Jack nodded his head. "Partly that, partly to earn money at the forge. I've done a course of smith's work, and am fairly handy."
An exclamation of pleasure escaped Tom promptly.
"Do yer want a job?" he asked swiftly. "'Cos I've one ter offer."
To do Jack full justice, he hesitated to accept the post, and felt troubled. For common sense told him that the place was offered because of what he had done. It was, in a measure, a reward for his services. But there was another aspect of the matter. When he had accepted Amos's offer it was at a moment when he was sorely pressed, and when, because of his haste, he had little time to consider other matters. But Jack was honest to the core, and he had made up his mind to work for himself at his trade rather than to accept a post and leave his employer ignorant of his past history. And here he was face to face with the dilemma. He must either refuse what might turn out to be just the thing for him, or he must declare himself and hold nothing back.
"Yer ain't got no cause to fret about the arm," said Tom, noticing his hesitation, "'cos we've a long march before us. It'll be three months before we reach Nevada, and another before we hit upon a spot at which ter dig. Long before then ye'll be fit again, and it's when we're at the diggin's that ye'll come in handy. We've been lookin' out fer a smith, and, yer see, we're off to Californy like you, so the thing seems kinder ter fit."
"It isn't that," exclaimed Jack quickly. "I want to say something. You don't know anything about me. I might be anything at all."
"Now, look ye here," cried Tom hotly, "don't yer jest take me fer a fool. No one out here knows what his mates are, nor cares either. 'Tain't no business of no one's. Reckon out thar at the diggin's and on the plains yer kin meet men as was dukes in Europe, others that's thieves, and crowds that has as shady a history as yer could well think of. That ain't no one's concern. But you!—with that honest face and frank look—don't yer try ter get telling me that you've got a history marked up against yer. Yer may have met trouble, but I reckon it come from someone else's fault; or it was a monkey trick that any lad'll get up to. Don't tell me. I've been out these ways boy and man, and I ain't easily took in."
"Listen a moment," said Jack quietly. "I am an escaped prisoner, under trial quite recently for burglary, and under suspicion of having killed a man."
If our hero expected Tom to give vent to a whistle of astonishment, and to make some sort of demonstration, he was disappointed. Tom sat down coolly, pulled out a cigar, and bit the end off.
"Jest you fire ahead with the yarn, young 'un," he said, between the puffs, as he held a match to the weed. "Tell me jest as much as yer like, and jest as little. I ain't no policeman, I'm a plain man; and where I've worked, though thar's been a sheriff, he's mostly lived a hundred or more miles away. Consequence is, we've jedged matters fer ourselves. Reckon we don't make many mistakes, neither. If a man's a horse thief or a train robber, or something of that sort, he has a fair show to clear himself. Ef he can't, he's shot. What's the row been about?"