The Man From Bar-20 by Clarence E. Mulford (best books to read for young adults .txt) đ
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âFill âem again,â grinned Johnny. âNot that I hankers for thâ kind of liquor you sells, but because we has to do thâ best we can with whatâs pervided.â
âPopâs sellinâ better liquor than he used to,â smiled Quigley. âAm I to thank you for thâ improvement?â
âI refuse to accept thâ responsibility,â laughed Johnny.
âWell, he had some waggin varnish last year, anâ for a long time we was puzzled to know what he did with it. One day, somebody said his whiskey tasted like a pine knot: anâ then we knew thâ answer.â
âYou both can go to thâ devil,â grinned Pop.
âAiminâ to make a long stay with us, Mr. Nelson?â asked Quigley.
âThat all depends on how soon I gets all thâ gold out of this country.â
âAh! Prospectingâ
âStartinâ tomorrow, I am: if this varnish donât kill me.â
âThere ainât never been none found around here, âthough I never could understand why. There was a couple of prospectors here some years ago, anâ they worked harder for nothinâ than anybody I ever saw. They covered thâ ground purty well, but they was broke about thâ time they started south of town, anâ had to clear out. They claimed there was pay dirt down there, but they couldnât get a grubstake on thâ strength of that, so they just had to quit.â
âThatâs where it is if itâs any place,â said Pop hurriedly. âThâ riverâs workinâ day anâ night, pilinâ it agâin them rock ledges above thâ ford; anâ itâs been doinâ it since thâ world began.â
Johnny shook his head. âMebby; but there ainât no way to get it, unless you can drain thâ river. I want shallow water little streams, where thereâs sand anâ gravel bars anâ flats. Iâm aiminâ to work north of here.â
Quigley forced a smile and shook his head. âIâm afraid youâll waste yore time. Iâve been all through that section, in fact I live up there, anâ some of my men have fooled around lookinâ for color. There ainât ft sign of it anywhere.â
âWell, Iâm aiminâ to go back north when I get tired of prospectinâ,â replied Johnny, grinning cheerfully; âanâ I figgers I can prospect around anâ gradually work up that way, toward Hope. Iâll drop in anâ see you if I run acrost yore place. I reckon prospectin I is a lonesome game.â
âDidnât you ever try it before?â asked Quigley in surprise.
âThis is my first whirl at it,â reluctantly admitted Johnny. âIâm a cowpuncher, got tired of thâ north ranges anâ drifted down here. Anâ I might âaâ stayed a cowpuncher, only I got a job on thâ CL anâ worked there for thâ last two weeks; anâ I got a-plenty. It soured me of punchinâ. Outside of beinâ cussed suspicious, that man Logan is loco. I donât mind beinâ suspected a little at first; but I ainât goinâ to work like a fool when there ainât no call for it. I might âaâ stuck it out, at that, only for a fool notion of his. Thatâs where I cut loose.â
Quigley looked curious. âNew notion?â
âYes,â laughed Johnny contemptuously. âHe got thâ idea that thâ night air, close to thâ river, ainât healthy for thâ cows! Told us to drive all of âem back from thâ river every eveninâ before we rode in. I said as how we ought to blanket âem, anâ build fires under âem. I reckon mebby I was a mite sarcastic, at that. Well, anyhow; we had an argument, anâ I drew my pay anâ quit.â
Pop let out a howl. âGood Lord!â he snorted. âEveninâ air too wet for cows! Drive âem back every night! Anâ lemme tell you that outfitâs just foolish enough to do it, too. He-he-he!â
Quigley laughed, and then looked at the proprietor: âPop, we ainât forgettinâ. We both has bought, anâ it usually goes thâ rounds before it stops.â
âOh, Iâll set âem up,â growled Pop.
âYou ranchinâ, Mr. Quigley?â asked Johnny.
âWell, I am, anâ I ainât,â answered Quigley. âIâm farminâ anâ ranchinâ both, on a small scale. I got a few head, but not enough to give me much bother. We sort of let âem look after themselves.â
âOh,â said Johnny regretfully. âI thought mebby if I got tired of prospectinâ, anâ short of cash, that I might get a job with you.â
âI ainât got cows enough to keep me busy,â explained Quigley. âWe let âem wander, anâ get âem as we need âem. Well,â he said, turning as if to leave, âIâm sorry about that fool break of mine, Mr. Nelson; anâ to prove it Iâm goinâ to give you some real good advice: Keep away from thâ Twin Buttes country. So long, boys.â
Johnny looked after him, and then faced Pop, shrugging his shoulders. âI donât quite get thâ drift of that,â he said slowly; âbut he ought to know thâ country he lives in. Iâll try Devilâs Gap first; but I got a cussed strong notion not to!â
Pop sighed with relief. âLetâs go over anâ see what Charleyâs got for yore kit,â he suggested.
Charley James was playing solitaire on a box laid across a nail keg and he smiled a welcome as they entered.
âCharley,â said Pop. âThis cowpuncherâs aiminâ to change his spots. Heâs a amatchure prospector anâ wants us to pick out his outfit.â
âI can believe that heâs an amatchure if heâs goinâ to try it in this part of thâ country,â smiled Charley. âNobodyâs ever tried it down here before.â
Johnny was about to mention the two prospectors referred to by Mr. Quigley, but thought better of it.
âOh, itâs been tried,â said Pop casually. âBut they didnât stay long. What you got in that line, Charley?â
âI ainât shore; but first you want an axe. Come on; well saunter arounâ anâ pick things out as they hit our eye. Hereâs thâ axe double bitted, six-pounder.â
âToo big,â chuckled Pop. âThere ainât none of them there redwood trees out here; theyâre in Californy.â
âHuh!â grunted Charley. âMebbyso; but thatâs a good axe.â
âPopâs right; itâs too heavy,â decided Johnny. âAnâ I donât want it double bitted because I may want to drive stakes with it.â
âAll right,â said Charley, who had hoped to at last get rid of the big axe. âHereâs a threepounder â Little Gemâ anâ it shore is. All right; now for thâ next article.â
In half an hour the outfit was assembled and they were turning to leave the store when Johnny suddenly grabbed his companions. âWhat about some fishhooks?â he demanded anxiously.
Charley rubbed his head reflectively. âI think mebby I got some; donât remember throwinâ âem away. There was some with feathers, anâ some without; plain hooks, anâ flies. Brought âem with me when I first came out here, anâ never used âem. Ought to have some line, too; anâ a reel somewheres. Iâll hunt âem up anâ put âem with yore duffle. You can cut yoreself a pole. Theyâll be a little present from me.â
âThank you,â beamed Johnny, and forthwith Pop dragged them to his place of business.
Johnny left the following morning, and one week later he returned, trudging along beside his loaded horse, and he was the owner of a generous amount of gold, the treasure of a âpocketâ upon which he had blundered. He determined to keep this a secret, for if he let it be known that he had found âcolor,â what excuse could he offer for leaving that field? It fit too well into his plans to be revealed.
Pop grinned a welcome: âHave any luck?â
âFishinâ, yes,â laughed Johnny. âBet I moved ten acres of gravel. I wasted a week; now Iâm goinâ north.â
Pop frowned. âI reckon youâll have yore own way; but put in yore time fishinâ anâ prospectinâ, anâ mind yore own business.â
âShore,â said Johnny. âLook here,â unrolling a bundle and producing two of the gold sacks, which were heavy and bulging. Pop stared, speechless, until his new friend opened one of them and dumped four dressed trout on the bar.
âSlip âem in a fryinâ pan with some bacon,â grinned Johnny.
âGet âem in thâ river?â demanded Pop incredulously.
âYou know that draw runninâ east from thâ Gap thâ one with them two dead pines leaninâ against each other?â
âYes; âtainât moreân a mile from thâ ford! â
âI found âem up there, hidinâ in a bush.â
âReckon you think thatâs funny,â grunted Pop. âWhy themâs brook trout! I ainât had any since I was a boy. Thâ devil with business! Iâm goinâ fishinâ one day a week. Now where you goinâ?â
âGot some for Charley,â laughed Johnny from the door.
Charley looked up from his eternal solitaire: âHello, Nelson!â
âLook what I got,â exulted Johnny, extending the bag.
âGod help us!â exclaimed Charley. âDid you did you â
âI did. Brook trout, Pop says. Prospectinâ ainât nothinâ compared to fishinâ. Popâs goinâ one day a week, anâ after you eat these mebby youâll be with him.â
âPop canât put on no airs with me,â chuckled Charley. âIf he can afford to close up, so can I. But you shouldnât âaâ poked no bulginâ gold sack at me like that! It was a shock. Come on; letâs take somethinâ for it.â He grabbed the fish and led the way across the street; and for the rest of the afternoon three happy men discussed prospecting and trout fishing, but the latter was by far the more important.
THE next morning Johnny said good-bye to Pop and walked by Pepperâs side, watching the big pack on her back, while Pop, shaking his head, entered his place of business and forthwith began work on a crude sign which, one day a week, would hang on his locked front door.
Well to the north of Hastings, Johnny came to a brook flowing through a deep ravine, and, forsaking the trail, followed the little stream westward and evening found him encamped in a small clearing. He spent several days here, panning the stream and fishing during daylight, and scouting in his moccasins at night. He paid a visit to Little Canyon and explored the valley he was in, and at the head of the valley he found a deep-walled pasture above a short, narrow canyon. Deciding to erect a cabin at the canyon entrance as a monument to the innocence of his activities, he prospected a sand bar near by and rediscovered the gold which he had found at Devilâs Gap, which served as an excellent excuse for locating there permanently; and after a week of hard work, the cabin became a reality.
His every movement had been made upon the supposition that he was being watched; and the supposition became a fact when he discovered boot-prints along the opposite bank of the creek. These promised him a trail by which he could easily locate the rustlersâ ranch, and at daylight the next morning he was following them and finally reached a great ridge, which he ascended with caution.
Below him was a deep valley, through which a stream moved sluggishly, and at the upper end was a narrow canyon, not more than ten paces wide, through which the stream escaped from another valley above. Twin Buttes were several miles to the east of him, lying a mile or more north of the valley. He looked through the deep canyon and at the corner of a stone house at its other end, and as he watched he saw several men come into view. One of them motioned toward the south and paused to speak to his compaiv ions, whereupon Johnny wriggled down the slope and set out for his camp.
Back again in his own valley, he built a sapling fence across the little canyon, cut a pile of firewoocf
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