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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
 “If I dreamed that I did not dream that I left these curtains all
down and the windows closed, did I?” Julian asked himself in deep
perplexity. “Somebody has certainly been in here while I was asleep,
and he didn’t come in through the door either. I’ve spent my last
night in this house. I didn’t hear any of those frightful sounds
Sanders heard the night he slept here, but I’ve seen enough. If I
ever get outside these walls I’ll not come back. What’s this?”
After hastily throwing on his clothes Julian stepped to the table
to help himself to a glass of water from the pitcher that some
thoughtful hand had placed there, when his eyes fell upon a paper,
folded in the form of a letter, and addressed to himself. With eager
haste he opened it, and after some trouble, for the spelling was
defective and the writing almost illegible, he deciphered the
following:
“Have no fear. Watchful friends are near you, and no harm shall
come to you. Reginald Mortimer is your uncle. Treat him as such.”
Julian read these mysterious words over and over again, and
finally carried the paper to the window and examined it on all sides,
in the hope of finding something more—something to tell him who
these watchful friends were, and where the missive came from.
Being disappointed in these hopes he put the letter carefully away in
his pocket and resumed his toilet. He was a long time about it, for
he frequently stopped and stood at the window gazing out at the
mountains on the other side of the valley, or walked up and down
the room with his eyes fastened on the carpet. His mind was busy all
the while, and by the time he was ready to leave the room he had
thought over his situation and determined upon a plan of action.
Just then the little clock on the mantel struck the hour of 10.
“I am getting fashionable,” said Julian, who, remembering how
carefully Richard Mortimer was always dressed, and believing that
Uncle Reginald, as he had determined to call him, might be equally
particular, stopped to take another look at himself in the mirror
before quitting the room.
It was a very handsome face and figure that the polished surface
of the glass reflected. A finely embroidered shirt with wide collar and
neck-tie, a closely fitting jacket of dark-blue cloth, black velvet
trousers, brown cloth leggings with green fringe, light shoes, and a
long crimson sash worn about the waist, completed an attire that set
off his slender, well-knit frame to the very best advantage. One could
scarcely recognize in him the half-starved ragamuffin whose daily
duty it had been to keep Mrs. Bowles supplied with back-logs and
fore-sticks.
Having satisfied himself that he was presentable, Julian undid the
numerous fastenings of the door, smiling the while to think how
inefficient they had proved to keep out the intruders of whom he
stood so much in fear, and was about to pass out into the hall when
the sound of voices reached his ears. He paused and listened, his
attention being attracted by the mention of the name of one in
whom he was now more than ever interested.
“Wal, I don’t reckon we could help it, could we?” growled a voice
which the boy knew belonged to the trapper Sanders. “Me an’ my
pardner ain’t the men to let $5,000 slip through our fingers without
doin’ our level best to hang onto it, be sure?”
“A couple of blockheads, I say!” replied the voice of Reginald
Mortimer, in angry, excited tones. “Two desperadoes like you and
Tom to allow a single man like Silas Roper to get the better of you.
Go and hide yourself. How did it happen?”
“Why we was a bringin’ him down here this mornin’ on hossback,
me and Tom was,” replied Sanders, “an’ the first thing we knowed he
slipped his hands out o’ his bonds, which we thought we had made
hard an’ fast, an’ afore we could say ‘Gen’ral Jackson’ with our
mouths open, he jerked Tom’s gun out o’ his hands, knocked him
from his saddle as clean as a whistle, an’ sent the ball into me.”
“Hurrah for Silas?” thought Julian, gleefully. “He has escaped.
Now, if there is any way in which he can assist me he will not fail to
do it.”
“He was out o’ sight an’ hearin’ afore we could raise a finger to
stop him,” continued Sanders. “I guess my broken arm an’ Tom’s
bloody head is proof enough of what I say, hain’t it? We couldn’t
help it.”
 “Perhaps you did the best you could,” replied Reginald Mortimer
in a milder tone. “That Silas Roper is a match for any two men in the
mountains. Come into this room and let Pedro dress your wounds.”
“Nary time,” said Sanders emphatically. “I’ve had jest the wust
luck in the world ever since I had anything to do with you an’ your
house, an’ now I’m goin’ to cut you. I came here to tell you that, an’
I ain’t never comin’ nigh you again. Let us out o’ here.”
“You will come whenever I choose to send for you,” said Mr.
Mortimer fiercely.
“Oh, if it comes to that cap’n, in course we will,” replied Sanders,
dropping his angry, confident tone very suddenly. “We’re bound to
obey orders, but don’t ask nary one of us to come here agin. We’d a
heap sooner you’d send us out to steal hosses and rob miners.”
“Silence!” said Mr. Mortimer in a hoarse whisper. “Do you not
know that the very walls in this house have ears? You must capture
Silas Roper; and I will give you the money I promised you whenever
you deliver him into my hands. He is about here, and he will remain
in the vicinity as long as I hold fast to this stool-pigeon.”
Uncle Reginald and the trappers passed through the door into the
yard, and Julian strolled along the hall, and not knowing where else
to go, entered the reception-room. While he was walking about with
his hands in his pocket, he was thinking over some portions of the
conversation to which he had just listened.
“Captain?” he repeated. “What is Uncle Reginald captain of?
Steal horses and rob miners! Silas told me that the mountains were
full of men engaged in that kind of business, and I wonder if this
new relative of mine is in any way connected with them! He must
be; and he must be their leader, too, for Sanders acknowledged that
he was bound to obey his orders. Good gracious! What sort of a
place have I got into, anyhow?”
While Julian, appalled by this new discovery he had made, was
pacing restlessly up and down the floor, Uncle Reginald hurried in.
The scowl on his forehead indicated that he was in a bad humor
about something, but it cleared away instantly when he discovered
Julian, and advancing with outstretched hand he greeted him in the
most cordial manner.
“I hope you rested well after the fatigues and excitements of
yesterday,” said he with a friendly smile. “You look as if you had.
Breakfast is waiting, and while we are discussing it we will have a
social chat.”
The boy, making some satisfactory reply, returned his uncle’s
smile and the hearty pressure of his hand, and accompanied him
toward the breakfast-room, which was located at the farther end of
the hall. He glanced over the well-filled table as he took the chair
pointed out to him, and told himself that if this breakfast was a fair
sample of Uncle Reginald’s style of living he would never go hungry
while he remained under his roof. Corn bread, salt meat and
buttermilk did not constitute the substantial part of the repast as
they invariably did in the cabin of Jack Bowles. There were juicy
venison steaks, hot muffins, wheat bread, eggs, boiled and fried,
toast and potatoes in abundance, and also coffee and chocolate,
which Pedro, who waited upon the table, drew from a silver urn
which stood on the sideboard. More than that, the cloth was
spotless, the dishes clean and white and the table was altogether so
nicely arranged, and looked so inviting, that Julian grew hungry the
moment his eyes rested upon it.
When Pedro had supplied the wants of his master and his guests,
he retired, and the two were left alone.
“Well, Julian,” said Uncle Reginald in a cheery voice, “do you feel
inclined for a gallop on a swift horse this morning? I have some
business that will occupy my attention until dinner, and if you in the
meantime wish to amuse yourself in that way, there is a very fine
filly in the stable which I purchased expressly for you, and which I
hope will supply the place of the horse you lost last night.”
“You must have been expecting me,” said the boy.
“Certainly. I have been looking for you every day for the last two
months; and as this introduces the subject which I know you are
impatient to talk about, I will now make the explanation I promised
you. In the first place, do you know that last night you slept in your
old home for the first time in eight years? You were born in this
house, and every thing in and about it—money, horses, cattle and
gold diggings—will come into your undisputed possession the
moment you are twenty-one years old. It is a fact. You are by no
means the pauper you have always supposed yourself to be.”
Julian dropped his knife and fork, and settling back in his chair
looked the astonishment he could not express in words. He gazed
earnestly at his uncle, and then ran his eyes around the room as if
he were trying to make an estimate of the value of his possessions
from the few articles he saw about him.
“It is the truth, every word of it,” repeated Reginald Mortimer. “It
is all yours, and it is a property worth having, I assure you. Your
father, who was my brother, is dead, and so is your brother
Frederick. I am your guardian, and stand ready to surrender your
patrimony to you whenever you are competent to take charge of it. I
assumed control of your father’s affairs immediately after his death.
At that time you were eight years old and your brother nine. Fred
died, and shortly afterward you were stolen away by some one,
who, as I this morning learned from Sanders, who told me all about
it, took you off to Missouri and left you there with one Jack Bowles.
For eight years I made every effort to find you, and I have at last
succeeded. I do not intend that you shall be separated from me any
more.”
“Well,” said Julian, when his uncle paused.
“Well, that’s all.”
“All!” echoed the boy. “Am I to learn no more of my history than
this brief outline? Do you not know who it was who stole me away?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Or what he stole me away for?”
“Why, of course your property had something to do with it, but
just what I can’t tell.”
Julian, who had settled into an easy position in his arm-chair with
the expectation of hearing something exciting about himself,
straightened up, and with an expression of great disappointment on
his face, resumed his toast and coffee. He wanted to hear more, and
he was satisfied from his uncle’s manner that he could tell him more
if he felt so inclined; but it was plain that he did not, for his next
words related to another subject.
“I hope you are now convinced that the fears to which you last
night gave way were entirely groundless,” said Mr. Mortimer. “I shall
endeavor by every means in my power to make your life here a
pleasant one. I have been very lonely and I want you to cheer me. I
want you to feel that you are one of the family, that you have a right
to be here, and that you are at liberty to go and come whenever it
suits your fancy. You shall have the best horse in the stable, a pack
of hounds, a servant to wait on you, and live like a gentleman. There
is a fort about two miles distant. Some of the officers have their
families with them, and among them are several boys about your
own age. Whenever you want company, bring them up here. They
will find enough to interest them.”
“Perhaps they would also find some things they would not care to
see,” said Julian, thinking of his recent adventure with the emigrant.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, some of those strange people who go about of nights
making such unearthly noises.”
“That sounds just like Sanders,” exclaimed Uncle Reginald
impatiently. “Julian, I hope you are a boy of too much good sense to
pay the least attention to any thing that low, ignorant fellow may say
to you. There isn’t a word of truth in it.”
“Nor about the secret passage-ways that run all through the
house?”
“Not a particle. It is all moonshine.”
“Or about the old man who lives in the cellar?”
“All the veriest nonsense in the world.”
“Or about your missing things?”
“Why, as to that, I have missed some things, that’s a fact, but I
know where they went. Pedro took them. He is a great rascal.”
“Why do you not discharge him if he is a thief?”
 “Because servants are not so easily procured in this wilderness.
More than that, he is a valuable fellow in spite of his faults—
understands all my ways, and knows just how I want every thing
done. You will stay with me?”
“Certainly, sir. I have not seen so much of the comforts of a
home that I can afford to throw them away as soon as they are
offered to me. Beside, I want to see the bottom of this mystery.”
“What mystery? Well, perhaps it does seem a little strange that I,
a man whom you never remember to have seen before, should claim
you as a nephew, and tell you that I hold in my hands a valuable
property which is all your own, but it is nevertheless true.”
“And there are other things that seem strange to me,” continued
Julian. “One of them is that you can live here unmolested, as you
evidently do, while peaceable emigrants are butchered at your very
doors.”
“That is also easily explained. In the first place, that wagon train
was quite a lengthy step from my door when it was attacked—about
forty miles. In the next, there is a fort and a regiment of soldiers
almost within call of me. I have twenty-five herdsmen in the valley,
and at the very first sign of a war-party they would come flocking
into the house, which could withstand the assault of all the Indians
on the plains. Now, if you have finished your breakfast, and are
ready for your ride, I will show you your horse.”
If Julian had given utterance to the thoughts that were passing
through his mind, he would have told his uncle that he was not quite
ready for his ride. There were other questions that he would like to
have had answered. He wanted to know what sort of an organisation
it was of which his uncle was captain; why he was so much
interested in Silas Roper that he was willing to give $5,000 for his
apprehension; if he knew that his cousin, Richard Mortimer, instead
of being at Fort Stoughton hunting buffaloes, was prowling about
somewhere in the immediate neighborhood, and that he had twice
visited the rancho the night before. He wanted to know which of the
two men who claimed to be his guardian was so in reality; how
Uncle Reginald had found out that he was hidden in the wilds of
Missouri; why, since he was so very anxious to find him, he had sent
the trapper after him instead of going himself; and why Sanders had
deserted him so suddenly when Silas Roper made his appearance in
the streets of St. Joseph. He wanted to know who Silas Roper was;
how he had learned so much about himself; and what Uncle
Reginald meant when he said that the guide would not leave the
vicinity of the rancho as long as the “stool-pigeon” was there. These
and other questions had Julian intended to propound to his uncle;
but the abruptness with which all the topics upon which he most
wished to converse were dismissed, satisfied him that it would be a
useless waste of time, and that his relative did not intend to
enlighten him any further than he saw fit. Julian would have been
glad of an opportunity to talk to one of those “watchful friends”
spoken of in the note. He had a great deal to say to him.
“Romez, bring out Snowdrop.”
It was his uncle who spoke, and the sound of his voice aroused
Julian from his reverie. They had now reached the stables—which
were built under the same roof with the house and surrounded by
the same wall—and were standing in front of the door.
The Mexican hostler to whom the order was addressed
disappeared in the stable, and in a few minutes came out again,
leading a beautiful snow-white mare, saddled and bridled.
Julian looked at her with delight, and declared that he had never
seen a finer animal. She was very showy, and pranced about as if
impatient to exhibit her mettle.
“I did not care to ride at first, but I do now,” said Julian. “I will be
ready as soon as I get my rifle and revolver. But I must have some
ammunition.”
“Pedro will supply you,” replied Uncle Reginald. “Go to him for
everything you want.”
It was but the work of a few minutes to run to his room, throw
his rifle and accouterments over his shoulder, buckle his revolver
about his waist and return to Pedro for the powder and lead. He was
out again almost as soon as he went in, and vaulting into the saddle
he bade his uncle good-by and rode at a full gallop out of the gate.
 CHAPTER XX.
JULIAN GETS INTO BUSINESS.

I F THERE is anything better calculated than another to put

one at peace with himself and all the world, it is a brisk
gallop on a good horse of a fine summer’s morning. It is a
specific for melancholy. When Julian was safe outside the
gloomy walls of the rancho, and felt himself being borne through the
air with the speed of a bird on the wing, his spirits rose wonderfully,
and in the exuberance of his glee he swung his sombrero about his
head, and gave utterance to a yell almost as loud and unearthly as
any he had heard uttered by the savages the night before. The
spirited mare responded to the yell with a fresh burst of speed, and
her rider, giving her a free rein, was carried at a rapid rate through
the valley in which his uncle’s rancho was located, through the
willows that skirted the base of the mountain, and finally found
himself in a rocky defile which wound about among the cliffs. Here
the mare voluntarily slackened her pace to a walk, and Julian wiped
his flushed face with his handkerchief and looked about him. He
could see nothing but rocks. They hemmed him in on all sides, and
towered above his head until their tops seemed to pierce the clouds.
“I don’t know why I ever allowed myself to be brought in here,”
thought the boy, “or why the horse should leave a level path to
follow so miserable a road as this. Perhaps Uncle Reginald purchased
her of some miner or settler up here in the mountains, and she
thinks she is on her way home. At any rate she seems to know
where she is going, and so long as she doesn’t lose me I don’t care
where she carries me. I hope I shall find some one to talk to. Since
uncle will not tell me anything about myself, I must learn what I
want to know from other sources. Halloo!”
This exclamation was called forth by an unexpected sight that
greeted his eyes. As he came suddenly around an abrupt bend in the
path, he found before him a long, low, narrow cabin, built snugly
under a beetling cliff which hung threateningly over the gorge. Two
well-beaten paths appeared at this point; one leading to the doors of
the building, and the other running on down the gorge. The mare,
which seemed perfectly familiar with the locality, quickened her pace
at once, and before Julian could gather up the reins to check her,
she had turned into the first mentioned path, and galloping up to
one of the doors stopped as if waiting for her rider to dismount.
After looking all about him, without discovering any one, Julian
began to take a survey of the premises.
There were two doors in the house, both opening out on the
path. A short examination of the ground in front of the one at which
his horse had stopped, showed him that it led into a stable; while
the other, no doubt, opened into the living-room, for there was a
rough bench beside it for the accommodation of loungers. While
Julian was wondering by whom and for what purpose the house had
been erected in that remote and lonely spot, his attention was
attracted by the movements of his horse, which, after pricking up
her ears and looking intently at the door in front of her, as if
expecting the arrival of some one, began pawing the ground
impatiently.
“She thinks there ought to be somebody here,” thought Julian.
“And there certainly is something in the stable,” he added, after
listening a moment, “for I can hear the stamping of horses. Halloo!
the house!”
Julian waited for a reply, and listened for some movement in the
cabin which would tell him that his call had been heard; but the only
response he received was the echo of his own voice thrown back
from the cliffs. This satisfied him that the owner of the premises was
absent; and picking up his reins, he was on the point of turning back
toward the valley, when, by the merest accident, he discovered
something that he might have seen before if he had made good use
of his eyes. It was a small window close under the eaves of the
house, which was filled by the muzzle of a revolver and a pair of
gleaming eyes looking straight at him.
Too astonished to speak, the boy sat in his saddle wondering
what was going to happen now, and presently saw the six-shooter
disappear and the eyes approach closer to the opening. A moment
afterward a shaggy head, crowned by a broad-brimmed hat, was
thrust slowly out, and a masculine face, that was by no means
handsome or prepossessing, was exposed to his view.
“It’s you after all, hain’t it?” growled a deep voice, in no very
amiable tones.
“Yes,” replied Julian, “it is I. But I heartily wish it was somebody
else,” he added, mentally.
“Why in tarnation didn’t you whistle? I didn’t know you in them
new clothes, and I might have put a ball into you just as easy as
not. I’ll be out in a jiffy.”
As the man said this he drew in his head and closed the window.
Julian was glad indeed when his villainous face disappeared, and
trembled when he reflected that perhaps that revolver had been
leveled at his head, and those evil eyes fastened upon him ever
since he arrived within sight of the cabin, and he had never
suspected it. He saw at once that he had placed himself in a
dangerous position. One of two things was certain. The owner of the
rancho was either hiding from pursuit, or else he was engaged in
some unlawful business. If he were an honest man he would not act
so strangely.
“But how does it happen that he recognizes me?” Julian asked
himself. “Does he know who I am, or does he take me for somebody
else? If he knows that I am Julian Mortimer, he may be a man of the
Sanders stamp who has been hired to put me out of Dick’s way. If
he thinks that I am an acquaintance of his, or an accomplice, he will
certainly discover his mistake as soon as he has a fair view of my
face, and then what will he do to me? I think I had better not wait
for him.”
As quick as thought Julian wheeled his mare and touched her
with his spurs; but the animal, knowing probably that good care and
plenty of corn awaited her entry into the stable which she regarded
as her home, responded very reluctantly. Before she had made many
bounds the door of the stable was jerked open, and a voice called
out in surprised and indignant tones:
“Halt! halt! I say, on the instant, or you’re a dead man!”
Julian knew that the speaker was in earnest, for his command
was followed by the click of the lock of his revolver; but he would
have kept on in spite of his fear of the bullets had not his horse,
which doubtless recognized the voice, came to a sudden stand-still.
Julian looked back and saw that the man’s pistol was pointed
straight at his breast.
“If you ain’t a little ahead of all the fools I ever saw in all my
born days my name ain’t Bob Smirker, and never was,” exclaimed
the owner of the rancho fiercely. “That’s the second time I have
come within an inch of shooting you. Come back here now, and let’s
have no more fooling.”
Julian, not daring to attempt to continue his retreat on his
unwilling steed, was compelled to obey. Calling all his courage to his
aid, he turned about and rode back to the cabin. Smirker looked
sharply at him as he came up, but Julian met his gaze without
flinching, and even succeeded in calling a smile to his face. Believing
that he had nothing to gain by deception, he began to explain who
he was and how he came to be there; but the man interrupted him,
and Julian was afterward glad that he had done so.
“I hope I am not intruding, sir,” he began. “I was out for a breath
of fresh air——”
“Oh, hush your nonsense!” cried the owner of the rancho angrily.
“You’re always ’out for a breath of fresh air’ when you are doing
something you’ve no business to do. That was what you said to me
on the day you found my secret passage-way which leads down
from the top of the cliff. I didn’t want anybody but myself to know
about that passage-way, and when I found that you had discovered
it I was mad enough to shoot you. You’re eternally up to some
foolishness, and it’s the greatest wonder in the world you haven’t
been killed a thousand times. Everybody says so. Now, Fred, if you
should come here every hour in the day for the next ten years, don’t
ever ride up without giving the signal, and don’t try to run away
when I open the door. This ain’t boy’s play we’re at, as you would
soon find out if them soldiers or some of the settlers should get hold
of you. You hadn’t ought to done it, ’cause I didn’t know you in that
Mexican rig. Come in. I’ve got something for you.”
While the man was speaking he was looking squarely into Julian’s
face, and the latter was waiting in an agony of suspense to see what
he would do when he discovered that he had mistaken the identity
of his visitor. But Smirker did not seem to think he had made a
mistake. Having delivered his lecture and thus worked off a little of
his indignation, he returned his revolver to his belt and led the way
into the stable, closely followed by Julian’s horse, which moved after
him without waiting for the word from her rider. Julian drew a long
breath of relief, and told himself that the danger for the present was
past. The difficulty now was to personate the boy whom Smirker
believed him to be.
While his companion lingered to fasten the door, Julian
dismounted and ran his eye about the stable, which was lighted by a
lantern suspended from one of the beams. It was much larger than
it appeared on the outside, showing that it extended under the cliff.
It was provided with stalls for a dozen horses, three of which had
occupants. The mare being left to herself, walked into one of the
stalls and immediately began munching some corn which had
doubtless been placed there for her.
“Now, then,” said Smirker, when he had fastened the door,
“where is it? Hand it out here.”
“Where is what?” asked the boy.
“Why, you know. Didn’t you bring it?”
 “No,” replied Julian, who of course had not the slightest idea
what the man meant.
“Didn’t they say anything about it?” asked Smirker, who appeared
to be very much disappointed as well as angry.
“Not a word.”
“Well, now, this way of doing business don’t suit me, and you
may tell ’em that I said so. I run just as much risk here as them that
steals the swag—every bit; ’cause how do I know but them soldiers
will be down on me when I ain’t looking for them? Looks like they
wanted to swindle me out of my share. But, after all, they ain’t
ahead of me much, ’cause I—you won’t blow on me, Fred?”
“Of course not,” replied Julian.
“I’ve got a little plunder here that I’m going to keep till they
come down with the yellow boys they owe me.”
“What sort of plunder?”
“Why, nuggets and gold-dust—twenty-five hundred dollars’
worth. You see, I was down in the mines the other day, and heard of
a man who had struck a lead and was going home that very day. But
he didn’t go.”
“Why not?” asked the boy, when Smirker paused.
“‘Cause I knocked him on the head—that’s why. I’ve got the gold
hid away safe. Do you want to go back now, or will you stay awhile?
I am lonesome here all by myself.”
“I had better go now,” replied Julian, who was eager to escape
from the man’s presence at the earliest possible moment. “I am in
something of a hurry.”
Smirker struck up a lively whistle, and taking a bridle down from
a pin beside the door, went into one of the stalls and brought out a
horse which looked enough like Snowdrop to have been her brother.
He was the same color, the same size, and just as stylish and
spirited. Julian knew that he was expected to ride this horse away
and leave his own steed in the care of the man; and, although he
did not quite like the arrangement, he consoled himself with the
thought that if he never saw Snowdrop again he would lose nothing
by the exchange.
“You ride good horses, Fred,” said Smirker, as he put Julian’s
saddle on the horse he had just brought out, “but you had better
take my advice and get others of a different color. White horses
don’t do for such business as this, ’cause they show too plain of
nights; and any one who happens to pass you on the road will
remember of having seen you. There are plenty of better horses in
the world, and the one I am going to send with you is one of them.”
Smirker having by this time saddled and bridled the white nag,
went into a second stall and brought out a large bay horse which he
walked up and down the stable for Julian’s inspection. The moment
the boy’s eyes rested on him he became reconciled to the loss of his
mare, and even eager to part with her, if by so doing he could gain
possession of this magnificent animal. If his speed and endurance
were equal to his beauty, he was certainly a horse worth having.
“He’s lightning on wheels,” declared Smirker, as he slipped a
bridle over the bay’s head, “and perhaps he will give you as much as
you want to do to lead him. He came from Fort Stoughton, and was
stolen from the major, who had just brought him from the States.
There you are,” he added, waving his hand toward the horses,
intimating by the gesture that Julian was at liberty to take charge of
them as soon as he pleased. “I wish you a pleasant journey. You
have been very lucky so far, and I hope your good fortune will
continue.”
The boy was prompt to take advantage of the permission thus
given him to leave the cabin. He quickly mounted the white horse,
inquiring as he did so:
“Any word to send to anybody?”
“Yes, there is,” replied Smirker, “and I came near forgetting it.
You can tell the fellows below that the captain’s cub has got back at
last.”
“What cub?”
 “Why, Julian; the one he’s been looking for so long. We’ll finger
some of that money and find out where that hidden gold mine is
now.”
“Does this—this cub know where it is?”
“No, but Silas Roper does. Sanders was here this morning and
told me the whole secret.”
“The captain hasn’t got hold of Silas, has he?”
“Not yet, but he will have him before long. It is a little the
queerest thing I ever heard of, this plan of the captain’s is,”
continued Smirker, placing one hand on the horn of Julian’s saddle,
and settling into an easy position against the side of the horse as if
he had a long story to tell, “and it shows what a head he’s got on his
shoulders, and what education will do for a man. You see—but in the
first place you know that he is no more of a Mortimer than I am?”
Julian, not daring to trust himself to speak, nodded his head,
pulled out his handkerchief ostensibly for the purpose of wiping his
forehead, but really to conceal the sudden pallor which he knew
overspread his face, and the man went on:
“The captain’s playing a deep game, and he’s going to succeed in
it, too. He’s making a decoy duck of Julian—using him to keep Silas
Roper about here until he can catch him; and when he once gets
hold of him and finds out where the money and the nuggets are,
he’ll make short work with both of them.”
What else Smirker was about to say Julian never knew, for an
unexpected interruption occurred at that moment. A shrill whistle,
sounding from some point close at hand, echoed through the gorge.
It produced a strange effect upon Julian’s companion, for he turned
as pale as death, and the hand which he placed upon the butt of his
revolver trembled visibly. He stood motionless until the whistle was
repeated, and then hurried across the floor and mounting a short
ladder that leaned against the wall of the stable, opened the window
before spoken of.
No sooner had he looked out than he sprung to the ground
again, and with a volley of oaths that made Julian’s blood run cold,
strode up to him and seized him by the collar.
“Look here, my cub,” he hissed, between his clenched teeth, “I
suspected you all along. There ain’t two White-horse Freds in this
country, and I know it. Who are you? Speak quick!”
As he said this he pulled his revolver from his belt and leveled it
at Julian’s head.
 CHAPTER XXI.
WHITE-HORSE FRED.

J ULIAN, who had been congratulating himself upon the ease

with which he was about to extricate himself from his
perilous situation, was dismayed at this turn of events. He
comprehended the matter perfectly. White-horse Fred, so
called probably from the color of the animals he rode, was a
member of a band of horse thieves and robbers, and it was his
business to assist in moving the plunder from one point to another.
The man Smirker belonged to the same organization, and it was his
duty to receive and care for the booty until such time as the
authorized agents of the band called for it. He had probably been on
the lookout for his confederate when Julian arrived.
“But why didn’t he know that I wasn’t White-horse Fred as soon
as he looked into my face?” thought the boy, so nearly overcome
with terror that he did not hear the words that had been addressed
to him. “And how does it happen that I was riding Fred’s horse? How
did my uncle come by him? I can’t understand it?”
“Speak quick!” repeated Smirker, savagely, “and don’t try to draw
no weapons. Who are you?”
He pulled back the hammer of his pistol with the thumb of his
right hand as he spoke, and shifting his left from Julian’s collar to
the butt of the revolver which the boy was on the point of pulling
from his belt.
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