Various - Golden Days for Boys and Girls, Vol. XIII, Nov. 28, 1891

V >> Various >> Golden Days for Boys and Girls, Vol. XIII, Nov. 28, 1891

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"That is true, I know, for my partner, Missoo--"

"Your partner, Missoo!" cried Bill, his eyes starting in amazement.

"Yes, my partner, Missoo," repeated Harry, wondering what was the
matter.

"They don't happen to call you Gent out here, do they?"

"That's my name."

"Harry," said Bill, actually winking away a tear. "I'm the proudest chap
that ever walked to think that I know you. Will you shake hands?"

Harry blushed as he gave him his hand, knowing that Bill must have heard
the story of the burning mine.

Bill shook his hand as if he had never had such a treat before.

"And you," said he, his eyes shining, "are Gent, that went down that
shaft. Harry, I don't believe there is another boy in the whole United
States would have done a thing like that. Won't Beth be glad you saved
her when I tell her that!"

"Please don't say any more about that," pleaded Harry. "Tell me about
the gold mine."

"Shake hands once more first," said Bill. "Think of having that to tell
Mr. Dewey! Oh, well, I won't say any more! About the gold mine. Oh, yes!
The man, after he had said there were no gold mines, told how some
Easterners had been let in for a salted mine, and how it was called Tiny
Hill Gold Mine even now, when it was as certain as fate that it had
nothing but silver in it. Well, I didn't need to be told that name
twice. I knew it was my mine, and I got the direction and went straight
for it; and there I found my man smoking a cigar in front of the cabin,
with a tough-looking specimen sitting on the door-sill."

"Little Dick," observed Harry.

"Little! Well, I wouldn't want him to get hold of me."

"He did get hold of me," said Harry; and he related his recent adventure
with him.

"Ah!" cried Bill; "now I understand! I followed them after a while, and
I was puzzled to know why Hoyt kept back all the time and let the other
man take the lead. It looked so much like some sort of mischief then
that I was wondering all the while what on earth it could be. But I
never suspected you had anything to do with it. If I'd only known you
and Gent were the same person! I wouldn't have had the courage even to
have thought of that thing, Harry; but if I could, I'd--"

"You said you wouldn't speak of it again, Bill."

"Well, where was I? Oh, yes! I kept well behind Hoyt, and when he sat
down and let the other man go on ahead, there was nothing for me to do
but to sit down, too. So I did, and we waited that way for a good while.
Then Little Dick, as you call him, came back and took Hoyt away with
him, and I could see that he was half-mad about something. I began to
have a hard time after that, for we left the trees and got among the
rocks, and, in fact, I lost them and lost my way, and I don't suppose I
should ever have found it again if I had not seen Little Dick going down
the mountain. I watched where he went, and then took the up road after
Hoyt; and that brought me here, and that's all. But if I never do it
again, Harry, I want to shake hands with you."

Harry shook hands laughingly, for there was something whimsical in Bill
that put him in a laughing mood. He had never supposed Bill had so much
fun in him; and, perhaps, in the old days Bill had not known it, either.
But an honest life, and since then the thought that he was doing good
for the boy who had saved Beth's life, had had a very developing effect
on him.

They talked a great deal more after that, each giving more details about
himself, but Bill insisting on hearing most about Harry, and what he had
done and where he had been, and his interest in Missoo was simply
intense.

"You shall see him, to-night," promised Harry. "We will go down now,
keeping out of sight as much as we can, and I will take you right to his
room. He'll be wondering where I am. He said he'd like to see you."

"See me!" cried Bill, pleasure and surprise about equally divided. "What
does he know about me?"

"Why, I told him how you saved my life, of course."

They walked down, and Harry led Bill to the house where Missoo was lying
in bed. He was much better, but was not able to go about, though he
chafed at the notion of Big Missouri being laid up with "a burnt spot on
his back."

"I was gettin' lonesome, Gent," he said. "Who's yer friend?" and he eyed
Bill over carefully.

"Did you ever hear me speak of Bill Green?" asked Harry.

Missoo lifted himself up on his elbow and looked at Bill.

"Not Bill Green, thet got ye outen thet burnin' mill?" he questioned, to
Bill's extravagant delight to think that the great, the famous Missoo
had actually kept his name in his memory.

"The very same Bill Green," assured Harry.

"Bill, shake!" said Missoo, briefly. And when he had shaken the hand of
the delighted Bill, he held it for a moment, and said to him, "Bill,
when ye saved the life o' thet thar Gent, ye saved my life, too, which
is wuthless, an' ye saved the lives o' twenty men, some o' them with
babbies, 'n some o' them with mothers. Shet up, Gent; I'm talkin'! Ye
saved the life, Bill, of a feller what's sand--emery sand, which is the
best kind--what's sand down to his toes. Bill, I'm proud to take ye by
the hand; 'n I bet ye've got sand yerself."

"So he has, Missoo, as you'll understand, when I tell you his story some
day," replied Harry.

"Why not now?" asked Missoo.

Harry made a sign to Bill, and answered:

"Because I want to talk about other things with him. You won't mind if
we talk before you, will you, Missoo?"

"Mind ye a-talkin'! Thet's music to me, thet is, Gent," said the
admiring giant.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Harry had a two-fold reason for not telling Missoo his adventure at that
time. He had not made up his mind yet as to his proper course, and he
knew that Missoo would become so excited that it would perhaps make him
ill; and he knew also that, if it should become known in the town that
Little Dick and Hoyt had done what they had, their lives would not be
safe for five minutes after they were caught.

He had no wish to be the cause of so pronounced an example of "miners'
justice," and preferred to trust himself to legal law, as soon as he
could have Mr. Harmon to advise with him.

The chances were that, if he were to return east now, Mr. Harmon would
be home by the time he reached there, if he were not already home.

He talked this over with Bill, later, when Missoo was asleep, and Bill
agreed with him, but pointed out the necessity of getting away before
Hoyt should discover that he was alive, lest he should contrive in some
way to play him another trick; but to that Harry said Hoyt must discover
it soon, anyhow.

Missoo was not by any means well, and it was considered desirable by the
doctor that he should remain in bed; but he could spare Harry, and, loth
as the latter was to leave him before he was fully recovered, he felt
that his safety and the interests of his sister, as well as of himself,
demanded his presence east as soon as possible.

He put off speaking to Missoo until Bill had made every preparation for
leaving, which occupied two days; for, to avoid the chance of being seen
by Little Dick, Harry kept close in the house all the time. Moreover, he
had decided to go on horseback, as being safer from the observation of
Hoyt than the stage.

He had not hoped, really, that it could be kept from the two would-be
murderers for a long time that he was still in existence; but he thought
that, by keeping out of sight, he might puzzle them as to his
intentions, and perhaps frighten them away from Buttercup.

On the third day, and when everything was ready for departure at an
hour's notice, Bill suggested that he should run over to the Tiny Hill
and take a look at Hoyt and discover what he could.

Harry opposed the plan as dangerous, but Bill laughed at that notion and
Harry finally agreed to it.

So Bill went over there early in the morning and was back in a very
short time, his eyes telling Harry that something was amiss.

"Gone--both of 'em gone," said Bill. "I was pretty sure of it the minute
I set eyes on the place--looked deserted, you know. But I waited a
little while and then skirmished around, and finally went right up and
knocked at the door. The knocking opened it, and the cabin was empty and
everything that was worth a cent had been taken. The stove was cold, and
I felt certain that they had been gone over two days."

"Then, of course, they know I wasn't killed," replied Harry; "for Dick
would never leave the cabin alone so long if he were coming back at all.
Now what shall we do?"

Well, the end of it was that they could not make up their minds what
would be the wisest thing to do; but Harry told Missoo that he intended
going East soon.

There was evidently a big lump in the miner's throat when he tried to
answer Harry's announcement, and when he did speak it was to beg like a
child that Harry would stay anyhow until he was up out of bed and
walking around.

"It won't be more'n a week, Gent," he said, pleadingly.

In his uncertainty what to do, Harry decided to let his course wait on
Missoo's recovery, hoping that in the meantime something would occur to
help him decide.

He was a good horseman, but Bill had had very little experience in that
way, and so the two went out on their horses every day, generally
accompanied by such of the miners as had the leisure and the inclination
to ride.

This was an always acceptable escort to Harry, for he could not drive
away an uneasy feeling that danger lurked in every lonely place. There
were not many rides in the vicinity of the mines, but the mountain
trails would do better than no roads at all, and the parties used to go
stumbling and straggling over these.

Once Harry dismounted near the cave and ran up to it and looked in; then
he was certain that his escape had been discovered, and it seemed
probable that it had happened on the same day or the next.

The week passed by and Missoo was gaining his strength rapidly and was
sitting up every day. Harry, too, was gaining confidence in the absence
of any sign of danger, and two or three times went out riding with Bill
without anybody else.

One day they started out alone, and Harry talked of soon being able to
start.

"What do you think has become of Hoyt?" asked Bill.

He had asked the same question a great many times, but hoped each time
to get a more satisfying answer. It was a question he could not answer
to his own satisfaction.

"I wish I knew," Harry responded; "but anyhow we must make a start soon.
I wrote to Mr. Harmon that I would be there and he will be expecting me.
Besides, I shan't feel comfortable until that matter about the fire is
settled. That is the only hold Hoyt has on me now, and as soon as that
is gone he will be the one to feel uncomfortable."

"You will have all the money you need out of the mine," said Bill.
"Hello! I thought none of the men were coming out to-day."

He had heard the sound of hoofs behind, and he and Harry turned at the
same moment. They were then on the stage road, the only real road in the
neighborhood.

Harry looked a long time at the party of five coming up behind them at a
trot, but could not make them out.

"They look like strangers to me," he said, uneasily.

"What shall we do?" asked Bill, quite as uneasy as Harry.

"We might put spurs to the horses, but that would only carry us further
away from Buttercup. Don't act as if you were afraid of anything, Bill.
If they are after me, they can catch me; but it isn't likely they will
want you, so, if it comes to that, you make a bolt and never mind me."

"Well, I guess!" answered Bill, indignantly.

"Don't you see you can hurry back to Buttercup and call on the miners.
They will be after me like bloodhounds."

"Hands up there!" came a sudden command from the rear.

"Turn your horse's head the other way, Bill," whispered Harry, "and
throw up your hands. It'll only be an excuse to shoot, if you don't."

They both faced suddenly about and threw up their hands. It was well,
apparently, that they did, for the whole party behind them had their
revolvers leveled.

"That is the one on the gray horse," said a voice, unpleasantly familiar
to Harry.

Arthur Hoyt came from behind the other horseman and pointed at Harry.

"What do you want?" demanded Harry.

"We want you, youngster," said a man who seemed the leader of the party,
"if your name is Henry Wainwright."

"He can't deny it," said Hoyt, hurriedly.

"I don't intend to," answered Harry, who was beginning to understand
this latest move of his enemy, and who had only one object in view, and
that to let Bill have a chance to get away. "My name is Henry
Wainwright. What if it is?"

"I have a warrant for your arrest, on the charge of arson. So, if you
are disposed to be reasonable, you'll come along with us quietly; if
not, I'll clap on the bracelets."

No attention was paid to Bill, who, finding himself unmolested, had let
his horse wander by the party, cropping the leaves from the bushes until
he was a few yards away, when he caught up the reins and was off like a
flash.

Some of the party turned and fired a few shots in the air, but did not
pursue until they had waited for an order from their chief.

"He'll alarm the town, and the men will pour out after us," Hoyt cried.

"Let him," said the sheriff, contemptuously. "Alarm the town! You must
think they value boys at a high rate up here, mister. I thought, from
the way you talked, that a regiment wouldn't be too many. Why, he's a
lamb!" and the sheriff laughed, and so did his deputies.

Hoyt gnawed his lip and glanced ominously at Harry, as if he had a mind
to shoot him where he stood.

"I tell you," said Hoyt, "that the whole town will be after us."

"Well, I can't help it," replied the sheriff. "If the whole county
comes, they can't have my two-thousand-dollar prisoner. I think they
know me even in Buttercup, mister."

Hoyt was powerless to do anything, but Harry was certain that he saw a
desperate purpose written on his face, and he determined to be on his
guard if the men did come after him.

Bill meanwhile was flying back over the five miles that lay between him
and Buttercup with all the speed he could obtain from his horse.

He rode into the street at a full gallop, his hat lost and his hair
flying, and did not stop until he was at the door of the house where
Missoo lived.

He was known by this time as one of Harry's friends, and it was
generally known that the two went riding together. To see him coming
back in such a fashion was sufficient to make them all wonder, and in
the first fear that Harry had met with an accident, there was a rush
after Bill all adown the street.

"What's the matter?" "Where's Gent?" "Is he hurt?" were some of the most
prominent of the questions.

"Where's Missoo?" asked Bill, in a loud voice.

"Here he is," was the answer from the window of the house. "Whar's
Gent?"

"They're taking him to Virginia City on a charge of arson, Missoo.
Hoyt's there!"

Missoo understood in a moment, and lifted his hand to still the roar of
voices that rose on the announcement made by Bill. Silence came at once.
They all knew Missoo would waste no words then.

"I know all about it, boys," he said. "Gent mustn't go ter Virginny
City, nohow. Bill, how many on 'em?"

"Five."

"Ten men ter go with me after Gent," continued Missoo.

And Bill wondered at the stern, quiet way of the man. Every man there
was eager to go, and Missoo saw it.

"All right, boys! Ev'ry man thet kin git a horse let him go. And a horse
fer me. No time ter spare. Quick!"

In fifteen minutes a dozen of the best mounted, led by Missoo, who
should not have been out of his room, rode out of the town in the midst
of the wildest excitement. Fully fifty men straggled behind as best they
could, and perhaps half as many more followed on foot.

"We'll bring him back, boys, if we have ter go ter Virginny City an'
razee the town," said Missoo.

And the answer was a yell that made Bill sure that Missoo meant what he
said and was taken at his word by his followers.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

A PRINCE OF CEYLON.

Ceylon is so far away, and the Ceylonese so little known to civilized
people, that we are apt to imagine them as half-clad barbarians. But
they have adopted many modern customs which curiously intermingle with
their native habits. A recent traveler thus describes a native prince:

"He wore black trowsers and a coat, a white waistcoat and a heavy, round
black cap. On his coat, at the sleeves as well as down the front, and on
his waistcoat, were numerous buttons, each one of gold, with a gleaming
diamond for a centre. Round his waist was a heavy gold girdle of massive
links, with two loops in front which went to form a watch-chain, long
enough and strong enough for his highness to hang himself with. The
third and fourth fingers of each hand were loaded with rings, set with
brilliants and precious stones. In the waistcoat pocket the top of a
cigarette case was showing, and, when he pulled it out for a smoke,
there was a big cluster of brilliants in the centre of the concave side.
His walking-stick had a gold cross-head, and on the other side his
initials were set with diamonds and rubies."

STORIES OF SCHOOL LIFE.

An old college man recalls two characteristic anecdotes about a
well-known Harvard professor, Sophocles, or "Sophy," as he was generally
called. He was an excellent teacher, but he had his favorites, whom he
would never allow to fail in recitation. One day the question under
discussion was the dark color of the water of a certain river. "Why was
the water dark?" said Sophocles. One pupil ventured, "Because it was so
deep." "That is not right. The next." "Because of the color of the mud;"
and so on, until he came to a favorite, when the question took this
form: "The reason is not known why the water was black, is it?" "No,
sir!" came the natural answer. "That is correct," from Sophocles, with
one of his blandest smiles. Another day a student was playing chess in
recitation-time, feeling certain that his name would not be called, as
the professor had a fixed habit of calling up the students in regular
order, and this student was at the tail of the class. But Sophocles saw
what was going on, out of the corner of his eye, and said, suddenly,
"Mr. Kew, what do you say to this question?" Mr. Kew at once arose and
promptly replied, "It is imperfect, because it is in the indefinite
tense," an answer which, in nine cases in ten, would have been correct.
"Not at all, sir," said Professor Sophocles, calmly, "it is an island in
the Aegean Sea!"

Professor Vierecke (four cornered) was connected with a celebrated
German university in a walled town, during war times. He was very severe
in his teaching methods, and the students determined to get even with
him. So three of them went outside the town one day, when they knew he
had gone into the country, and disguised themselves with white wigs and
spectacles so as to look exactly like him. Toward night they started to
return, about half an hour apart. At the gate of the town every one had
to give his name to the sentinel stationed there. The first student to
arrive gave his name as Einecke (one cornered); the second, half an hour
afterward, as Zweiecke (two cornered); the third as Dreicke (three
cornered). By this time the sentinel began to be very suspicious over
the fact that these elderly men, looking exactly alike, but with names
increasing in numerical value, should have passed into the city. There
must, he thought, be some plot hatching, and just as he had resolved to
report the affair to his superior officer a fourth old man, with white
hair and spectacles, came up to the gate. "Your name, sir?" asked the
sentinel. "Vierecke." "Ha!" cried the sentinel. "I arrest you as a spy!"
The professor vainly protested, told where he lived and his occupation,
but the circumstances were so suspicious that he was taken to prison,
where he was kept all night and part of the next day, to the intense
delight of the persecuted students.

A little six-years-old boy, just learning to spell words of three or
four letters, was poring over a book at home, which contained words much
beyond his capacity. After trying in vain to make them out, he looked up
and said, "Mamma, if I had glasses, I think I could read all these
words." His mother laughed and responded, "Only old folks use glasses."
The little fellow's face became very serious, and then he asked,
anxiously, "Why, mamma, do you think I'm too new?"

It is somewhat remarkable that schoolboys, who are always playing smart
tricks, do not quit trying, since they are almost invariably found out;
and this is not astonishing, since all teachers have been students and
cannot have wholly forgotten the tricks they tried on. In a certain Ohio
academy it was announced that a new teacher of mathematics was coming
the next day, and the boys prepared to initiate him. They went to a
narrow lane, up which he would probably come, and rigged up a
complicated apparatus to trip him up and shower him with flour. While
thus engaged, a young, dandified fellow came along and surprised them.
He was a stranger, and they imagined he came from a more advanced
college near by, which impression was heightened when he volunteered his
services and suggested many improvements in the "trap." When completed,
the boys and their new friend moved away some distance, to await the
result of the "initiation." Two hours passed in uncomfortable silence,
and then one of the leaders said, "I don't believe he'll come to-night."
"Oh, yes," said the stranger, pleasantly; "the truth is, he _has_ come."
"What!" cried the boys. "In fact," continued the young man, "I am
Professor Cheltenham, and I hope our relations will continue to be
agreeable. I am sorry to have disappointed you by coming by an earlier
train; but I am glad, because it has made us acquainted in a very
effective way!" You may imagine that the boys were amazed, and you will
believe that they tried no more tricks on the professor of mathematics.

* * * * *

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MEXICO AND THE MEXICANS.

by W.B. HOLDEN.

Americans know but little of the great country that lies to the south of
us. They would consider it an evidence of ignorance if a Mexican had
never heard the name of one of the United States, yet not one American
in a hundred can name five of the twenty-seven States, which, with two
territories and a federal district, make up the great republic of
Mexico. As to size, an equal ignorance prevails. The average person
thinks that Mexico is about as large as Pennsylvania, and is surprised
to hear that it has one-fifth the area of the United States, including
Alaska.

Here are some figures which may serve to show its size. It is six times
as large as Great Britain, more than three times as large as Germany,
and you could lose three countries as big as France inside it. Across
the top of it, where, like a great horn, it is fastened to the United
States, it is as long as Topeka is distant from New York city, and a
line drawn from the root of the horn at California, diagonally across it
to its tip at Guatemala, would be as long as the distance from New York
to Denver. This horn is about 150 miles wide at the bottom, or tip, and
1550 miles wide at its beginning, where it joins on to us. In its curve
it embraces the Gulf of Mexico, and the Pacific Ocean washes its other
side.

It is true that Mexico is not thickly settled, the total population
being less than 12,000,000; but it has one city--the capital--containing
300,000, one of 100,000, and a number of cities of 25,000 inhabitants,
of which the ordinary American never heard the names. But Mexico has an
incomparable climate, and the land contains riches in minerals, precious
stones and agricultural resources, unsurpassed by any other country.

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