“I hope the choice won’t be forced upon any of us,” said the doctor. “At any rate, I prefer not to speculate upon such a fate as probable, though it may be possible.”
“You’ve got the advantage of us, Doctor. You have no scalp to lose.”
“No, but I set some value by my head, though it may be scalpless.”
“They didn’t take your horse’s scalp, Dr. Spooner?”
“No. It is some advantage to be a horse. This poor beast, miserable as he looks, has twice saved me from capture by the redskins. Haven’t you, Bony?”
“A very appropriate name!” laughed Brush.
“It is short for Bonaparte. Still it is appropriate, as you say. He can get over the ground pretty fast, if there is need of it. And now, my men, what is your destination? Are you going to California?”
“Yes,” answered Peter Brush, “such is our intention.”
“In search of fortune, I presume?”
“Yes, but not wholly,” and Peter Brush told the doctor of the leading object of our young hero, Tom.