KEPT BY JIM BROWN.

"I believe we are getting into the domain of civilization," said Richard Dewey. "Actually, here is a hotel. If Mr. Brown is not too exorbitant in his prices, we had better put up here for the night."

"It doesn't look like an expensive hotel," said Ben, looking at the rough shanty which the proprietor had dignified by the appellation of "hotel."

It was roughly put together, had but one story, was unpainted, and was altogether hardly equal, architecturally, to some of the huts which are to be found among the rocks at the upper end of Manhattan Island.

Such was Jim Brown's "Golden Gulch Hotel." Such as it was, however, it looked attractive to our pilgrims, who for so long had been compelled to be their own cooks and servants.

They found, upon inquiry, that Jim Brown's terms for supper, lodging, and breakfast were five dollars a day, or as nearly as that sum could be reached in gold-dust. It was considerably higher than the prices then asked at the best hotels in New York and Philadelphia; but high prices prevailed in California, and no one scrupled to pay them.

The party decided to remain, and the landlord set to work to prepare them a supper as good as the limited resources of the Golden Gulch Hotel would allow. Still, the fare was better and more varied than our travellers had been accustomed to for a long time, and they enjoyed it.

Ki Sing sat down to the table with them. This was opposed at first by Jim Brown, the landlord, who regarded Chinamen as scarcely above the level of his mules.

"You don't mean to say you want that heathen to sit down at the table with you?" he remonstrated.

"Yes, I do," said Richard Dewey.

"I'd sooner be kicked by a mule than let any yaller heathen sit next to me," remarked Jim Brown, whose education and refinement made him sensitive to such social contamination.

Richard Dewey smiled. "Of course you can choose for yourself," he said.

"Ki Sing is a friend of mine, though he is acting as my servant, and I want him to have equal privileges."

Jim Brown remarked that of course Dewey could choose his own company, though he intimated that he thought his taste might be improved.

"Me eatee aftelward," said Ki Sing when he perceived that his presence at the table was the subject of controversy, but he was overruled by Richard Dewey, who possessed a large share of independence, and would not allow himself to be controlled or influenced by the prejudices of others.

This may not seem a very important matter, but it aroused a certain hostility on the part of the landlord, which arrayed him against Dewey and his companions at a critical time.

Entirely unconscious of the storm that was soon to gather about them, the little party did good justice to the supper which Mr. Brown set before them.

"How would it seem, Jake, to have supper like this every night?"

remarked Ben.

"It would make me feel like a prince," answered Jake Bradley.

"It is no better than I used to get at Uncle Job's, and yet he was a poor man. How he would stare if he knew I was paying five dollars a day for no better fare than he gave me!" replied our hero.

"That's true, Ben; but maybe it's easier to get the five dollars here than it would have been to sc.r.a.pe together fifty cents at home."

"You're right there, Jake. Fifty cents was a pretty big sum to me a year ago. I don't believe Uncle Job himself averages over a dollar and a quarter a day, and he has a family to support. If I only do well here, I'll make him comfortable in his old age."

"I guess you'll have the chance, Ben. You're the boy to succeed. You're smart, and you're willin' to work, and them's what leads to success out here."

"Thank you, Jake. I will try to deserve your favorable opinion."

As Ben finished these words, there was a confused noise outside, the hoa.r.s.e murmur as of angry men, and a minute later Jim Brown the landlord entered the room, his face dark and threatening.

"Strangers," said he, "I reckoned there was something wrong about you when you let that yaller heathen sit down with you. Now, I know it. You ain't square, respectable men; you're hoss-thieves!"

CHAPTER XV.

BILL MOSELY REAPPEARS.

It will be necessary to go back a little in order to explain how so extraordinary a charge came to be made against the party in which we are interested.

Bill Mosely and Tom Hadley did not become reconciled to the loss of their stolen horses. They found it much less agreeable to use their own legs than the legs of the two mustangs which had borne them so comfortably over the hills. They cursed the fate which had led to their meeting with Ki Sing, and the poor Chinaman would have fared worse at their hands had they antic.i.p.ated the trouble which he indirectly brought them.

Bill Mosely was naturally lazy; any sort of work he considered beneath him, and he desired to avoid all possible trouble in the lawless and vagabond life which he had chosen. He took it worse, indeed, than his companion, who was neither so shiftless nor so lazy as he.

During the few days which had elapsed since they were glad to leave the mountain-cabin they had averaged less than ten miles' daily travel. They had money enough to purchase animals to replace those which had been taken from them, but had not found any one who was willing to sell for a reasonable price, and Mosely, though he came easily by his money, was far from lavish in the spending of it.

It chanced that an hour after the arrival of Richard Dewey and his party at the Golden Gulch Hotel, Mosely and his companion, dusty and tired, approached the small mining-settlement, of which the hotel was the princ.i.p.al building.

They had had nothing to eat since morning, and both of them felt hungry, not to say ravenous.

"Thank Heaven, Tom, there's a mining-town!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mosely, with an expression of devotion not usual to him. "Now we can get something to eat, and I, for my part, feel as empty as a drum. It's hard travelling on an empty stomach."

"I should say so," remarked Mr. Hadley, with his usual formula. It must be admitted, however, that in the present instance he was entirely sincere, and fully meant what he said.

"There's a hotel," said Tom Hadley, a minute later, venturing on an original observation.

"So there is; what is the name?" inquired Mosely, who was not as far-sighted as his companion.

"The Golden Gulch Hotel," answered Hadley, shading his eyes and reading from a distance of fifty rods the pretentious sign of the little inn.

"I suppose they'll charge a fortune for a supper," said Mosely, whose economical spirit was troubled by the exorbitant prices then prevalent in California, "but we must have it at any cost."

"I should say so," a.s.sented Tom Hadley, cordially.

"You always have a good appet.i.te of your own," observed Mosely, not without sarcasm, which, however, Tom Hadley was too obtuse to comprehend.

"I should say so," returned Tom complacently, as if he had received a compliment.

"No doubt you'll get your money's worth, no matter how much we pay for supper."

Tom Hadley himself was of this opinion, and so expressed himself.

They had already caught sight of two mustangs which were browsing near the Golden Gulch Hotel, and the sight of these useful animals excited the envy and longing of Bill Mosely.

"Do you see them mustangs, Tom?" he inquired.

"I should say so."