Gold Seekers of '49 Part 7

"Why, the long-nosed man's."

"I'm sure I don't know," answered his father, coolly.

"But that's his name," pursued Charley. "Do you think he's going on our boat?"

"We can't very well stop him, boy," smiled Mr. Adams. "It isn't 'our'

boat, exactly; and he can't do us any harm, anyway. You aren't afraid of him, are you?"

"N--no, not if you aren't," a.s.serted Charley. "But he's no business following us up as he said he would."

"Humph!" again remarked his father. "We can take care of ourselves.

We'll mind our own affairs, and we'll expect him to mind his. If that's his trunk, probably he's only going down-river a way. We won't borrow trouble this early in the game, Charley."

That sounded reasonable, and Charley had a lot of trust in his soldier father. Only--_if_ that trunk belonged to the long-nosed man, and if the long-nosed man was going down to New Orleans with them, and if he boarded the same steamer there, for California, things looked mighty peculiar.

He seemed to be such a mean, obstinate fellow that there was no knowing what he might have up his sleeve.

Mrs. Adams was curious to know the cause of Charley's evident excitement over the trunk.

"Oh, it bears the name Jacobs, dear," explained Mr. Adams, easily.

"Charley has the notion it means that the 'long-nosed man,' as he calls him, is going to California with us."

"Oh, George!" And Charley's mother, too, seemed alarmed. "Do you suppose he is?"

"No, I don't. But we can't stop him, anyway."

"It's queer he'd take this same boat, though. Maybe he's been watching you."

"Oh, pshaw," laughed Mr. Adams. "Don't let's rig up a scarecrow, to spoil our good-byes. Charley and I'll take care of ourselves; won't we, Charley? We'll stick by each other, and other folks can do as they please, as long as they don't interfere. Come on; let's go aboard, and you can see our state-room, and say good-bye there."

Mr. Adams picked up the bundle, and shouldering it led the way up the gangplank. Mrs. Adams followed, and Charley, in his miner's rig, with butcher-knife stuck through his belt, proudly stumped after. He wished that Billy Walker was there, to see. But other people were seeing, anyway.

When they gained the deck, and were pa.s.sing around to the state-room (which was number 19), glancing back Charley saw a darky roustabout heaving the Jacobs trunk on his back, and starting with it for the gangplank. So it came aboard, but of its owner, if he was their Mr.

Jacobs, there was no sign.

Presently the big bell rang vigorously, and the whistle hoa.r.s.ely blew, as signal for all visitors to go ash.o.r.e. Mrs. Adams gave Charley and her husband one final kiss, and Charley added to his return kiss a round hug.

She was such a good woman; he wished that she was going, too. He rather wished that he could stay at home with her; he--he--and he choked. For a moment he almost hated his miner's costume. However----

"Write often, now," she bade, her eyes dewy, as with her they hastened out on deck.

"Yes, we will. And you write often and tell us the news. Send us the papers."

"I will, dear. Now, do be careful."

"Yes. Take care of yourself, too. If you need us, we'll come straight home, won't we, Charley?"

Charley could only nod.

"Hurry, dear, or you'll be left," warned Mr. Adams, anxiously--for already the gangplank ropes had been tautened by the donkey-engine and the plank was trembling to rise. Charley rather wished that she would be left; then she'd have to come with them! Wouldn't that be great!

But she ran down the plank. Then, near the end, she stopped, and called back.

"What's that, dear?" inquired Mr. Adams, and he and Charley listened keenly.

"Have you got the quinine?"

"Yes. Hurry, dear."

"Sure?"

"It's in the trunk. Look out--jump!"

The gangplank was rising, but with a little run Mrs. Adams did jump and landed safely. Charley laughed. They didn't catch his mother--no, siree. And she was the last person to leave the boat.

Up rose the gangplank. The engine bell jangled. The negro roustabouts cast off the bow and stern hawsers from the wharf posts, and scrambled over the gunwale as the _Robert Burns_ began to back out into the stream.

Mrs. Adams waved her handkerchief. Everybody on the wharf waved--mostly handkerchiefs, which were suddenly very popular. The people on board waved back--and they, too, used handkerchiefs pretty generally. Faster and farther backed the _Robert Burns_, until in midcurrent, after describing a great half-circle, she was pointing down stream. The engine bell jangled to stop, and to go ahead--and she was started for New Orleans.

They were off for California!

The levee, with his mother's handkerchief now fading into the whitish blur of other handkerchiefs, drifted behind; Charley took a long breath, straightened his shoulders, stole a glance at his father, who was winking violently in queer fas.h.i.+on, and began to take stock of the other pa.s.sengers. Some were leaving the rail; a number of others already had left it, and were negligently strolling about or seating themselves for comfort. They mostly were men--business men, planters, and the like, traveling down-river on pleasure or errands of importance, and a few miners bound for California. There was no Mr. Jacobs, that Charley knew, among them, and he felt easier. Probably "J. Jacobs" was some other Jacobs, and not the long-nosed man.

"Let's go in and put our room to rights, Charley," proposed Mr. Adams, as the buildings of old St. Louis merged one with another, on the sh.o.r.e line behind.

He briskly limped across the deck, and Charley followed. This would be something to do, at any rate. But as he pa.s.sed the door of the long salon, or lounging room, he glanced in and saw clear to the other end, where there was a bar for sale of liquors. And he was certain that he glimpsed the long-nosed man, just coming from the bar!

Charley's heart fairly skipped a beat. No, he would not say anything to his father, for perhaps he had been mistaken--and what was the sense in being scared? Supposing that was the long-nosed man. He was not bigger or smarter than they, and besides, as Mr. Adams had said, he had a perfect right to travel on the Mississippi River. Everybody used the river, because there were no railroads here. However, it was queer, his choosing this boat.

Charley and his father set their state-room in order, by arranging their clothes and sleeping things.

"You can go out, if you want to, Charley," spoke his father. "I've got a little more to do, yet. Then I'll come, too."

"All right," and away clumped Charley, in his heavy boots. This time he was determined to look in earnest for the long-nosed man. He hoped that he would not find him, but he feared, just the same.

He did not have far to look. The long-nosed man was standing leaning against one side of the doorway of the salon. Yes, it was he, sure enough! He acted as if he was waiting, for when he saw Charley approaching, to pa.s.s, he smiled, and waved genially.

"Well," he greeted, halting Charley. "So proud of your new clothes that you don't recognize old friends, eh? Come here."

Charley boldly walked straight to him. The man's tone made him mad.

"How are you?" answered Charley. "Taking a trip?"

Mr. Jacobs squinted his eyes and wrinkled his long nose cunningly.

"Y--yes," he drawled. "Taking a little trip." His breath smelled of liquor. "Suppose you're going to Californy, to look for that gold mine.

Thought you'd give me the slip, did you?"

"No," said Charley. "We didn't think anything about you, especial."

"Oh, you didn't!" And the long-nosed man spat tobacco juice on the clean deck. "You reckoned on giving me the slip, though. But I've been watching you. Didn't I tell you I was half wild hoss and half alligator?

What's to hinder me from going out to Californy, too?"