Two Boy Gold Miners: or, Lost in the Mountains. Webster Frank V.
they reached the turn of the road, around which the horse had disappeared, they looked ahead, hoping to get a sight of the runaway. But the road twisted and turned so that it was impossible to see very far.
"Hello, Mr. Johnson!" called Jed to a man who was hoeing some cabbages in a field near the highway. "Did you see our brown horse pass here a while ago?"
"Was that your hoss?" asked the man, straightening up, and wiping his head with a big, red handkerchief.
"Yep."
"Waal, I couldn't tell whether it was a hoss or a cow, it were goin' so fast, and th' dust was so thick. I never see it so dry, not since seventy-three. I guess – "
"Then the horse went on toward Fentonville?" asked Jed, interrupting the farmer, who was one of the greatest talkers in that locality.
"Yep, he did that. But, as I was sayin', I ain't seen it so dry since seventy-three. That was th' year I – "
"Come on, Will," spoke Jed, in a low voice. "I've heard that story a dozen times. Much obliged," he called to Mr. Johnson. "We want to catch him before the gypsies nab him," and with that the two boys ran on.
"Humph!" exclaimed Mr. Johnson, as he looked after the disappearing lads. "They're in a turrible hurry. I ain't never seen it so dry since seventy-three, and that year I – " Then he seemed to realize that he had no audience, and he began to hoe the cabbages again.
Meanwhile Jed and Will ran on. When they came to a straight stretch of road, they looked eagerly down it, but they were not rewarded by a sight of the horse.
"I didn't think he would run so long," remarked Will.
"Especially on a hot day like this," added Jed. "I'm going to slow down a bit. You're so thin, Will, the heat doesn't have a good chance to get at you." Jed was inclined to fleshiness.
"We'd ought to have taken the other horse to chase after Pete on," said Will.
"Ned couldn't carry both of us."
"I didn't mean we were both to ride him."
"Oh, I suppose I could walk, and you'd ride."
"I'm not particular. But it's too late to think of that now. I wonder why we can't see him? He must have turned off somewhere."
"Very likely. Here comes a man. We'll ask him."
Down the road the boys saw approaching a rather elderly man. He walked slowly, leaning heavily on a cane, and over his shoulder was a bundle.
"Looks like a pedler," commented Jed.
"Maybe he's one of the gypsy gang," suggested Will.
"Guess not. They very seldom travel alone. No, he's a white man, but he's tanned enough to be a gypsy," went on Jed, as the stranger approached closer.
"Morning, boys," said the man, pleasantly. "Hot, ain't it? My, you look all played out! Is the sheriff after you?"
"The sheriff?" repeated Jed, for the words were somewhat puzzling to him.
"Yes. Out West, where I hail from, a man doesn't run the way you have unless the sheriff gets after him. And then usually he does his running on a horse."
"Well, we happen to be doing our running after a horse," replied Jed, with a smile. "You didn't happen to see a brown horse with only a bridle on, as you came along, did you?"
"Did he have a white spot on the breast?"
"Yes," said Will, eagerly.
"Then I guess I saw him. I was walking along, a way back, going slow because my corn hurts me, and I see a cloud of dust coming toward me, lickity-split. I thought it was a drove of steers on a stampede at first, and I got out of the way. Then I see it was only one horse. Queer how much dust he did kick up, but then it's terrible dry in these parts. Worse than the Nevada desert in midsummer."
"Where did the horse go?" asked Jed, a little impatiently, for he did not care for all those details.
"I'm coming to that, my lad. Just after he passed me the horse seemed to think he'd run enough, and he jumped over a fence, into a pasture, and began to eat. Pretty good jump it was, too, after the way he'd been running."
"Come on, Will!" cried Jed. "We'll catch him."
"Hold on, and I'll help you," exclaimed the man, as he followed the two boys down the road.
CHAPTER III
THE GOLD MINER
"Shall we let him help us?" asked Will, in a low tone, of his brother.
"I guess so. I don't see why we shouldn't. He was kind enough to tell us about the horse."
"I know; but he seems like a queer character."
"Oh, I guess he's all right. He said he was from out West, and the folks there are a little different from those in this part of the country. We'll wait for him."
The boys, who had started off at a fast pace, on hearing where their horse was, now slackened their gait, to allow the man to catch up to them.
"You seem to be in pretty much of a hurry, boys," remarked the stranger.
"Well, it means quite a loss to us if that horse gets away," replied Jed. "We were cultivating corn, my brother and I, and Pete took a notion he wanted a vacation. We're afraid he'll get hurt, or stolen, and we only have one other horse."
"Where might you boys live?"
"About a mile back," replied Will.
"And what might your names be?"
Jed told him, wondering the while at the man's rather queer manner.
"And what might be the name of the place where you live?"
"Well, it might be almost anything," responded Jed, unable to withstand the chance to make a little joke, "but it happens to be Lockport."
"Lockport. That's a queer name. If it was out West, where I come from, they'd probably call it 'Dead Man's Gulch,' or 'Red Horseville,' or 'Eagle Pass,' or some such common-sense name as that. But Lockport – "
"They call it that because when you're there you're as good as locked up," spoke Jed. "You can't get away from it; that is, if you're poor."
"Are you poor?" inquired the man, with a quick look from under his shaggy brows at the two boys.
"Well, we don't throw any gold dollars over our left shoulder," replied Jed. "My father is a farmer, and I never knew any rich ones."
"That's so," admitted the man. "They generally have to work hard for their money."
"Say, if we're going to catch that horse, we'd better hurry," remarked Will, who was anxious lest the animal might again take a notion to run away.
"That's so, boys. I didn't mean to detain you. Step along lively. I guess you'll find that Gabe Harrison can keep up to you. I'm pretty lively, if I am old."
"Is you name Gabe Harrison?" asked Jed.
"That's it. Gabe – short for Gabriel – only I'm no relation to the trumpet blower, so don't think the end of the world is coming. Now trot along, and we'll catch the horse. Then we can talk afterward."
It was good advice, and the boys followed it. When they hurried on, for a quarter of a mile further, they saw, in a field near the highway, old Pete calmly browsing on what little grass was left after the dry spell.
"There he is!" exclaimed Will. "I'll catch him. I can run faster than you, Jed."
"Better go easy," advised Gabe Harrison. "Once a horse finds out what fun it is to run away, he's liable to want to do some more of it."
"He never did it before," observed Jed.
"There's always a first time. Here, I'll tell you what to do. It's the way I used to catch my mule when he took a notion to be contrary, and would stray away when I was prospecting."
"Prospecting for what?" asked Jed, who was beginning to be interested in the stranger.
"For gold, of course. I'm an old gold miner, but I'm down on my luck now. Here, take some of this salt, and