“Gentlemen,” he said, “business is business, and that as well as the need of recreation has brought me out here. If you feel inclined to part with your dust I will make you as favorable an offer as any one in San Francisco, and give you drafts in payment.”
The three partners consulted, and Peter Brush acted as spokesman, and promptly accepted their guest’s offer.
“Nothing will suit us better,” he said. “We are sure you will deal honorably with us.”
“Even if such were not my custom,” said Percival, “I would do so for the sake of your young associate, who has rendered me so important a service. I confess my surprise at seeing so young a boy engaged in this business. Is he related to either of you?”
This drew out Tom’s story. It was told partly by Mr. Brush, partly by our young hero himself.
Robert Percival listened from the first with interest. But as the story proceeded, and reached the point where our hero’s father was robbed and left for dead near the very spot where they were conversing, his interest increased, and was apparently mingled with surprise. When the tale was told he ejaculated:
“This is a most extraordinary occurrence.”
“Not so extraordinary,” said Brush. “In the early days of California emigration, robbery and murder could not have been so very uncommon.”
“But you don’t understand me, my friend. It is extraordinary that this story should be told to me.”
“Why?” asked Brush and Tom, and the doctor looked equally inquisitive.