What the colonel\'s business was nobody knew, nor did any one care, particularly. He purchased for cash only, and he never grumbled at the price of anything that he wanted; who could ask more than that?
Curious people occasionally wondered how, when it had been fully two years since the colonel, with every one else, abandoned Duck Creek to the Chinese, he managed to spend money freely, and to lose considerable at cards and horse-races. In fact, the keeper of that one of the two Challenge Hill saloons which the colonel did not patronize was once heard to absentmindedly wonder whether the colonel hadn\'t a money-mill somewhere, where he turned out double-eagles and "slugs" (the Coast name for fifty-dollar gold-pieces).
When so important a personage as a barkeeper indulged publicly in an idea, the inhabitants of Challenge Hill, like good Californians everywhere, considered themselves in duty bound to give it grave consideration; so, for a few days, certain industrious professional gentlemen, who won money of the colonel, carefully weighed some of the brightest pieces and tested them with acids, and tasted them and sawed them in two, and retried them and melted them up, and had the lumps assayed.
The result was a complete vindication of the colonel, and a loss of considerable custom to the indiscreet barkeeper.
The colonel was as good-natured a man as had ever been known at Challenge Hill, but, being mortal, the colonel had his occasional times of despondency, and one of them occurred after a series of races, in which he had staked his all on his own bay mare Tipsie, and had lost.
Looking reproachfully at his beloved animal failed to heal the aching void of his pockets, and drinking deeply, swearing eloquently and glaring defiantly at all mankind, were equally unproductive of coin.
The boys at the saloon sympathized most feelingly with the colonel; they were unceasing in their invitations to drink, and they even exhibited considerable Christian forbearance when the colonel savagely dissented with every one who advanced any proposition, no matter how incontrovertible.
But unappreciated sympathy grows decidedly tiresome to the giver, and it was with a feeling of relief that the boys saw the colonel stride out of the saloon, mount Tipsie, and gallop furiously away.
Riding on horseback has always been considered an excellent sort of exercise, and fast riding is universally admitted to be one of the most healthful and delightful means of exhilaration in the world.
But when a man is so absorbed in his exercise that he will not stop to speak to a friend; and when his exhilaration is so complete that he turns his eyes from well-meaning thumbs pointing significantly into doorways through which a man has often passed while seeking bracing influences, it is but natural that people should express some wonder.
The colonel was well known at Toddy Flat, Lone Hand, Blazers, Murderer\'s Bar, and several other villages through which he passed, and as no one had been seen to precede him, betting men were soon offering odds that the colonel was running away from somebody.
Strictly speaking they were wrong, but they won all the money that had been staked against them; for within half an hour\'s time there passed over the same road an anxious-looking individual, who reined up in front of the principal saloon of each place, and asked if the colonel had passed.
Had the gallant colonel known that he was followed, and by whom, there would have been an extra election held at the latter place very shortly after, for the colonel\'s pursuer was no other than the constable of Challenge Hill, and for constables and all other officers of the law the colonel possessed hatred of unspeakable intensity.
On galloped the colonel, following the stage-road, which threaded the old mining camps on Duck Creek; but suddenly he turned abruptly out of the road, and urged his horse through the young pines and bushes, which grew thickly by the road, while the constable galloped rapidly on to the next camp.
There seemed to be no path through the thicket into which the colonel had turned, but Tipsie walked between trees and bushes as if they were but the familiar objects of her own stable-yard.
Suddenly a voice from the bushes shouted:
"What\'s up?"
"Business—that\'s what," replied the colonel.
"It\'s time," replied the voice, and its owner—a bearded six-footer—emerged from the bushes, and stroked Tipsie\'s nose with the freedom of an old acquaintance. "We hain\'t had a nip sence last night, an\' thar\' ain\'t a cracker or a handful of flour in the shanty. The old gal go back on yer?"
"Yes," replied the colonel, ruefully—lost ev\'ry blasted race. \'Twasn\'t her fault, bless her—she done her level best. Ev\'rybody to home?"
"You bet," said the man. "All ben a-prayin\' for yer to turn up with the rocks, an\' somethin\' with more color than spring water. Come on."
The man led the way, and Tipsie and the colonel followed, and the trio suddenly found themselves before a small log hut, in front of which sat three solemn, disconsolate-looking individuals, who looked appealingly at the colonel.
"Mac\'ll tell yer how \'twas, fellers," said the colonel, meekly, "while I picket the mare."
The colonel was absent but a very few moments, but when he returned each of the four men was attired in pistols and knives, while Mac was distributing some dominoes, made from a rather dirty flour-bag.
"\'Tain\'t so late as all that, is it?" inquired the colonel.
"Better be an hour ahead than miss it this \'ere night," said one of the four. "I ain\'t been so thirsty sence I come round the Horn, in \'50, an\' we run short of water. Somebody\'ll get hurt ef thar\' ain\'t no bitters on the old concern—they will, or my name ain\'t Perkins."
"Don\'t count yer chickings \'fore they\'re hetched, Perky," said one of the party, as he adjusted his domino under the rim of his hat. "\'S\'posin\' ther\' shud be too many for us?"
"Stiddy, Cranks!" remonstrated the colonel. "Nobody ever gets along ef they \'low \'emselves to be skeered."
"Fact," chimed in the smallest and thinnest man of the party. "The Bible says somethin\' mighty hot \'bout that. I disremember dzackly how it goes; but I\'ve heerd Parson Buzzy, down in Maine, preach a rippin\' old sermon from that text many a time. The old man never thort what a comfort them sermons wus a-goin\' to be to a road-agent, though. That time we stopped Slim Mike\'s stage, an\' he didn\'t hev no more manners than to draw on me, them sermons wus a perfec\' blessin\' to me—the thought uv \'em cleared my head ez quick ez a cocktail. An\'—"
"I don\'t want to disturb Logroller\'s pious yarn," interrupted the colonel; "but ez it\'s Old Black that\'s drivin\' to-day instid of Slim Mike, an\' ez Old Black ollers makes his time, hedn\'t we better vamose?"
The door of the shanty was hastily closed, and the men filed through the thicket until near the road, when they marched rapidly on parallel lines with it. After about half an hour, Perkins, who was leading, halted, and wiped his perspiring brow with his shirt-sleeve.
"Far enough from home now," said he. "\'Tain\'t no use bein\' a gentleman ef yer hev to work too hard."
"Safe enough, I reckon," replied the colonel. "We\'ll do the usual; I\'ll halt \'em, Logroller\'ll tend to the driver, Cranks takes the boot, an\' Mac an\' Perk takes right an\' left. An\'—I know it\'s tough—but consid\'rin\' how everlastin\' eternally hard up we are, I reckon we\'ll have to ask contributions from the ladies, too, ef ther\'s any aboard—eh, boy?"
"Reckon so," replied Logroller, with a chuckle that seemed to inspire even his black domino with a merry wrinkle or two. "What\'s the use of women\'s rights ef they don\'t ever hev a chance of exercisin\' \'em? Hevin\' ther purses borrowed \'ud show \'em the hull doctrine in a bran-new light."
"They\'re treacherous critters, women is," remarked Cranks; "some of \'em might put a knife into a feller while he was \'pologizin\'."
"Ef you\'re afeard of \'em," said Perkins, "you ken go back an\' clean up the shanty."
"Reminds me of what the Bible sez," said Logroller; "\'there\'s a lion on the trail; I\'ll be chawed up, sez the lazy galoot,\' ur words to that effect."
"Come, come boys," interposed the colo............