the Eedskins £Lve affectionate sort o' fellows, though most of *em are hard enough on the old folk." As he spoke he looked up in Betty's face. Just as he did so a startling change came over that face. It suddenly became ashy pale, the large eyes dilated to their utmost extent, and the mouth opened with a short gasp. In great alarm the boy turned his eyes in the direction in which the girl gazed so fixedly, and then his own visage assumed a somewhat similar appearance as he beheld the pale, thin, cadaverous countenance of his friend Tom Brixton, from off which a corner of the blanket had just slipped. But for the slight motion above referred to Tom might have been mistaken for a dead man, for his eyes were closed and his lips bloodless. Uttering a sudden shout, Tolly Trevor flung himself headlong off the pony and tried to get on his feet, but failed, owing to his hands being tied behind him. Betty also leaped to the ground, and, running to where Tom lav, went down on hf ^'Tiees and raised his head in her hands. A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 157 . »> Tlie poor youth, being roused, opened his eyes. They were terribly sunken and large, but when they met those of Betty they enlarged to an extent that seemed positively awful, and a faint tinge of colour came to his hollow cheeks. " Betty !" he whispered ; " can — can it be possible ?" " Yes, it is I ! Surely God must have sent me to save your life !" " I fear not, dear — *' He stopped abruptly and shut his eyes. For a few moments it seemed as if he were dead, but presently he opened them again, and said, faintly, " It is too late, I fear. You are very kind, but I — I feel so terribly weak that I think I am dying." By this time Tolly, having managed to get on his feet, stood beside his friend, on whom he gazed with intense anxiety. Even the Indians were solemnised by what appeared to be a death-scene. " Have you been wounded ?" asked the girl, quickly. " No ; only starved !" returned Tom, a slight smile of humour flickering for a second on his pale face even in that hour of his extremity. " Have the Indians given you anything to eat since they found you ?" "They have tried to, but what they offered me was dry and tough ; I could not get it down." The girl rose promptly. " Tolly, fetch me some water and make a fire. Quick !" she said, and going up to an Indian, coolly drew from its sheath his scalping-kuife, with which she cut Tolly's bonds. The savage evidently believed that such a creature could not possibly do evil, for he made no motion whatever to check her. Then, without a word more, she w jnt to the saddle-bags on the obstinate horse, and, opening one of them, took out some 1 m iii^i 158 TWICE BOUGHT : ( * M^ »* I 1 soft sugar. The savage who held the horse made no objection. Indeed, from that moment the whole band Itood silently by observing the pretty maiden and the active boy as they moved about, regardless of everything but the work in hand. The Eose of Oregon constituted herself a sick-nurse on that occasion with marvellous facility. True, she knew nothing whatever about the duties of a sick-nurse or a doctor, for her father was one of those fortunate men who are never ill, but her native tact and energy sufficed. It was not her nature to stand by inactive when anything urgent had to be done. If she knew not what to do, and no one else did, she was sure to attempt something. Whether sugar- and- water was the best food for a starving man she knew not, but she did know — at least she thought — that the starvation ought to be checked without delay. " Here, Mr. Brixton, sip a little of this," she said, going down on her knees, and putting a tin mug to the patient's mouth. Poor Tom would have sipped prussic acid cheerfully from her hand ! He obeyed, and seemed to like it. *' Now, a little more." "God bless you, dear girl!" murmured Tom, as he sipped a little more. " There, that will do you good till I can prepare some- thing better." She rose and ran to the fire which Tolly had already blown up almost to furnace heat. " I filled the kettle, for I knew you 'd want it," said the boy, turning up his J ry-red visage for a moment, " It can't be long o' boiling with such a blaze below it." He stooped again and continued to blow while Betty cut some dried meat into small pieces. Soon these were I A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 159 by the never before boiled, and the resulting soup vas devoured starving man with a zest that he had experienced. " Nectar !" he exclaimed faintly, smiling as he raised his eyes to Betty's face. " But you must not take too much at a time," she said, gently drawing away the mug. Tom submitted patiently. He would have submitted to anything patiently just then ! During these proceedings the Indians, who seemed to be amiably disposed, looked on with solemn interest, and then, coming apparently to the conclusion that they might as well accommodate themselves to circumstances, they quietly made use of Tolly's fire to cook a meal for themselves. This done, one of them — a noble-looking savage, who, to judge from his bearing and behaviour, was evidently their chief — went up to Betty, and, with a stately bend of the head, said, in broken English, " White woman git on horse !" "And what are you going to do with this man ?" asked i3etty, pointing to the prostrate form of Tom. " Unaco will him take care," briefly replied the chief (meaning himself), while with a wave of his hand he turned away and went to Tolly, whom he ordered to mount the pony, which he styled the " littil horse." The boy was not slow to obey, for he was by that time quite convinced that his only chance of being allowed to have his hands left free lay in prompt sub- mission. Any lurking thought that might have remained of making a grand dash for liberty was effectually quelled by a big savage, who quietly took hold of the pony's rein and led it away. Another Indian led Betty's horse. Then the original three who had found Tom took him up 11 1.1- • : Wif 160 TWICE BOUGHT : . I i> quite gently and camecl him off, while the remainder of the band followed in single file. Unaco led the way, striding over the ground at a rate which almost forced the pony to trot, and glancing from side to side with a keen look of inquiry that seemed to intimate an expecta- tion of attack from an enemy in ambush. But if any such enemy existed he was careful not to show himself, and the Indian band passed through the defiles and fastnesses of the Sawback Hills unmolested until the shades of evening began to descend. Then, on turning round a jutting rock that obstructed the view up a mountain gorge, Unaco stopped abruptly and held up his hand. This brought the band to a sudden halt, and the chief, apparently sinking on his knees, seemed to melt into the bushes. In a few minutes he returned with a look of stern resolve on his well-formed countenance. " He has discovered something o* some sort, I — " Tolly's remark to his fair companion was cut short by the point of a keen knife touching his side, which caused him to end with " hallo !" The savage who held his bridle gave him a significant look that said, " Silence !" After holding a brief whispered conversation with several of his braves, the chief advanced to Betty and said — " White man 's in the bush. Does white woman know why?" Betty at once thought of her father and his companions, and said — "I have not seen the white men. How can I tell why they are here ? Let me ride forward and look at them — then I shall be able to speak." A very slight smile of contempt curled the chiefs lip for an instant as he replied — A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 161 "No. The white woman see them when they be trapped. Unaco knows one. He is black — a devil with two face — many face, but Ui.aco's eyes be sharp. They see far." So saying, he turned and gave some directions to his warriors, who at once scattered themselves among the underwood and disappeared. Ordering the Indians who carried Tom Brixton to follow him, and the riders to bring up the rear, he continued to advance up the gorge. "A devil with two faces!" muttered Tolly; "that must be a queer sort o' beast. I have heard of a critter called a Tasmanian devil, but never before heard of an Oregon one with two faces." An expressive glance from the Indian who guarded him induced the lad to continue his speculations in silence. On passing round the jutting rock, where Unaco had been checked in his advance, the party at once beheld the cause of anxiety. Close to the track they were following were seen four men busily engaged in making arrange- ments to encamp for the night. It need scarcely be said that these were our friends Paul Bevan, Fred Westly, Flinders, and the botanist. The moment that these caught sight of the approach- ing party they sprang to their arms, which of course lay handy, for in those regions, at the time we write of, the law of might was in the ascendant. The appearance and conduct of Unaco, however, deceived them, for that wily savage advanced towards them with an air of confidence and candour which went far to remove suspicion, and when, on drawing nearer, he threw down his knife and tomahawk, and held up his empty hands, their suspicions were entirely dispelled. " They 're not likely to be onfriendly," observed Flinders, L ! '^ 162 TWICE BOUGHT : ifi-Jli ■4? " for there *s only five o' them altogither, an' wan o* them 's only a bit of a boy an' another looks uncommon like a wo—" He had got thus far when he was checked by Paul Be van's exclaiming, with a look of intense surprise, " Why, that 's Betty !— or her ghost !" Flinders's astonishment was too profound to escape in many words. He only gave vent to " Musha ! there 's Tolly !" and let his lower jaw drop. " Yes, it 's me an' the Beautiful Nugget," cried Tolly, jumping off the pony and running to assist the Nugget to dismount, while the -bearers of Tom Brixton laid him on the ground, removed the blanket, and revealed his face. The exclamations of surprise would no doubt have been redoubled at this sight if the power of exclamation had not been for the time destroyed. The sham botanist in particular was considerably puzzled, for he at once recognised Tom and also Betty, whom he had previously known. Of course he did not know Tolly Trevor ; still less did he know that Tolly knew him ! Unaco himself was somewhat surprised at the mutual recognitions, though his habitual self-restraint enabled him to conceal every trace of emotion. Moreover, he was well aware that he could not afford to lose time in the development of his little plot. Taking advantage, therefore, of the surprise which had rendered every one for the moment more or less confused, he gave a sharp signal which was well understood by his friends in the bush. Instantly, and before Tolly or Betty could warn their friends of what was coming, the surrounding foliage parted, as if by magic, and a circle of yelling and painted Redskins sprang upon the white men. Resistance was A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 1G3 utterly out of the question. They were overwhelmed as if by a cataract, and, almost before they could realise what had happened, the arms of all the men were pinioned behind them. At that trying hour little Tolly Trevor proved himself to be more of a man than most of his friends had hitherto given him credit for. The savages, regarding him as a weak little boy, had paid no attention to him, but confined their efforts to the overcoming of the powerful and by no means submissive men with whom they had to deal. Tolly's first impulse was to rush to the rescue of Paul Bevan ; but he was remarkably quick-witted, and, when on the point of springing, observed that no tomahawk was wielded or knife drawn. Suddenly grasping the wrist of Betty, who had also naturally felt the impulse to succour her father, he exclaimed — " Stop ! Betty. -They d'^n't mean murder. You an' I can do nothing against r^o many. Keep quiet; p'r'aps they '11 leave us alone. As he spoke a still deeper idea flashed into his little brain. To the surprise of Betty, he suddenly threw his arms round her waist and clung to her as if for protection with a look of fear in his face, and when the work of binding the captives was completed the Indians found him still labouring to all appearance under great alarm. Unaco cast on him one look of supreme scorn, and then, leaving him, like Betty, unbound, turned towards Paul Bevan. " The white man is one of wicked band ?" he said, in his broken English. "I don't know what ye mean, Eedskin," replied Paul ; " but speak your own tongue, I understand it well enough to talk with ye." m i t, '•! m i i II Mf) 'l!» 164 TWICE BOUaUT : The Indian repeated the question in his native lan- guage, and Paul, replying in the same, said — "No, Kedskin, I belong to no band, either wicked or good." "How come you, then, to be in company with this man?" demanded the Indian. In reply Paul gave a correct account of the cause and object of his being there, explained that the starving man before them was the friend for whom he sought, that Betty was his daughter, though how she came to be there beat his comprehension entirely, and that the botanist was a stranger, whose name even he did not yet know. " It is false," returned the chief. " The white man speaks with a forked tongue. He is one of the murderers who have slain my wife and my child." A dark fierce frown passed over the chiefs countenance as he spoke, but it was quickly replaced by the habitual look of calm gravity. " What can stop me," he said, reverting again to English as he turned and addressed Betty, " from killing you as my wife was killed by white man ?" " My God can stop you," answered the girl, in a steady voice, though her heart beat fast and her face was very pale. " Your God !" exclaimed the savage. " Will your God defend the wicked ?" " No, but He will pardon the wicked who come to Him in the name of Jesus, and He will defend the innocent." " Innocent !" repeated Unaco, vehemently, as he turned and pointed to the botanist. "Does you call ^/m man innocent?" " I know nothing about that man," returned the girl, earnestly ; " but I do know that my father and I, and all the rest of us, are innocent of any crime against you." A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 165 For a few seconds the savage chief gazed steadily at Betty, then turning towards the botanist, he took a step towards the spot where ho sat and looked keenly into his face. The botanist returned the gaze with equal steadiness through his blue spectacles. I I 1* i ■.. Without a word or look the chief quietly drew tlie glittering weapon from its sheath and handed it to Betty, who at once, using a piece of sharpened stick as a fork, cut her father's portion into manageable lumps. "That's not a bad notion," said Fred. "Perhaps you'll do the same for me, Betty." " With pleasure, Mr. Westly." " Ah, now, av it wouldn't be axin* too much, might I make so bowld — " Flinders did not finish the sentence, but laid his pewter plate before the Eose of Oregon with a significant smile. " I 'm glad to be so unexpectedly useful," said Betty, with a laugh. When she had thus aided her half- helpless companions, Betty returned the knife to its owner, who received it with a dignified inclination of the head. She then filled a mug with soup, and went to Tom, who lay on a deer- skin robe, gazing at her in rapt admiration, and wonder- ing when he was going to awake out of this most singular dream, for, in his weak condition, he had taken to dis- believing all that he saw. " And yet it can't well be a dream," he murmured, with a faint smile, as the girl knelt by his side, " for I never dreamed anything half so real. What is tliis — soup ?" " Yes ; try to take a little. It will do you good, with God's blessing." "Ah, yes, with God's blessing," repeated the poor youth, earnestly. " You know what that means, Betty, and — and — I think I am be^innin." to understand it." Betty made no reply, but a feeling of profound glad- ness crept into her heart. When she returned to the side of her father she found A TALE OP THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 175 'ith that he had finished supper, and was just beginning to use his pipe. " When are you going to tell me, Paul, about the — the — subject we were talking of on our way here?" asked Fred, who was still devoting much of his attention to a deer's rib. " 1 11 tell ye now," answered Paul, with a short glance at the Indian chief, who still sat, profoundly grave, in the dreamland of smoke. " There 's no time like after supper for a good pipe an' a good story — not that what I'm goin' to tell ye is much of a story either, but it 's true, if that adds vally to it, an' it '11 be short. It 's about a brave young Indian I once had the luck to meet with. His name was Oswego." At the sound of the name Unaco cast a sharp glance at Bevan. It was so swift that no one present observed it save Bevan himself, who had expected it. But Paul pretended not to notice it, and turning himself rather more towards Fred, addressed himself pointedly to him. " This young Indian," said Paul, " was a fine specimen of his race, tall and well made, with a handsome coun- tenance, in which truth was as plain as the sun in the summer sky. I was out after grizzly b'ars at the time, but hadn't had much luck, an' was comin' back to camp one evenin' in somethin' of a sulky humour, when I fell upon a trail which I knowed was the trail of a liedskin. The Eedskins was friendly at that time wi' the whites, and as I was out alone, an' am somethin' of a sociable critter, I thought I 'd follow him up an' take him to my camp wi' me, if he was willin', an' give him some grub an' baccy. Well, I hadn't gone far when I came to a precipiece. The trail followed the edge of it for some distance, an' I went along all right till I come to a bit where the trail seemed to go right over it. My heart 11 ! 176 TWICE BOUGHT : 11 i ill. M gave a jump, for I seed at a glance that a bit o* the cliff had given way there, an' as there was no sign o' the trail farther on, of course I knowed that the Injin, whoever he was, must have gone down with it. " I tried to look over, but it was too steep an' dan- gerous, so I sought for a place where I could clamber down. Sure enough, when I reached the bottom, there lay the poor Eedskin. T thought he was dead, for he 'd tumbled from a most awful height, but a tree had broke his fall to some extent, and when I went up to him I saw by his eyes that he was alive, though he could neither speak nor move. " I soon found that the poor lad was damaged past recovery ; so, after tryin' in vain to get him to speak to me, I took him in my arms as tenderly as I could and carried him to my camp. It was five miles off, and the road was rough, and although neither groan nor com- plaint escaped him, I knew that poor Oswego suffered much by the great drops o' perspiration that rolled from his brow; so, you see, I had to carry him carefully. When T 'd gone about four miles I met a small Injin boy who said he was Oswego's brother, had seen him fall, an', not bein' able to lift him, had gone to seek for help, but had failed to find it. " That night I nursed the lad as I best could, gave him some warm tea, and did my best to arrange him comfort- ably. The poor fellow tried to speak his gratitude but couldn't ; yet I could see it in his looks. He died next day, and I buried him under a pine-tree. The poor heart-broken little brother said he knew the way back to the wigwams of his tribe, so I gave him the most of the provisions I had, told him my name, and sent him away." At this point in the story Unaco rose abruptly, and said to Bevau — A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 177 " The white man will follow me." Paul rose, and the chief led him into the forest a short way, when he turned abruptly, and, with signs of emotion unusual in au Indian, said — "Your name is Paul Bevan ?" " It is." " I am the father of Oswego," said the chief, grasping Paul by the hand and shaking it vigorously in the white man's fashion. " I know it, Unaco, and I know you by report, though we Ve never met before, and I told that story in your ear to convince ye that my tongue is not *' forked/ " When Paul Bevan returned to the camp fire, soon afterwards, he came alone, and both his arms were free. In a few seconds he had the satisfaction of undoing the bonds of his companions and relating to them the brief but interesting conversation which had just passed be- tween him and the Indian chief. , »; ^1 M i„ n ,'- 178 TWICE BOUGHT : ' BUI :i ; B :i«lil 9- : ' . 1 I J I ,« '. •■ .i - Mil Hi CHAPTER XV. AT the edge of a small plain, or bit of prairie land, that shone like a jewel in a setting of bush-clad hills, dwelt the tribe of natives who owned Unaco as their chief. It was a lovely spot, in one of the most secluded portions of the Sawback range, far removed at that time from the evil presence of the gold-diggers, though now and then an adventurous " prospector " would make his way to these remote solitudes in quest of the precious metal. Up to that time those prospectors had met with nothing to re- ward them for their pains, save the gratification to be derived from fresh mountain air and beautiful scenery. It required three days of steady travelling to enable the chief and his party to reach the wigwams of the tribe. The sun was just setting, on the evening of the third day, when they passed out of a narrow defile and came in sight of the Indian village. " It seems to me, Paul," remarked Fred Westly, as they halted to take a brief survey of the scene, "that these Indians have found an admirable spot on which to lead a r> -^^.eful life, for the region is too high and difficult of to tempt many gold-hunters, and the approaches could be easily defended by a handful of resolute men. "That is true," replied Bevan, as they continued A TALE OF THE OUEGON G0LDF1ELD3. 179 on their way. "Nevertheless, it would not bo very diOioult for a few resolute men to surprise and capture the place." "Perchance Stalker and his villains may attempt to prove the truth of what you say," suggested Fred. " They will certainly attempt it,'' returned Paul, " but they are not what I call resolute men. Scoundrels are seldom blessed wi' much resolution, an* they're never heartily united." " What makes you feel so sure that they will follow us up, Paul?" "The fact that my enemy has followed me like a bloodhound for six years," answered Bevan, with a frown. "Is it touching too much on private matters to ask why he is your enemy, and why so vindictive ?" " The reason is simple enough. Buxley hates me, and would kill me if he could. Indeed I'm half afraid that he will manage it at last, for I ve promised my little gal that I won't kill him 'cept in self-defence, an' of course if I don't kill him he 's pretty sure to kill me." " Does Betty know why this man persecutes you so ?" " No— she don't." As it was evident, both from his replies and manner, that Bevan did not mean to be communicative on the subject, Fred forbore to ask more questions about it. " So you think Unaco may be depended on ?" he asked, by way of changing the subject. " Ay, surely. You may depend on it that the Almighty made all men pretty much alike as regards their feelin's. The civilised people an' the Eedskins ain't so different as some folk seem to think. They can both of 'em love an' hate pretty stiffly, an' they are both able to feel an' show gratitude as well as the reverse — also, they're pretty equal in the matter of revenge." b2 mmt ^.aJ -b. ^ «%. ^ ^V^.^'-^-^ IMAGE FVAIUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) /. // ,<" 4?. .£?. ..'< L'?- ^/ L<'/' 5^ .(^/j I.C I.I ilM ilM IIIIM 11^ ,4^' nil 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ■^ 6" ► V2 > "9 m //a Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ill ! I', 1 ' ^ i i . ifiiii ■ ' I H i 180 TWICE BOUGHT : " But don't we find," said Fred, " that among Christiana revenge is pretty much held in check ?" " Among Christians — ay/* replied Bevan ; " but white men ain't always Christians, any more than red men are always devils. Seems to me it's six o* one an' half a dozen o' the other. Moreover, when the missionaries git among the Eedskins, some of *em turns Christians an' some hypocrites — just the same as white men. What Unaco is, in the matter o* Chrijtianity, is not for me to say, for I don't know ; but from what I do know, from hearsay, of his character, I 'm sartin sure that he 's a good man and true, an* for that little bit of sarvice I did to his poor boy he 'd give me his life if need be." "Nevertheless, I can't help thinking that we might have returned to Simpson's Gully, and taken the risk of meeting with Stalker," said Fred. "Ha! that's because you don't know him,'* returned Bevan. " If he had met with his blackguards soon after leaving us, he'd have overtook us by this time. Any way, he *s sure to send scouts all round, and follow up the trail as soon as he can." " But think what a trial this rough journey has been to poor Tom Brixton," said Fred. " No doubt," returned Paul ; " but haven't we got him on Tolly's pony to-day? and isn't that a sign he's better? An' would you have me risk Betty fallin' into the hands o' Buxley ? " Paul looked at his companion as if this were an un- answerable argument, and Fred admitted that it was. "Besides," he went on, "it will be a pleasant little visit this, to a friendly tribe o* Injins, an* we may chance to fall in wi* gold, who knows? An* when the ugly thieves do succeed in findin' us, we shall have the help ' o' the Eedskins, who axe not bad fighters when 1 fr A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 181 their cause is a good 'un an* their wigwams are in danger." " It may be so, Paul. However, right or wrong, here we are, and a mosit chp.rming spot it is, the nearer we draw towards it." As Fred spoke, Betty Bevan, who rode in advance, reined in her horse, — which, by the way, had become much more docile in her hands, — and waited till her father overtook her. " Is it not like paradise, father ? " "Not havin' been to paradise, dear, I can't exactly say," returned her matter-of-fact sire. " Oh, I say, ain't it splendatious !" said Tolly Trevor, coming up at the moment, and expressing Betty's idea in somewhat different phraseology ; ju30 look at the lake — ^like a lookin'-glass, with every wigwam pictur'd upside down, so clear that a feller can't well say which is which. An' the canoes in the same way, bottom to bottom, Eed- skins above and Sedskins below. Hallo ! I say, what 's that ?" The excited lad pointed, as he spoke, to the bushes, where a violent motion and crashing sound told of some animal disturbed in its laii-. Next moment a beautiful little antelope bounded into an open space, and stopped to cast a bewildered gaze for one moment on the in- truders. That pause proved fatal. A concealed hunter seized his opportunity; a sharp crack was heard, and the animal fell dead where it stood, shot through the head. "Poor, poor creature!" exclaimed the tender-hearted Betty. "Not a bad supper for somebody," remarked her practical father. As he spoke the bushes parted at the other side of the Hi M m (i KM I. • ! i'-<*i 182 TWICE BOUGHT : m ' i 'Kh. BM.' open space, and the man who had fired the shot appeared. He was a tall and spare, but evidently powerful fellow. As he advanced towards our travellers* they could see that he was not a son of the soil, but a white man — at least as regards Llood, though his face, hands, neck, and bared bosom had been tanned by exposure to as red a brown as that of any Indian. "He's a trapper," exclaimed Tolly, as the man drew nearer, enabling them to perceive that he was middle-aged and of rather slow and deliberate temperament, with a sedate expression on his rugged countenance. " Ay, he looks like one o' these wanderin' chaps," said Bevan, " that seem to be fond of a life o' solitude in the wilderness. I ve knowed a few of 'em. Queer customers some, that stick at nothin' when their blood 's up ; though I have met wi' one or two that desarved an easier life, an' more o' this world's goods. But most of 'em prefer to hunt for their daily victuals, an* on'y come down to the settlements when they run out o* powder an' lead, or want to sell their furs. Hallo ! Why, Tolly, boy, it is — yes ! I do believe it 's Mahogany Drake him- self!" Tolly did not reply, for he had run eagerly forward to meet the trapper, having already recognised him. " His name is a strange one," remarked Fred Westly, gazing steadily at the man as he approached. "Drake is his right name," explained Bevan, "an* Mahogany is a handle some fellers gave him 'cause he 's so much tanned wi' the sun. He 's one o the right sort, let me tell ye. None o' your boastin', bustin' critters, like Gashford, but a quiet, thinkin* man, as is ready to tackle any subject a*most in the univarse, but can let his tongue lie till it 's time to speak. He can hold his own, too shot .^ 4^ M ll t M A BEAUTIFUL ANTELOPE BOUNDED FORTH. -Paqe 181. A TALE OF THE OREGON QOLDFIELDS. 185 wi' man or beast. Ain't he friendly wi* little Tolly Trevor? He'll shake his arm out o' the socket if he don't take care. I '11 have to go to the rescue." In a few seconds Paul Bevan was having his own arm almost dislocated by the friendly shake of the trapper's hand, for, although fond of solitude. Mahogany Drake was also fond of human beings, and especially of old friends. " Glad to see you, gentlemen," he said, in a low, soft voice, when introduced by Paul to the travellers. At the same time he gave a friendly little nod to Unaco, thus indicating that with the Indian chief he was already acquainted. " Well, Drake," said Bevan, after the first greetings were over, " all right at the camp down there ?" " All well," he replied, " and the Leaping Buck quite recovered." He cast a quiet glance at the Indian chief as he spoke, for the Leaping Buck was Unaco's little son, who had been ailing when his father left his village a few weeks before. " No sign o' gold-seekers yet ?" asked Paul. " None — 'cept one lot that ranged about the hills for a few days, but they seemed to know nothin*. Sartinly they found lothin', an' went away disgusted." The trapper indulged in a quiet chuckle as he said this. "What are ye larfin' at? ' asked Paul. " At the gold-seekers," replied Drake. " What was the matter wi' 'em," asked Tolly. " Not much, lad, only they was blind, and also ill of a strong appetite." " Ye was always fond o' speakin' in riddles," said Paul. "What d'ye mean, Mahogany?" M :! II 186 TWICE BOUGHT : i i M •Ml't '*» " I mean that though there ain't much gold in these hills, maybe, what little there is the seekers couldn't see, though they was walkin' over it, an' they was so blind they couldn't hit what they fired at, so their appetites was stronger than was comfortable. I do believe they 'd have starved if I hadn't killed a buck for them." During this conversation Paddy Flinders had been listening attentively and in silence. He now sidled up to Tom Brixton, who, although bestriding Tolly's pony, seemed ill able to travel. " D'ye hear what the trapper says. Muster Brixton ?" " Yes, Paddy, what then ?" " Och ! I only tliought to cheer you up a bit by p'intin' out that he says there 's goold hereabouts." " I 'm glad for your sake and Fred's," returned Tom, with a faint smile, " but it matters little to me ; I feel that my days are numbered." "Ah! then, sor, don't spake like that," returned Flinders, with a woebegone expression on his countenance. " Sure, it *s in the dumps ye are, an* no occasion for that same. Isn't Miss — " The Irishman paused. He had it in his heart to say, " Isn't Miss Betty smilin' on ye like one o'clock V* but, never yet having ventured even a hint on that subject to Tom, an innate feeling of delicacy restrained him. As the chief who led the party gave the signal to move on at that moment, it was unnecessary for him to finish the seni^nce. The Indian village, which was merely a cluster of tents made of deerskins stretched on poles, was now plainly visible from the commanding ridge along which the party travelled. It occupied a piece of green level land on the margin of the lake before referred to, and, with its background of crag and woodland and its distance A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 187 of jagged purple hills, formed as lovely a prospect as the eye of man could dwell upon. The distance of the party from it rendered every sound that floated towards them soft and musical. Even the barkinfj of the dogs and the shouting of the little Red- skins at play came up to them in a mellow, almost peaceful, tone. To the right of the village lay a swamp, from out of which arose the sweet and plaintive cries of innumer- able gulls, plovers, and other wild-fowl, mingled with the trumpeting of geese and the quacking of ducks, many of which were flying to and fro over the glassy lake, while others were indulging in aquatic gambols a-mong the reeds and sedges. After they had descended the hill-side by a zigzag path, and reached the plain below, they obtained a nearer view of the eminently joyful scene, the sound of the wild-fowl became more shrill, and the laughter of the children more boisterous. A number of the latter who had observed the approaching party were seen hurrying towards them with eager haste, led by a little lad, who bounded and leaped as if wild with excitement. This was Unaco's little son, Leaping Buck, who had recognised the well-known figure of his sire a long way off, and ran to meet him. On reaching him the boy sprang like an antelope into his father's arms and seized him round the neck, while others crowded round the gaunt trapper and grasped his hands and legs affectionately. A few of the older boys and girls stood still somewhat shyly, and gazed in silence at'^the strangers, especially at Betty, whom they evidently regarded as a superior order of being — perhaps an angel — in which opinion they were undoubtedly backed by Tom Brixton. After embracing his father, Leaping Buck recognised 4 I ' » !l I ;i||j ■hU wfm n 1 1 m ;! ! ■'•■!l I » 1 ' ■ -^ H. % 188 TWIOB BOUGHT : Paul Bevan as the man who had been so kind to him and his brother Oswego at the time when the latter got his death- fall over the precipice. With a shout of joyful surprise he ran to him, and, we need scarcely add, was warmly received by the kindly backwoodsman. " I cannot help thinking," remarked Betty to Tom, as they gazed on the pleasant meeting, " that God must have some way of revealing the Spirit of Jesus to these Indians that we Christians know not of." " It is strange," replied Tom, " that the same thought has occurred to me more than once of late, when observing the character and listening to the sentiments of Unaco. And I have also been puzzled with this thought — if God has some method of revealing Christ to the heathen that we know not of, why are Christians so anxious to send the Gospel to the heathen ?" " That thought has never occurred to me," replied Betty, " because our reason for going forth to preach the Gospel to the heathen is the simple one that God com- mands us to do so. Yet it seems to me quite consistent with that command that God may have other ways and methods of making His truth known to men, but this being a mere speculation does not free us from our simple duty." " You are right. Perhaps I am too fond of reasoning and speculating," answered Tom. " Nay, that you are not," rejoined the girl, quickly; "it seems to me that to reason and speculate is an important part of the duty of man, and cannot but be right, so long as it does not lead to disobedience. * Let every man ba fully persuaded in his own mind,' is our title from God to tliinh fully and freely ; but ' Go ye into all the world and preach the Gospel to every creature,' is a command so plain and peremptory that it does not c.dmit of specu- lative objection." ■■i A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 189 " Why, Betty, I had no idea you were such a rcasoner !" said Tom, with a look of surprise. " Surely it is not your father who has taught you to think thus ?" " I have had no teacher, at least of late years, but the Bible," replied the girl, blushing deeply at having been led to speak so freely on a subject about which she was usually reticent. " But see," she added hastily, giving a shake to the reins of her horse, "we have been left behind. The chief has already reached his village. Let us push on." The obstinate horse went off at an accommodating amble under the sweet sway of gentleness, while the obedient pony followed at a brisk trot which nearly shook all the little strength that Tom Brixton possessed out of his wasted frame. The manner in which Unaco was received by the people of his tribe, young and old, showed clearly that he was well beloved by them ; and the hospitality with which the visitors were welcomed was intensified when it was made known that Paul Bevan was the man who had shown kindness to their chiefs son Oswego in his last hours. Indeed, the influence which an Indian chief can have on the manners and habits of his people was well exemplified by this small and isolated tribe, for there was among them a pervading tone of contentment and goodwill which was one of Unaco's most obvious charac- teristics. Truthfulness, also, and justice were more or less manifested by them. Even the children seemed to be free from disputation; for, although there were of course differences of opinion during games, these differ- ences were usually settled without quarrelling, and the noise, of which there was abundance, was the result of gleeful shouts or merry laughter. They seemed, in short, to be a happy community, the various members of which m i 1, ' I:.. !W |!| Vf* 190 TWICE BOUGHT : had learned — to a largo extent from their chief — " how good a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." A tent was provided for Bevan, Flinders, and Tolly Trevor near to the wigwam of Unaco, with a separate little one for the special use of the Rose of Oregon. Not far from these another tent was erected for Fred ar his invalid friend Tom Brixton. As for Mahogany L.ake, that lanky, lantern-jawed individual encamped under a neighbouring pine-tree in quiet contempt of any more luxurious coverinij. But, although the solitary wanderer of the western wilderness thus elected to encamp by himself, he was by no means permitted to enjoy privacy, for during the whole evening and greater part of that night his camp- fire was surrounded by an admiring crowd of boys, and not a few girls, who listened in open-eyed-and-mouthed attention to his thrilling tales of adventure, giving vent now and then to a " waugh !" or a "ho !" of surprise at some telling point in the narrative, or letting fly sudden volleys of laughter at some humorous incident, to the amazement, no doubt, of the neighbouring bucks and bears and wild-fowl. " Tom," said Fred that night, as he sat by the couch of his friend, " we shall have to stay here some weeks, I suspect, until you get strong enough to travel, and, to say truth, the prospect is a pleasant as well as an unexpected one, for we have fallen amongst amiable natives." " True, Fred. Nevertheless I shall leave the moment my strength permits — that is, if health be restored to me — and I shall go off by myself." " "Why, Tom, what do you mean?" "I mean exactly what I say. Dear Fred," answered the sick man, feebly grasping his friend's hand, " I feel A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIEhUS. 191 that it is my duty to get away from all wlio have ever known me, and begin a new career of honesty, God per- mitting. I will not remain with the character of a thief stamped upon me to be a drag round your neck, and I have made up my mind no longer to persecute dear Betty Bevan with the offer of a dishonest and dishonoured hand. In my insolent folly I had once thought her some- what below me in station. I now know that she is far, far a))ove me in every way, and also beyond me." " Tom, my dear boy," returned Fred, earnestly, " you are getting weak. It is evident that they have delayed supper too long. Try to sleep now, and I '11 go and see why Tolly has not brought it." So saying, Fred VVestly left the tent and went off in quest of his little friend. I ■**: 192 TWICE BOUGHT CHAPTEE XVI. LITTLE Tolly Trevor and Leaping Buck — being about the same age, and having similar tastes and pro- pensities, though very unlike each other in temperament — soon became fast friends, and they both regarded Mahogany Drake, the trapper, with almost idolatrous affection. "Would you care to come wi' me to-day, Tolly? I'm goin' to look for some meat on the heights." It was thus that Drake announced his intention to go a-hunting one fine morning after he had disposed of a breakfast that might have sustained an ordinary man for several days. " Care to go with ye ! " echoed Tolly, " I just think I should. But, look here, Mahogany," continued the boy, with a troubled expression, " I 've promised to go out on the lake to-day wi* Leaping Buck, an I must keep my promise. You know you told us only last night in that story about the Chinaman and the grizzly that no true man ever breaks his promise." " Eight, lad, right," returned the trapper, " but you can go an' ask the little Buck to jine us, an' if he's inclined you can both come — only you must agree to leave yer tongues behind ye if ye do, for it behoves hunters to be silent, and from my experience of you I raither think yer too fond o' chatterin'." A TALE OF THE OREGON GOLDFIELDS. 193 I'm Befors Drake had quite concluded his remark Tolly was ofiF in search of his red-skinned bosom friend. The manner in which the friendship between the red boy and the white was instituted and kept up was some- what peculiar and almost incomprehensible, for neither spoke the language of the other except to a very slight extent. Leaping Buck's father had, indeed, picked up a pretty fair smattering of English during his frequent expeditions into the gold-fields, which, at the period we write of, were being rapidly developed. Paul Bevan, too, during occasional hunting expeditions among the red men, had acquired a considerable knowledge of the dialect spoken in that part of the country, but Leaping Buck had not visited the diggings with his father, so that his know- ledge of English was confined to the smattering which he had picked up from Paul and his father. In like manner Tolly Trevor's acquaintance with the native tongue con- sisted of the little that had been imparted to him by his friend Paul Pevan, Mahogany Drake, on the contrary, spoke Indian fluently, and it must be understood that in the discourses which he delivered to the two boys he mixed up English and Indian in an amazing compound which served to render him intelligible to both, but which, for the reader's sake, we feel constrained to give in the trapper's ordinary English. " It was in a place just like this," said Drake, stopping with his two little friends on reaching a height, and turning round to survey the scene behind him, "that a queer splinter of a man who was fond o* callin' himself an ornithologist, shot a grizzly b'ar wi' a mere popgun that was only fit for a squawkin' babby's play- thing." " Oh ! do sit down, Mahogany," cried little Trevor, in a voice of entreaty ; " I 'm so fond of hearin' about N Mil