CHAPTER IX.

TOM’S STORY.

“What was that runaway’s name?” asked Tom. “Was he from Eaton?”

“He was, and his name was Leon Parker,” replied Oscar. “He wasn’t satisfied with as comfortable a home and as kind a father and mother as any boy ever had, so he ran away and came out here to be a hunter.”

“Well, of all the born idiots I ever heard of, he is the beat!” exclaimed Tom, who could hardly believe his ears.

“That’s my opinion exactly. If he could see you now, or if he could have seen the miserable being I met while I was riding through the sage-brush a little while ago, he would be——”

“While you were riding through the sage-brush!” interrupted Tom. “Did you come that way?”

“Yes; I came directly from the post, and on the road I nearly ran over the meanest specimen of humanity my eyes ever rested upon. I tell you, I wouldn’t like to meet him on a dark night, if I had anything about me that was worth stealing.”

“Oh, he isn’t as bad as he looks,” said Tom.

“How do you know he isn’t?” asked Oscar, who was greatly amazed. “It isn’t possible that you are acquainted with him?”

“Yes, it is possible,” replied Tom, turning away his head so that his brother might not see the hot blush of shame that momentarily overspread his features. “I know him, and, more than that, he is my partner. I am getting ready to start out with him.”

“Worse and worse,” said Oscar, who was utterly confounded. “Why, Tom, what in the world is going to become of you?”

“No preaching now!” was the angry rejoinder. “I had to put up with it from mother while I was at home, but I am not obliged to submit to it now, and I won’t, either! If you want to talk business, go ahead; but if you want to preach, wait until some other time.”

The words he had in his mind were:

“If you want to preach, clear out, and leave me as you found me.”

But he recollected himself in time, and did not utter them.

Oscar had expressed a desire to assist him, and, consequently, it would not be wise to make him angry.

“You told me that you had already helped one runaway, and that you would help me,” continued Tom, seating himself on the log by Oscar’s side, and laying his hand familiarly on his shoulder. “Now, let’s talk about that. How much are you going to give me, and how did you happen to strike it so rich? I mean, how did you manage to secure so large a haul and get away with it?” he added, seeing the inquiring look on his brother’s face.

“Let me hear your story, and then you shall hear mine,” answered Oscar. “Tell nothing but the truth, now. How came you in this fix?”

“Well, to make a long story short, I came out here with about fifteen hundred dollars in my pocket, intending to go to the mines, but—unfortunately for me—I struck Denver on the way, and stayed there until I had squandered all my money. Then I had to go to work. A fellow can’t live in this country without doing something to bring in the stamps, I tell you, for he has to pay two prices for all the necessaries of life.

“The first position I managed to work myself into was that of mule-whacker—teamster, you know; but I didn’t understand the care of stock. I wasn’t strong enough to handle the heavy boxes and bales of freight, and after one of the mules had kicked me over a few times, I became sick of the job, threw it up, and went back to Denver. Everything there was full—more applicants than there were places for them to fill.

“One day while I was wandering about the streets, waiting for something to turn up, I came across a college graduate who was sawing wood for his dinner. After a little talk with him, I made up my mind that I would have to come down to it, too, so I took in every job of that kind I could find, swept out saloons and stores—in fact, did anything that would bring me money enough to pay for a decent meal once a day.”

“Where did you sleep?” asked Oscar.

“In deserted shanties, principally,” was the reply. “When I was hungry or thirsty, and couldn’t find any way to earn money, I pawned some of the clothing I had purchased in St. Louis. At last I had nothing left but my overcoat, and I dared not think what I should do when that, too, was gone. But they say it is always darkest just before daylight, and, as it happened, I struck a lead just in the nick of time—struck it rich, too.

“While I was sweeping out a saloon to pay for my breakfast, this man—who is now my partner—came in for his regular eye-opener. After he had drank it, he fell into conversation with two or three fellows who were sitting around, and then I learned that he was a professional wolfer. He said that he had made thirty-five hundred dollars out of his last season’s catch, and had come to the settlements to sell his plunder and have a good time. Having spent all his money, and winter being close at hand, he was getting ready to start out again. All he lacked was a companion, but he couldn’t find one.

“I don’t know what it was that prompted me to follow him out of the saloon when he left, but I did it, and I tell you it was a most lucky thing for me. I told him that I didn’t know anything about a wolfer’s business, but I must do something to earn my grub and clothes, and offered, if he would take me with him and teach me the tricks of the trade, to give him one-third of my catch. He jumped at my offer, and here I am, _but_ in this condition,” said Tom, arising to his feet and turning his trousers’ pockets inside out, to show that they were empty.

“I don’t see that you have had any good luck yet,” replied Oscar. “You seem to be completely strapped.”

“So I am, but I consider myself very fortunate, all the same, for I am in a fair way to make a splendid living. Thirty-five hundred dollars in one season, and all the summer to rest in! Just think of it! Why, man alive, we’ll be rich in five years! We’ll have a cattle ranch of our own, live on the fat of the land, and fairly roll in money!” cried Tom, trying in vain to infuse some of his bogus enthusiasm into his brother, who was not at all impressed by these visions of ease and wealth.

We said that Tom’s enthusiasm was not genuine, and neither was it. It was assumed for a purpose, and Oscar knew what that purpose was before his brother’s next words revealed it.

“Come to think it all over, I am heartily glad I met you,” continued Tom. “Here we are, brothers, strangers in a strange land, and both in trouble. Our interests are identical. Two can do more than one, and we ought by all means to hang together. You must have seven or eight hundred dollars, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have that much.”

“Can you get hold of that five hundred you left behind?”

“I suppose I can, but I don’t want it.”

“Oh, we shall need it, sooner or later, and you might as well make arrangements accordingly. That makes twelve or thirteen hundred dollars that we are sure of. Now I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll go halves on that, and I will drop my old partner and take you in his place. What do you say?”

Oscar did not say anything immediately. His brother’s proposition was rather more than he had bargained for. This was the point Tom had been trying to reach ever since he found out that Oscar had money in his possession. The latter had seen it very plainly, and knew that the matter must at some time be thoroughly discussed, and Tom be given to understand that his offer of partnership could not be entertained. He knew, too, that there would be an explosion when the denouement came, and Tom learned how sadly he had been mistaken in regard to some things, and for this reason Oscar was anxious to put the critical moment off as long as he could.