Next day was Sunday and Browning was up early. He said to Sedgwick: "Wait until I go and prospect the croppings about here a little. It is a good while since I was on this lead, and I want to see how it has been worked since I went away."

He came back in half an hour a good deal worked up. "Do you know, Jim,"

he said, "by Jove, they are all gone! That old step-father has 'gone pards with old Jenvie, and they have all moved to London, and are running a banking and brokerage establishment. I have their address and we will chase them up to-morrow, but I do not like the look of things at all.

Why, Rose Jenvie in one season in London would blossom out and shine like a gold bar."

"Stuff," answered Sedgwick. "In Texas we always noticed that if we ever turned out a blood mare she was sure to pick up the sorriest old mustang on the range for a running mate. Your Rose would be more apt to pick up a husband here than in London for the first two or three years she might be there."

Said Browning: "I say, Jim, did you mean that mustang story to go for an excuse for Miss Rose calling me 'Jack?'"

"O, no!" said Sedgwick, "when she called you Jack, she was just a silly colt that could not discriminate."

"I see," said Browning, "but I say, Jim, you ought to have been here then. By Jove, she might have even fancied you."

"Don't you dare to talk that way," said Sedgwick, "or I will try to cut you out when we see her, unless, as is quite possible, she has already been some happy man's wife for two or three years."

"Jim, I say, stop that!" said Browning. "It will be time to face that infernal possibility when I cannot help it. Bless my soul, but the thought of it makes me sea-sick."

They breakfasted together, and were smoking their after-breakfast cigars--Nevada-like--when the church bells began to ring.

"When did you attend church last, Browning?" asked Sedgwick.

"I have been a good deal remiss in that," was the reply.

"Suppose we go. It will be a novelty, and you will see more friends there than in any other place."

"A good thought, old boy," said Browning, "and we shall have time only to dress."

A few minutes later they emerged from the hotel, and proceeded to the old church that Browning had attended during all his childhood.

Queerly enough, the sermon was on the return of the Prodigal Son. The good clergyman dilated on his theme. He told what a tough citizen the Prodigal Son was in his youth, how he was given to boating and steeple-chasing, and staying out nights and worrying the old father, until finally he ran away. "Photographing you, Jack," whispered Sedgwick.

When he came to the part where the Prodigal ate the husks, Sedgwick whispered again: "He means the hash in that restaurant on the Divide, Jack."

Then the picture of the joy of the father on the return of this son, and the moral which the parable teaches, were graphically given. At last the service was over, and as the congregation filed out there was a general rush for Browning, for the whole congregation recognized him, though the almost beardless boy that went away had returned in the full flush of manhood. He was overwhelmed with greetings and congratulations over his safe return, and as Sedgwick was introduced as Browning's friend the welcomes to him were most cordial, though there was many a glance at the fashionably-cut clothing of the young men.

The people were all in Sunday attire, many of the ladies wearing gay colors. The day was warm and sunny and they lingered on the green, talking joyously, when suddenly a cry of terror arose, and looking, the young men saw a two-year old Hereford bull coming at full speed at the crowd, and with the evident intention of charging direct into it. Every one was paralyzed; that is, all but one. That one was Sedgwick. Near him was a woman who had a long red scarf doubled and flung carelessly over her shoulder. In an instant Sedgwick had thrown off his coat, s.n.a.t.c.hed the scarf from the woman and dashed out of the crowd directly toward the coming terror. He shouted and shook the scarf, and the bull, seeing it, rushed directly for it. As he struck the scarf, like a flash Sedgwick caught the ring in the bull's nose with his left hand, the left horn in his right hand, and twisting the ring and giving a mighty wrench on the horn, both man and bull went p.r.o.ne upon the turf. But the man was above and the bull below, and clinging to ring and horn and with knee on the bull's throat, Sedgwick bent all his might upon the brute's head and held him down.

Browning was at his side in a moment, and at Sedgwick's m.u.f.fled cry to tie his forelegs, Browning seized the scarf, lashed the bull's legs together, and then both men arose.

Securing his coat quickly, Sedgwick seized Browning's arm, and said, "Let us get out of this, old man. You told me this was a bully place, but I did not look for it quite in that form."

"Where did you learn that trick?" asked Browning.

"In Texas," said Sedgwick. "It is a game we play with yearlings there, but we never try it on an old stager, because, you see, if one should fall he would be in the sump, or in a drift where the air would be bad in a minute. That was a big fellow, but he had a ring in his nose, which made me the more sure of him, and then you see there was nothing else to do. I will go to no more churches in England with you without carrying a lariat and revolver."

"It was a good job, Jack," said Browning; "by Jove, it was. I am sorry it happened, but I am glad you did it. I don't believe I could have managed it any better myself."

The feat was the talk of the town, and it grew in size with every repet.i.tion, and in the next day's paper it was magnified beyond all proportions. Fortunately, the printers got both the names of Browning and Sedgwick spelled wrong, which was all the comfort the young men had out of it.

On Monday morning the friends went out in the country and looked over the estate that Browning had been hoping to make money enough to purchase.

Browning explained his plans for improving it, and the address of the owner in London was obtained.

In the evening they took the train for London. The landlord had had a great night and day because of callers on Browning and his friend, and would take nothing of his guests except a five-pound note to hand to the woman from whose shoulder Sedgwick had caught the scarf.

CHAPTER VI.

BONANZAS.

It was in the gray of the morning when they entered the mighty city by the Thames. They sought a hotel, where they breakfasted; then waiting until business men had gone to their work, they called a carriage and drove to the home of Browning's step-father.

It was Browning's turn now to tremble and perspire. "Bless my soul, Jim!"

said he, "no drift on the Comstock was ever half so hot as this, never, by Jove!"

They were admitted and shown to the parlor. Browning asked for Mrs. and Miss Hamlin, and bade the servant say some friends desired to see them.

Who can picture the joy that followed the coming of those ladies into the room! It is better to imagine it.

After an hour had pa.s.sed, and the tears had dried, and the tremblings ceased a little, Browning's sister drew him a little aside and asked him why he did not inquire about some one else.

"Because," said he, "I dare not."

"Well," said the dear girl, "she is due here even now. If you will go into the library I will meet her, tell her mother has a caller, and propose that we go to the library. When we get there I will lose myself for your sake, and, like the famous witches, 'dissolve into thin air.'"

"She is not married?" asked Browning.

"No," replied his sister.

"Heart whole?" Browning queried.

"How should I know?" answered his sister; "but there is the door-bell.

Hurry Jack! This way to the library!"

Rose Jenvie came in. Grace met and greeted her in the hall.

"Why, Grace," said Rose, "you have been crying. What is wrong, dear?"

"Nothing is wrong," said Grace, "nothing at all, and I have not been crying." And all the time the tears were running down her cheeks.

"Why," exclaimed Rose, "what in the world is the matter? What has so upset you this morning?"

"I tell you, nothing," answered Grace. "Mamma has a caller in the parlor; let us go to the library."

Reaching the door, Grace opened it for Rose, and then said, pettishly, "There! I have forgotten a letter I wish to show you; go in, and I will be back directly."

Rose naturally walked in, when Grace closed the door behind her, turned the key noiselessly and fled.