Home > Authors Index > Horatio Alger > Ben's Nugget: A Boy's Search For Fortune > This page
Ben's Nugget: A Boy's Search For Fortune, a fiction by Horatio Alger |
||
Chapter 8. Turning The Tables |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER VIII. TURNING THE TABLES When the three friends came in view of the cabin, the first sight which attracted their attention was the two mustangs, who stood, in patient enjoyment of the rest they so much needed, just outside. Their unlawful owners, as we know, were engaged inside in searching for gold-dust, without the slightest apprehension or expectation of interference. "That's my mustang," exclaimed Bradley in a tone of suppressed excitement. "I never looked to lay eyes on him again, but, thank the Lord! the thief has walked into a trap which I didn't set for him. We'll have a reckoning, and that pretty soon." "How do you know it's your mustang?" asked Ben. "There's a white spot on the left flank. The other one's yours: I know it by his make, though I can't lay hold of any sign. Even if I didn't know him, his bein' in company with mine makes it stand to reason that it belongs to you." "I shall be glad to have it again," said Ben, "but we may have a tussle for them." "I'm ready," said Jake Bradley, grimly. By this time they had come to a halt to consider the situation. "I don't hear anything," said Bradley, listening intently. "I expect the skunks must be inside. Pray Heaven they haven't harmed poor Dewey!" Just then Dewey's voice was heard, and they were so near that they could distinguish his words. "Well, gentlemen," he said, "how are you getting on? Have you found anything yet?" "No, curse it!" responded Mosely. "Suppose you give us a hint." "Thank you, but I don't see how that's going to benefit me. If you find the money you mean to take it, don't you?" "I should say so," answered Tom Hadley, frankly. Richard Dewey smiled. "I commend your frankness," he said. "Well, you can't expect a man to assist in robbing himself, can you?" "You're mighty cool," growled Bill Mosely. "On the contrary, my indignation is very warm, I assure you." "Look here, Dewey," said Mosely, pausing: "I'm goin' to make you a proposition." "Go on." "Of course we shall find this gold-dust of yours, but it's rather hard and troublesome work; so I'll tell you what we'll do. If you'll tell us where to find it, we'll leave a third of it for you. That'll be square, won't it? One part for me, one for my pard, and one for you? What do you say?" "That you are very kind to allow me a third of what belongs wholly to me. But even if I should think this a profitable arrangement to enter into, how am I to feel secure against your carrying off all of the treasure?" "You can trust to the honor of a gentleman," laid Mr. William Mosely, pompously. "Meaning you?" asked Dewey, with a laugh. "Meaning me, of course, and when perhaps for myself, perhaps for my pard also--eh, Tom?" "I should say so, Bill." "I've heard there's honor among thieves," said Dewey, smiling, "and this appears to be an illustration of it. Well, gentlemen, I'm sorry to say I don't feel that confidence in your honor or your word which would justify me in accepting your kind proposal." "Do you doubt my word?" blustered Mosely. "I feel no doubt on the subject," answered Dewey. "I accept your apology," said Mosely; "it's lucky you made it. Me and my friend don't stand no insults. We don't take no back talk. We're bad men when we get into a scrimmage--eh, Tom?" "I don't doubt your word in the least," said Dewey. "It gives me pleasure to assent cordially to the description you give of yourselves." Tom Hadley, who was rather obtuse, took this as a compliment, but Mosely was not altogether clear whether Dewey was not chaffing them. "That sounds all right," said he, suspiciously, "if you mean it." "Oh, set your mind quite at rest on that subject, Bill, if that is your name. You may be sure that I mean everything I say." "Then you won't give us a hint where to dig?" "I am sorry to disoblige you, but I really couldn't." "Do you hear that, Ben?" said Jake Bradley, his mouth distended with a grin. "Dick's chaffin' them scoundrels, and they can't see it. It looks as if they was huntin' for the gold-dust. They haven't found anything yet, and they haven't hurt Dick, or he wouldn't talk as cool as he does." There was a brief conference, and then the first movement was made by the besieging-party. Ki Sing, by Bradley's direction, walked to the entrance of the hut and looked placidly in. As Mosely looked up he saw the Chinaman's face looking like a full moon, and for an instant he was stupefied. He could not conceive how his victim could have escaped from his captivity. "Tom," he ejaculated, pointing to the doorway, "look there!" "I should say so!" ejaculated Tom Hadley, no less surprised than his friend. "How did you get here?" demanded Bill Mosely, addressing the Chinaman. "Me walk up hill," answered Ki Sing, with a bland smile. "How did you get away from the tree? That's what I mean, you stupid." "Fliend come along--cut stling," answered the Chinaman, pronouncing his words in Mongolian fashion. Bill Mosely was startled. So Ki Sing had a friend. Was the friend with him? "Where is your friend?" he asked abruptly. "That my fliend," said the crafty Ki Sing, pointing to his master on the pallet in the corner. "Yes, Ki Sing," said Dewey, "we are friends and will remain so, my good fellow." Though he did not quite understand why Ben and Jake Bradley did not present themselves, he felt sure that they were close at hand, and that his unwelcome visitors would very soon find it getting hot for them. "Look here, you yellow baboon!" said Bill Mosely, angrily, "you know what I mean. This man here didn't free you from the tree. Anyway, you were a fool to come back. Do you know what I am going to do with you?" Ki Sing shook his head placidly. "I am going to tie you hand and foot and roll you down hill. You'd better have stayed where you were." "No want loll down hillee," said the Chinaman, without, however, betraying any fear. "I sha'n't ask whether you like it or not. But stop! Perhaps you can help us. Do you know where the gold-dust is?" "Yes," answered Ki Sing. Bill Mosely's face lighted up with pleasure. He thought he saw the way out of his difficulty. "That's the very thing!" he cried, turning to his partner--"eh, Tom?" "I should say so, Bill." "Just show us where it is, and we won't do you any harm." "If my fliend, Dickee Dewee, tell me to, I will," said Ki Sing. Dewey, thus appealed to, said, "No, Ki Sing; they only want to rob me, and I am not willing to have you show them." "You'd better shut up, Dewey," said Mosely, insolently; "you're a dead duck, and you're only gettin' this foolish heathen into trouble. We've got tired of waitin' 'round here, and--" "I am ready to excuse you any time," said Dewey. "Don't stay on my account, I beg. In fact, the sooner you leave the better it will please me." Bill Mosely, who didn't fancy Dewey's sarcasm, frowned fiercely and turned again to Ki Sing. "Will you show us or not?" he demanded. "Velly solly," said Ki Sing, with a childish smile, "but Dickee Dewee won't let me." With an oath Mosely sprang to the doorway and tried to clutch the Chinaman, when the latter slid to one side and Jake Bradley confronted him. "You'd better begin with me, Bill Mosely," he said. _ |
||