CHAPTER XX.

JULIAN GETS INTO BUSINESS.

IF 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.