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"I consider your intention quite as bad. You wanted to prevent this poor Chinaman from ever returning to his native land, though he had never injured you in any way. You can't deny it."

"I don't belave a word of all that rigmarole, Dick Dewey."

"It makes little difference whether you believe it or not. You have shown a disposition to injure and annoy Ki Sing, but I have foiled you. And now," here Dewey's tone became deep and stern, "give me that knife directly, and go back to your tent, or I'll rouse the camp, and they may form their own conclusions as to what brought you here."

O'Reilly felt that Dewey was in earnest, and that he must yield. He did so with a bad grace enough and slunk back to his tent, which he did not leave till morning.

Early in the morning, Richard Dewey awakened Ki Sing.

"You had better not stay here, Ki Sing," he said. "There are those who would do you mischief. Go into the mountains, and you may find gold. There you will be safe."

"Melican man velly good-me go," said the Chinaman submissively.

"Good luck to you, Ki Sing!"

"Good luckee, Melican man!"

So the two parted, and when morning came to the camp, nothing was to be seen of the Chinaman.

Dewey returned O'Reilly's knife, the latter receiving it in sullen silence.

It was not long afterward that Richard Dewey himself left Murphy's in search of a richer claim.







CHAPTER XXXI. — ON THE MOUNTAIN PATH.

My readers will not have forgotten Bill Mosely and his companion Tom Hadley, who played the mean trick upon Bradley and our hero of stealing their horses. I should be glad to state that they were overtaken and punished within twenty-four hours, but it would not be correct. They had a great advantage over their pursuers, who had only their own feet to help them on, and, at the end of the first day, were at least ten miles farther on than Ben and Bradley.

As the two last, wearied and well-nigh exhausted, sat down to rest, Bradley glanced about him long and carefully in all directions.

"I can't see anything of them skunks, Ben," he said.

"I suppose not, Jake. They must be a good deal farther on."

"Yes, I reckon so. They've got the horses to help them, while we've got to foot it. It was an awful mean trick they played on us."

"That's so, Jake."

"All I ask is to come up with 'em some of these days."

"What would you do?"

"I wouldn't take their lives, for I ain't no murderer, but I'd tie 'em hand and foot, and give 'em a taste of a horsewhip, or a switch, till they'd think they was schoolboys again."

"You might not be able to do it. They would be two to one."

"Not quite, Ben. I'd look for some help from you."

"I would give you all the help I could," said Ben.

"I know you mean it, and that you wouldn't get scared, and desert me, as a cousin of mine did once when I was set upon by robbers."

"Was that in California?"

"No; in Kentucky. I had a tough job, but I managed to disable one of the rascals, and the other ran away."

"What did your cousin have to say?"

"He told me, when I caught up with him, that he was goin' in search of help, but I told him that was too thin. I told him I wouldn't keep his company any longer, and that he had better go his way and I would go mine. He tried to explain things, but there are some things that ain't so easily explained, that I wouldn't hear him. I stick to my friends, and I expect them to stand by me."

"That's fair, Jake."

"That's the way I look at it. I wonder where them rascals are?"

"You mean Mosely and his friend?"

"Yes. What galls me, Ben, is that they're likely laughin' in their shoes at the way they've tricked us, and there's no help for it."

"Not just now, Jake, but we may overtake them yet. Till we do, we may as well take things as easy as we can."

"You're right, Ben. You'mind me of an old man that used to live in the place where I was raised. He never borrered any trouble, but when things was contrary, he waited for 'em to take a turn. When he saw a neighbor frettin', he used to say, 'Fret not thy gizzard, for it won't do no good.'"

Ben laughed.

"That was good advice," he said.

"I don't know where he got them words from. Maybe they're in the Bible."

"I guess not," said Ben, smiling. "They don't sound like it."

"Perhaps you're right," said Bradley, not fully convinced, however. "Seems to me I've heard old Parson Brown get off something to that effect."

"Perhaps it was this-'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"

"Perhaps it was. Is that from the Bible?"

"Yes."

"It might have been made a little stronger," said Bradley thoughtfully. "The evil of some days is more than sufficient, accordin' to my notion."

The two explorers camped out as usual, and the fatigue of their day's tramp insured them a deep, refreshing sleep. The next day they resumed their journey, and for several days to come no incident worthy of mention varied the monotony of their march. Toward the close of the fourth day they saw from a distance a figure approaching them, who seemed desirous of attracting their attention. Ben was the first to see him.

"Jake," said he, "look yonder!"

"It's a Chinee!" said Bradley, in surprise.

"How did the critter come here, in the name of wonder?"

"I suppose he is looking for gold as well as we."

"The heathen seems to be signalin' us. He's wavin' his arm."

This was the case. The Chinaman, for some reason, seemed to wish to attract the attention of the newcomers. He stopped short, and waited for Ben and Bradley to come up.

"Who are you, my yeller

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