Young Wild West at "Forbidden Pass" and, How Arietta Paid the Toll. Old scout
The rascals—for they were undoubtedly such—did not stop to make a reply, but darted into the saloon.
The Chinaman gave a parting laugh, and then, turning to the other Celestial, observed:
"Me havee velly nallow escapee, my blother."
"You allee samee velly muchee fool!" was the retort. "You allee timee lookee for um tanglefoot, so be."
"Me havee two velly nicee lillee dlinks, my blother; you no havee."
"Me no wantee," was the scornful rejoinder.
It was Wing, the cook, who claimed he did not want any whisky.
He was just a common, everyday Chinee, who did his work well and slept whenever he had nothing else to do, providing no one disturbed him.
Hop, on the other hand, was one of the very shrewd and cunning ones of his race.
Gifted with the art of sleight-of-hand, a lover of gambling and a fondness for playing jokes on people had made him a great character, indeed.
But he was a real fixture to the party that Young Wild West led, and as he had on more than one occasion been the means of saving the lives of different members of it through his cleverness, he was thought a great deal of by them all, and many of his shortcomings were overlooked.
Having disposed of the cowboys, Young Wild West now asked the keeper of the saloon if he thought there would be any objections to their pitching a camp somewhere around in the vicinity.
"I reckon not," was the reply. "There ain't no one as lives here in Big Bonanza, what would 'ject ter anything like that. They've all heard tell about Young Wild West, I reckon, an' some of 'em says as how they've seen yer. Yer kin bet that yer will be welcome here! Jest help yourselves ter any spot yer want."
"Thank you. I thought perhaps some one might raise objections—the three cowboys, for instance."
"Oh, they're strangers here. I never seen them until this afternoon. They must have come a putty long ways, fur there ain't a ranch in a hundred miles of here, as I knows of. Go ahead an' pick out a place ter camp. Ther boys will be here in a few minutes, fur it's about quittin' time now. I'll tell 'em that Young Wild West, ther champion deadshot, is here, an' you kin bet that they'll give yer a royal welcome!"
CHAPTER II.
OUR FRIENDS HEAR ABOUT FORBIDDEN PASS.
Young Wild West was not long in picking out a spot to camp upon.
It was right near a little, running brook that came tumbling down the steep rocks and wound its way through the gentle slope upon which was located the cluster of shanties.
It was easy to tell that the mining camp had not been in existence very long, for the shanties were new.
As soon as the pack horses were unloaded our friends allowed the two Chinamen to go ahead with the work of getting the camp in shape, while they took a look around.
Almost opposite to the point they had rounded in order to ride into the mining camp was a high ridge, which was easily a hundred feet above the level. It extended around on both sides and joined the sloping, irregular side of the mountain over which the trail ran.
Almost in the centre of this was a cut that was about thirty feet in width, and it was so regular in shape that one would almost have taken it to be the work of man.
But it was nothing more than one of the passes that are to be found in the mountains, and which are so handy for travelers to proceed to a given point in a more direct line.
Young Wild West noticed that a trail ran through the camp direct to the pass. But it did not appear as though it was used a great deal, since the wagon-ruts and hoof-prints had become obliterated in some parts.
"I wonder where that trail leads to?" our hero observed, as he tamed to his two partners. "Wherever it goes, there are not many using it now, it seems."
"It leads on up in the wilds of the mountains, by the looks of things," Jim Dart answered. "It may be that prospectors have gone that way and, not finding anything worth while, have come back through the pass again."
"Sorter looks that way, I reckon," said Cheyenne Charlie. "But, hello! Ther miners is quittin' work. Now we'll soon see how many of 'em knows us, as ther saloon man said they did."
Sure enough, the miners were seen heading for the saloon. They came from different directions, for it was just six o'clock now, and they had quit work for the day.
The claims that were being worked were all within sight of the shanties, the nearest one being but a couple of hundred yards away from the saloon, which appeared to be the leading place in the camp.
But as the store was very near to it, it might be that some of the men were bound there.
Having satisfied themselves that it was a very nice, little mining camp, our friends turned to and assisted the Chinamen to get things in shape.
They did not intend to remain there any longer to get a rest than for a day or two, but they were always interested when they struck a spot where gold dust was being taken out.
No end of good luck had followed them in their search for gold, and Arietta, the charming sweetheart of the dashing young deadshot, had the lead over them all, as far as making discoveries that were profitable to them were concerned.
But it was nothing more than chance that had brought them to Big Bonanza, and, as was usually the case, a little excitement had started immediately upon their arrival.
But none of our friends minded what had happened.
They were so used to meeting "bad men," as many of the miners and cowboys were proud to style themselves, that there was absolutely nothing new to it.
Meanwhile the miners were not long in reaching the saloon, and the store adjacent to it.
Then it was only a few minutes before half a dozen were seen approaching the spot where the two Chinamen had finished putting up the tents that belonged to the camping outfit.
"Hello, Young Wild West!" called out a big man, with a short, gray beard on his face. "How are yer? An' how's everybody with yer?"
"First rate," answered Wild, as he shook hands with the miner, but failed to recognize him. "How are you?"
"Me? Oh, I'm fine! I've struck it rich here in ther wilds of Nevady, my boy! I'm ther prospector what started ther camp. I named her Big Bonanza, an' it sartinly has been a big bonanza fur me. Beats minin' up in Weston, all right."
"Weston, eh?"
Then our hero remembered of having seen the man before.
The short, gray beard had changed his appearance wonderfully.
The miner was John Sedgwick, a former bartender at a hotel in the little town in the Black Hills that had been named for our hero.
"Sedgwick, I didn't know you," he said, smiling at him. "What in the world are you doing with that gray beard? It makes you look twenty years older."
"Well, we ain't got no barber shop here yet, an' I never was much good at shavin' myself, so I jest let ther beard grow. But what's ther odds? I'll shave up an' spruce up jest as soon as I've made my pile. Then I'll light out fur home, an' me an' my wife will live on ther fat of ther land. I've got nigh to a hundred thousand now, an' jest as soon as I git it I'm goin' ter strike out fur ther East. Hello, Charlie! Hello, Jim!"
He now shook hands with our hero's partners, for they had recognized him as an old acquaintance the moment Wild spoke to him.
The girls had seen Sedgwick, too, and they greeted him warmly.
"Well," said the miner, "I reckon there ain't