They saw two strange figures, clad in Spanish style, with large, napping sombreros on their heads, who unheard, had descended the mountains, and were now close upon them.
"Who are you?" asked Bradley doubtfully.
"Friends," was the reassuring reply. "We'll join your little party if you have no objection. I'd invite you to take a drink if there was any saloon handy. As there isn't, jest help yourself to this," and he drew out a pouch of smoking-tobacco.
"Just what I was wantin'," said Bradley, delighted. "You're welcome, whoever you are."
"Ben, can't you get together some sticks and light the fire? It's coolish."
CHAPTER XXIV. — BEATEN AT HIS OWN GAME.
Bradley was of a social disposition, and even without the gift of tobacco would have been glad of an addition to their small party.
"I'm glad to see you," he said, repeating his welcome. "I wonder I didn't hear you comin'. Have you been long in Californy?"