CHAPTER XXIII. A FRIENDLY HUNTER.
The boys walked up to the sink and took a survey of it. It contained two tin basins. Several pieces of hard soap were deposited upon a little shelf over it, and the towels looked as though they had done service for weeks.
"I have been used to better things than these," said Frank, who could hardly bring himself to touch one of the dingy basins.
"So have I," answered Leon; "but what's the good of growling? When you get out to the mountains you'll have to wash your hands and face in a brook, and dry them upon a piece of buckskin. We've got to rough it—that's what we came out here for—and we might as well begin now as a month later. We'll get used to it by the time we are settled as hunters."
Frank told himself, very emphatically, that he never would be settled as a hunter. He was heartily tired of roughing it already and would have been glad to start for home long ago; but he knew by the way his cousin talked and acted that it would be of no use to propose such a thing; so, after a good deal of thinking, he had determined upon a course of action that was mean and cowardly in the extreme. He only waited for a favorable opportunity to carry his plans into execution.
After washing their hands and faces, and drying them upon the cleanest part of the long-used towels, the boys looked around until they found a couple of chairs that had just been vacated, and sat down to listen to the conversation of the miners, who had by this time drawn away from the bar, and were now seated around the stove, talking over their experience.
They talked principally about gold-hunting, but presently one of them launched out into a narrative that held his listeners spellbound.
It was about a fight he and his comrades had with a war party of Cheyennes who drove them away from their diggings.
This set the others going on the same subject, and from that hour until supper was announced the boys listened to stories of adventure and hair-breadth escapes from wild animals and Indians that were enough to frighten anyone.
For the first time since leaving home, Leon told himself that perhaps he had mistaken his calling.
If tall, broad-shouldered, powerful-looking men like these could be driven about like sheep by the wild inhabitants of the mountains and plains, what could a boy like himself do in combat with them?
As for Frank, the last particle of his courage oozed out at the ends of his fingers, and he was all the more determined to carry out the plans he had already formed.
He found that he had entertained very erroneous opinions regarding frontier life.
The heroes of his favorite books could not only whip a dozen Indians very easily, and come off without a scratch, but they could go alone into a hostile camp and rescue a "partner" who had been captured by them.
Here were men, however—live men, too—who were willing to acknowledge that they had been whipped, that they had seen quite enough of savage life, and that they would be glad to reach home, where they could live in peace.
"Leon," said Frank suddenly, "don't you think you had better give me half the money you've got left? You pay all the bills, and that looks as though I was sponging on you."
"Never mind that," was the reply. "It's all in the family."
"But what if somebody should go through you?" urged Frank. "I suppose there are pickpockets here, as well as in the cities. If you lost your share, I'd have mine left to fall back on."
"But I don't intend that anybody shall go through me," answered Leon. "I'll take good care of the money, and pay your bills and mine, too."
"You had better keep close watch over it," said Frank to himself, "for, if I once get my hands on it, I'll take enough of it to see me safely back to Boston, I bet you. Leon," he added, almost desperately, "I am tired of this! Let's go back before it's too late. We must go some time."
"Ah, ha!" exclaimed his cousin. "That's the reason you want half the money, is it? Well, you can't have it! It is all very well for you to talk about going home, for you will go straight to Boston, and none of your friends there will ever know that you ran away—your folks, of course, won't say anything about it. But if I go home, I must go among those who know everything. No, sir! I'll never see Eaton again until I have made a name for myself!"
Frank, seeing that he had made a mistake, tried to turn the matter off with a laugh, and hastened to assure his cousin that if he was still determined to go through, he (Frank) would stand by him through thick and thin.
He hoped in this way to throw Leon off his guard, so that the latter would relax his vigilance and give him a chance to steal what was left of the six hundred dollars—for that was what he had determined to do.
We may add that he finally succeeded in his object, and came very near getting himself into a desperate scrape by it.
When supper was announced, the boys followed the crowd into an adjoining room, and took the seats that were pointed out to them by their host.
It was not just such an apartment as that in which they had been accustomed to take their meals at home. It was almost as dingy as the bar. The rough tables were not very clean, and the dishes and viands were scattered about without the least regard to order.
They looked, Leon told himself, as though the waiter had stood off and thrown them at the table, and left them wherever they landed. But there was plenty to eat, and the boys, being very hungry, made a hearty supper.
When they had satisfied their appetites, they went back to the bar-room and sat down on one of the benches, while the gold-hunters smoked their pipes and told stories of life in the mines.
When eight o'clock came, Leon walked up to the bar and asked the landlord to show him and his cousin to their room.
In compliance with the request the man lighted a tallow candle, and, leading the boys up a narrow, winding stairway, ushered them into the most cheerless bedroom they had ever seen.
There was no carpet on the floor, and there were no chairs on which to deposit their clothing. In fact, the room contained nothing except a couple of beds, which looked as though the person who made them up must have been in a very great hurry.
"You two tumble into this one," said the landlord, placing the candle on the floor and nodding his head toward one of the beds. "You needn't mind locking your door, 'cause there's another fellow belongs up here."
"Who is he?" asked Frank.
"He's a hunter, and a mighty good one, too, I reckon, for he used to be post-hunter at Fort Laramie."
"Is he all right?"
"Is he?" exclaimed the landlord. "He's the best fellow in the world; good-natured (he hasn't had but three fights since he's been here), free-hearted, and spends his money like water. He killed eight hundred buffalo this season, and he's going back to kill some more. You needn't mind putting out your candle, 'cause he'll be up directly. He always goes to bed early since he and his money quit. Good-night!"
"That's just the man we want to see," exclaimed Leon, when the landlord had left the room. "He can tell us everything we want to know, and if he will let us, we can't do better than go with him."
The boys had hardly got into bed (Leon took the precaution to place his trousers, which contained the money, under his pillow) when a heavy step sounded in the hall, the door opened, and the third occupant of the room stalked in.
He was roughly dressed, and carried a knife and revolver in his belt.
The runaways, who looked at him with great interest, could not see much of his face, for the lower part of it was concealed by thick, bushy whiskers, which looked as though they had never been combed, and his slouch hat was drawn low over his forehead. There was something forbidding about him, but the boys could not have told what it was.
"Hallo, pilgrims!" said he, as he placed his hands on his hips and looked down at the runaways. "Are you the kids who are going out on the plains!"
"Yes, sir," answered Leon.
"Come from the States, I reckon, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir; and we're looking for somebody who can tell us just what we ought to do. We're going out to the mountains to hunt and trap. Do you think we can make a living at it?"
"Finest business in the world!" was the encouraging reply. "I know lots of fellows who are getting rich at it. It's a trifle rough sometimes if you get into the Injuns' hunting-grounds, but all you've got to do is to grab your spelter and skip out."
"I understand that you used to be post-hunter at Fort Laramie," said Frank.
"Yes; and I got kicked out 'cause me and the colonel couldn't hitch hosses," replied the man cheerfully.
If he had said that he had been detected in an attempt to rob the sutler's drawer, and had been obliged to leave the neighborhood of the fort in order to escape arrest, he would have been nearer the truth.
"Well, we are green——" began Leon.
"Yes; I knowed you were tenderfeet," interrupted the hunter.
"And we want to find somebody of experience who will take us in charge and manage matters for us," added Leon. "We don't know what kind of an outfit we want, or where to go to find good hunting-grounds."
"Have you got any money?"
"Plenty of it," answered Leon readily, "more than enough to foot all our—— O Frank, what do you mean?" he added, changing his tone very suddenly, as his cousin's elbow was brought against his side with considerable force.
Frank made no reply, and the hunter presently continued:
"You don't want to let anybody coax you into spending much of it for an outfit in this place, 'cause things is so dear. All you want is a hoss, saddle and bridle, and a pair of saddle-bags. In the saddle-bags you can carry a little bacon, corn-meal, salt, pepper, coffee, and sugar, too, if you want it—as I reckon you do, being tenderfeet. Anything else you want to eat you can shoot as you go along."
"When do you start for the fort?"
"To-morrow."
"Now, why won't you let us go with you? We've got money, and——"
Again Frank's elbow came in vigorous contact with his cousin's ribs.
Then it began to creep through Leon's head that perhaps he was saying too much about his wealth; so he resolved to take the hints Frank had given him, and drop the subject.
"I'll take care of you," answered the hunter. "I was a tenderfoot myself once, and would have been glad to have somebody do as much for me."
Leon drew a long breath, and told himself that he had done a very sensible thing when he turned into the Prairie Hotel.
Here was a man who was an experienced hunter, who was recommended by the landlord as being the best fellow in the world, who knew just what they wanted, and would assist in fitting them out for the plains.
Things could not have worked more to his liking.
The hunter had by this time extinguished the light and got into bed; but he did not seem at all inclined to sleep.
He talked incessantly for three hours, and kept the boys interested in what he had to say regarding a hunter and trapper's life.
During the progress of the conversation, the boys learned that their friend's name was Eben Webster; that he had left all his outfit, except his horse, at Laramie; that he had come down to St. Joe to rest, after a hard season's work on the plains, and that, having seen enough of civilization for the present, he was going to start back on the following morning.
He said he would pick out some saddle-horses for the boys, show them the way to the fort, where he would secure the rest of their outfit for them, and then he would lead them to the mountains, where they would spend the rest of the winter together in hunting and trapping.
They were sure to have the best of luck, for he knew right where to go to find plenty of game; and if he didn't make good hunters of them before spring, so that they could start on their own hook, he would give them all the furs he caught.
Leon was highly excited over the prospect, and it was a long time after the conversation ceased before he fell asleep.