HAD they not considered themselves so entirely alone in a vast wilderness, the ears of Shanty Madge and Cole of Spyglass Mountain long since would have been acute to the low rumble of California Bill’s heavy six-mule wagon. But the past few minutes had been tense ones with these two, and they had heard no sound until the little hoofs of Bill’s mules left a sandy stretch in the road and clicked upon the rocks.
Madge and Joshua stood still and listened, and now all of the sounds that are a part of a heavily laden mountain wagon on the move were distinguishable—the click of hoofs, the grumble of the shifting load, the crunch of the six-inch-tired wheels, the creak of leather, the jingle of harness hardware. And soon a great bulk hove in sight, growing mysteriously out of the night like a huge shadowy leviathan climbing up out of the sea.
There came a hail. California Bill had glimpsed the twinkle of the campers’ fire.
“By golly, it’s California Bill!” Joshua exclaimed. “I didn’t know he was behind me. I’ll poke up the fire and get him something to eat while he’s ’tending to his skates.”
Then he lifted his voice in welcome.
California Bill dexterously swung his straining team out of the ruts in the road, and, with the cargo swaying perilously from side to side like a top-heavy tug in a pyramidal sea, he drew up beside Joshua’s load of lumber, where the six mules stopped without command and fluttered their pink nostrils in a “blow.”
“Hello, there, Cole of Spyglass Mountain!” came the cheery greeting from the top of the load. “An’ I’m an ornery beef critter if Shanty Madge ain’t here, too! Say, Tony, I learned a new word at Spur to-day. What’s one o’ these here morons they’re talkin’ about these days? Fella at Spur called me one, an’ I didn’t know whether to slap ’im on the wrist or not—an’ that’s what ye might call an embarrassin’ situation.”
Joshua laughed. “You’re anything but a moron, Bill, so you should have slapped him. But get off and feed and water your stock while I throw some ham and eggs in the pan for you. We’ll talk about morons later.”
“Is it awful bad to be one, Tony?” Bill chuckled as he clambered down. “I thought this bird thought I was some kind of a Filipino. I didn’t want to be that, either, but I didn’t want to show my ignorance. Say, why didn’t ye wait for me, Tony?”
“I didn’t know you were in, or I would.”