Gold Part 35

"Good evening," responded Johnny guardedly.

"You are the man who stuck up Scar-face Charley in Morton's place, ain't you?"

"What's that to you?" replied Johnny. "Are you a friend of his?"

His habitual air of young carelessness had fallen from him; his eye was steady and frosty, his face set in stern lines. Before my wondering eyes he had grown ten years older in the last six hours. The other was lounging toward us--a short, slight man, with flaxen moustache and eyebrows, a colourless face, pale blue eyes, and a bald forehead from which the hat had been pushed back. He was chewing a straw.

"Well, I was just inquirin' in a friendly sort of way," replied the newcomer peaceably.

"I don't know you," stated Johnny shortly, "nor who you're friends to, nor your camp. I deny your right to ask questions. Good night."

"Well, good night," agreed the other, still peaceable. "I reckon I gather considerable about you, anyhow." He turned away. "I had a notion from what I heard that you was sort of picked on, and I dropped round, sort of friendly like; but Lord love you! I don't care how many of you desperadoes kill each other. Go to it, and good riddance!" He cast his pale blue eyes on Johnny's rigid figure. "Also, go to h.e.l.l!" he remarked dispa.s.sionately.

Johnny stared at him puzzled.

"Hold on!" he called, after a moment. "Then you're not a friend of this Hound?"

The stranger turned in slow surprise.

"Me? What are you talking about?" He looked from one to the other of us, then returned the few steps he had taken. "I believe you don't know me.

I'm Randall, Danny Randall."

"Yes?" puzzled Johnny.

"Of Sonoma," added Randall.

"I suppose I should know you, but I'm afraid I don't," confessed Johnny.

Randall turned back to the tree beneath which lay our effects.

"I believe I'll just have a cup of coffee with you boys," said he.

We blew up the fire, scoured the frying pan, made ourselves food.

Randall brought a pail of water. We all ate together, without much conversation; then lit our pipes and piled on dry wood to make a brighter friendship fire.

"Now, boys," said Randall, "I'm going to ask you some questions; and you can answer me or not, just as you please. Only I'll say, it isn't just curiosity."

Johnny, who was studying him covertly from beneath the shadow of his hat, nodded briefly, but said nothing.

"How long have you been in the mines?"

"Since March."

"Since March!" echoed Randall, as though a little bewildered at this reply. "Yet you never heard----What camp?"

Johnny studied a while.

"Hangman's Gulch for six weeks," said he. "Then just prospecting."

"Where?"

"I don't believe I'll answer that question," replied Johnny slowly.

"But somewhere back in the hills?" persisted Randall.

"Somewhere back in the hills," agreed Johnny.

"Seems to me----" I broke in, but Johnny silenced me with a gesture. He was watching Randall intently, and thinking hard.

"Then you have been out of it for three months or so. That explains it.

Now I don't mind telling you I came up here this evening to size you up.

I heard about your row with Scar-face Charley, and I wanted to see whether you were just another fighting desperado or an honest man. Well, I'm satisfied. I'm not going to ask you if you have much gold with you, for you wouldn't tell me; but if you have, keep it with you. If you don't, you'll lose it. Keep in the middle of the road, and out of dark places. This is a tough camp; but there are a lot of us good men, too, and my business is to get us all to know each other. Things are getting bad, and we've got to get together. That's why I came up to see you. Are you handy with a gun?" he asked abruptly.

"Fair," said Johnny.

"You need to be. Let's see if you are. Stand up. Try to get the draw on me. Now!"

Johnny reached for his pistol, but before his hand was fairly on the b.u.t.t, Randall had thrust the muzzle of a small revolver beneath his nose. His pale blue eyes had lit with concentration, his bleached eyebrows were drawn together. For an instant the thought flashed across my mind that this was a genuine hold-up; and I am sure Johnny caught the same suspicion, for his figure stiffened. Then Randall dropped his hand.

"Very pretty," said Johnny coolly. "How did you do that? I didn't catch your motion."

"From the sleeve," said Randall. "It's difficult, but it's pretty, as you say; and if you learn to draw from the sleeve, I'll guarantee you'll get the draw on your man every time."

"Show me," said Johnny simply.

"That gun of yours is too big; it's a holster weapon. Here, take this."

He handed Johnny a beautifully balanced small Colt's revolver, engraved, silver-plated, with polished rosewood handles. This he showed Johnny how to stow away in the sleeve, how to arrange it, how to grasp it, and the exact motion in s.n.a.t.c.hing it away.

"It takes practice, lots of it, and then more of it," said Randall.

"It's worse than useless unless you get it just right. If you made a mistake at the wrong time, the other man would get you sure."

"Where can I get one of these?" asked Johnny.

"Good!" Randall approved his decision. "You see the necessity. You can't. But a derringer is about as good, and Jones has them for sale.

Now as for your holster gun: the whole trick of quick drawing is to throw your right shoulder forward and _drag_ the gun from the holster with one forward sweep. Don't lift it up and out. This way!" He snapped his hand past his hip and brought it away armed.

"Pretty," repeated Johnny.

"Don't waste much powder and ball shooting at a mark," advised Randall.

"It looks nice to cut out the ace of hearts at ten yards, but it doesn't mean much. If you can shoot at all, you can shoot straight enough to hit a man at close range. Practise the draw." He turned to me. "You'd better practise, too. Every man's got to take care of himself these days. But you're not due for trouble same as your friend is."

"I'm obliged to you," said Johnny.

"You are not. Now it's up to you. I judged you didn't know conditions here, and I thought it only right to warn you. There's lots of good fellows in this camp; and some of the hard cases are a pretty good sort.

Just keep organized, that's all."

"Now I wonder who Danny Randall is!" speculated Johnny after our visitor had departed. "He talked as though we ought to know all about it. I'm going to find out the first fellow I get acquainted with."