The Young Explorer Part 22

"That is something. Do you think you could find him?"

"I could try, miss,"

"I am going to send out Ben, but he is only a boy. I should like to have you go with him. You know the country, and he does not.

Besides, you have seen Mr. Dewey."

"Yes, I should know him ag'in if I met him."

"How did he seem when you knew him?" asked Ida, hesitating, because conscious that the question was vaguely expressed and might not be understood.

"He was a quiet, sober chap, workin' early and late," answered Jake, who, rough as he was, comprehended the drift of her questions. "He wasn't exactly pop'lar with the boys, because he wouldn't drink with 'em, and that made them think he was proud, or grudged the expense."

"They were very greatly mistaken," said Ida hastily.

"We found that out," said the miner. "A young chap fell sick; he was a newcomer and had neither friends nor money, and was pretty bad off. Dewey sat up with him night after night, and gave him fifty dollars when he got well to help him back to 'Frisco. You see, his sickness made him tired of the mines."

"That was like Richard," said Ida softly. "He was always kind-hearted."

"After that," continued Jake, "none of us had a word to say agin'

him. We knowed him better, and we liked him for his kindness to that young chap."

If Jake Bradley had sought to commend himself to Ida Sinclair, he could not have found a better or more effectual way than by praising her lover. She became more cordial at once, and better satisfied with the arrangement she had formed to send off the ex-miner in Ben's company in search of her lover.

The arrangements were speedily made. The two were to start out, equipped at Miss Sinclair's expense, on an exploring-tour, the main object being to find Richard Dewey, and apprise him of her arrival in California. They were permitted, however, to work at mining, wherever there was a favorable opportunity, but never to lose sight of the great object of their expedition. From time to time, as they had opportunity, they were to communicate with Miss Sinclair, imparting any information they might have gathered.

"I shall have to leave much to your discretion," said Ida, addressing them both. "I know absolutely nothing of the country, and you, Mr. Bradley, are tolerably familiar with it. I have only to add that should you become unfortunate, and require more money, you have only to let me know. In any event, I shall take care to recompense you for all your efforts in my behalf."

"We don't want to bear too heavy on your purse, miss," said Jake Bradley. "Once we get to the mines, we kin take care of ourselves.

Can't we, Ben?"

"I hope so, Mr. Bradley."

Bradley eyed Ben reproachfully, and our hero at once smilingly corrected himself. "I mean Jake."

"That suits me better. I s'pose the young lady wouldn't like to call me Jake?"

"I think not," said Ida, smiling.

"I ain't used to bein' called mister. The boys always called me Jake."

"But I am not one of the boys, Mr. Bradley," said Miss Sinclair.

"Right you are, miss, and I reckon Richard Dewey would rather have you as you are."

Ida laughed merrily. To her the miner was a new character, unlike any she had ever met, and though rough and unconventional, she was disposed to like him.

"Find him for me, and you can ask him the question if you like. Tell him from me-but you must first know me by my real name."

Ben looked surprised. He had forgotten that Ida Sinclair was only a.s.sumed to elude the vigilance of her guardian.

"My real name is Florence Douglas. I am of Scotch descent, as you will judge. Can you remember the name?"

"I can, Cousin Ida-I mean Cousin Florence," said Ben.

"Then let Ida Sinclair be forgotten. Richard--Mr. Dewey-would not know me by that name."

"I tell you, Ben, that gal's a trump!" said Jake Bradley enthusiastically, when they were by themselves; "and so I'll tell d.i.c.k Dewey when I see him."

"She's been a kind friend to me, Jake. I hope we can find Mr. Dewey for her."

"We'll find him if he's in California," answered Jake.

CHAPTER XIV

THE CANON HOTEL.

Late in the afternoon of the third day subsequent a man and a boy might have been seen riding slowly through a rocky canon probably eighty miles west from San Francisco. Both were mounted on the small native horses of California, generally called mustangs. These animals possess a strength disproportioned to their size, and show great endurance. At times they have a playful habit of bucking, not quite agreeable to an inexperienced horseman.

The reader will already have guessed that the two riders are Jake Bradley and Ben. The mustangs were on a walk, being apparently weary with the day's tramp.

"Well, Ben," said Bradley, "what do you say to camping out for the night?"

"I have no objection," said Ben, "and I don't think my horse has."

"He is better off than mine, having less to carry. Are you tired?"

"Not very tired, but my limbs are rather stiff."

"What hotel shall we put up at, Ben?" asked Bradley, with a humorous glance about him.

"There isn't much choice," said Ben. "The Canon Hotel seems to be the only one that is open hereabouts. The only objection is, that we shall have to sleep on the floor, with the windows all open."

"That's about so, Ben," a.s.sented Bradley, laughing. "I shouldn't mind sleeping in a Christian bed to-night myself. Well, here goes!"

As he spoke, he jumped from the back of his horse, and, taking out a rope, tethered it to a tree hard by.

Ben followed his example.

"Now for the grub," said Bradley. "I'm powerfully empty myself. This ridin' all day up and down hill is wearin' to the stomach. What do you say?"

"I've got a healthy appet.i.te myself, Jake."

"This yere Canon Hotel that you was talkin' about ain't first-cla.s.s.

It don't supply anything but cold victuals. Now, ef we had a cup of coffee to wash it down, and kinder warm us up, it would go to the right spot, eh, Ben?"