Mosely and his companion continued in captivity through the night. Some of my readers may consider the punishment a severe one, and it must be admitted that it was attended with no small share of discomfort. But for that time it was an exceedingly mild penalty for the offence which the two men had committed. In the early days of California, theft was generally punished in the most summary manner by hanging the culprit from a limb of the nearest tree, and that, in the majority of cases, would have been the fate of Bill Mosely and Tom Hadley.
But neither Bradley nor Ben was willing to go to such extremes. Jake Bradley had had rough experiences, and he was no soft-hearted sentimentalist, but he had a natural repugnance to taking the life of his fellow-creatures.
"Money," he said on one occasion to Ben, "ain't to be measured ag'in a man's life. I don't say I wouldn't kill a man for some things, though I should hate to mightily, but it wouldn't be on account of robbery. I wouldn't have a man's blood on my conscience for such a thing as that."
It is needless to say that our young hero, whose heart was warm and humane, agreed fully with his older companion.
When the two friends got up in the morning and went out of the cabin, they found their two captives in the same position in which they had left them. They looked weary and were stiff in the limbs, as well they might be.
"Well, my friends," said Bradley, "I hope you've passed a pleasant night."
"I'm almost dead," growled Bill Mosely. "I feel as if I'd been here a week."
"Do you feel the same way?" inquired Bradley, addressing Tom Hadley.
"I should say so," answered Hadley, in a voice of intense disgust.
"It was your own choice, Mosely," said Jake Bradley. "It was either all night braced up against a tree, or to be shot at once and put out of your misery."
"Who wants to be shot?" returned Mosely. "That would be worse than stayin' here all night. You might have let us go last night."
"So I might, but I wanted to teach you a lesson. You know very well, Bill Mosely, you'd have fared a good deal worse with some men. You'd have been swingin' from the nearest bough, and so would your friend. You'll come to that some time, but I'd rather some one else would hang you. It ain't a job I hanker after."
"Are you goin' to set us free?" asked Mosely, impatiently, not enjoying Bradley's prediction as to his future fate.
"Yes, I think I will--on one condition."
"Go ahead! I'll agree to anything."
"That you'll leave this part of California and not come back. I don't want you to cross my path ag'in."
"You can bet I don't mean to," said Mosely; and there is no doubt he was entirely in earnest.
"Do you make the same promise, Tom?" asked Bradley, turning to Hadley.
"I should say so," returned Hadley; and there is no reason to doubt his sincerity also.
"You see, my friends, you don't appear to know the difference between your property and mine, particularly when it comes to hosses. It is an unfortunate little peculiarity of yours that will bring your life to an untimely end some of these days. If you should ever reform and set up as respectable men, I might be willin' to know you, but there's about as much chance of that, accordin' to my reckonin', as of water runnin' up hill."
While he was expressing himself thus he was cutting the cords of his prisoners, and they took the first chance to stretch their cramped limbs.
"Feel better, don't you?" asked Bradley, smiling.
"I should say so," answered Hadley.
"Couldn't you give us something to eat?" asked Mosely; "I haven't eaten a mouthful since yesterday noon, and I feel faint."
"Ki Sing," said Bradley, "bring out some victuals. These men are not particular friends of mine, but we won't send them away hungry. I've known what it is to fast for thirty-six hours at a stretch, and I understand how it feels."
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