The country through which the Cooper party were now travelling was partially wooded. Soon, however, they would reach the long and barren stretch of country—the great salt plain—which was the dread of all overland parties. Then there would be no woods till they approached the borders of the Golden State.

About the middle of the afternoon, while the oxen were plodding along at the rate of barely two miles an hour, they received a surprise.

Tom Cooper, whose eyes were the sharpest, called out suddenly:

“Look there!”

Grant looked, but had to approach nearer before he could realize the situation. Then he saw a white man tied to a slender tree, while half a dozen Indians were dancing round him, uttering a series of guttural cries, which appeared to fill the captive with intense dread. It was too far to distinguish the features of the prisoner, but when they came nearer Tom cried out, “Dang me, if it aint Silverthorn!”

It was indeed Dionysius Silverthorn, and his plight was certainly a serious one.

“What shall we do?” asked Grant.

“We must rescue him,” answered Tom. “He’s a mean rascal, and he’s repaid our hospitality by robbing us; but we can’t let him be killed by those redskins.”

“I’m with you!” said Grant.

By this time the Indians had caught sight of the approaching party. They ceased dancing and appeared to be conferring together. When Silverthorn saw that some of his own color were at hand he uttered a loud cry, and would have stretched out his hands if they had not been fettered.

“Help me! help me!” he cried. “Save me from these fiends!”

The Indians—six in number—seeing that there were but three in the approaching party, took courage and decided to maintain their ground. They uttered, a yell and fired a volley of arrows, one of which whizzed by Grant’s ear.

Tom Cooper gritted his teeth.

“We’ll teach them a lesson,” he said.

He raised his rifle, and, aiming at the foremost Indian, fired deliberately. The redskin fell, pierced to the heart.

This appeared to strike his companions with dismay. They seemed panic-stricken, as well they might be, for the bows and arrows with which they were armed were no match for the rifles of the little party opposed to them. One of them raised his arm and uttered a few words; these were of course unintelligible to Grant and his companions, but their sense became apparent when he pointed to the dead Indian, and, with one of his companions, lifted him from the ground and began to beat a retreat.

“They won’t trouble us any more, Grant,” said Tom. “They are going away. But we had better keep on the watch, for they are a crafty race, and may meditate some treachery.”

When they were beyond bowshot, Tom led the way to the spot where Mr. Silverthorn was eagerly awaiting deliverance from his uncomfortable position.

“Well,” said Tom, taking a position where he had a good view of the captive, “what have you got to say for yourself?”

“Oh, please release me, Mr. Tom!” said Dionysius, in a pleading tone.

“Why should I? What claim have you on me?”

“The claim of humanity. You’ve no idea what I have suffered in the last hour.”

“First, I want you to explain why you stole my horse.”

“You’ve got him back,” said Silverthorn, who could see old Dobbin browsing beside the wagon.

“Yes; but no thanks to you.”

“Indeed, I only meant to borrow him for a while.”

“And you borrowed Grant’s money in the same way, I suppose.”

“Put yourself in my place, Mr. Tom. I was penniless and destitute. How could I make my way alone through this wilderness?”

“So you robbed your benefactors! I take no stock in your story that you only meant to borrow the horse. Now own up, make a clean breast of it, and it will be the better for you.”

“I meant some time to pay you for him; indeed I did. I knew that if I got to the mines I would soon be in a position to pay all my debts, and I should have regarded that as a debt of honor.”

“The less you say about honor the better, it strikes me, Mr. Silverthorn.”

“Please release me! I have been in this unhappy confinement for more than an hour.”

Tom approached the tree and, drawing out a formidable looking jack-knife, sundered the cords that bound the captive, and he stepped forth, stretching himself with a sigh of relief.

“Permit me to express my thanks, my friend and benefactor!” he cried, sinking on his knees and grasping Tom’s hand, which he pressed to his lips.

Tom pulled it away with a look of disgust.

“I have no confidence in you,” he said. “I know how you treat your friends and benefactors.”

“I have indeed done wrong,” said Dionysius. “I am a weak, fallible man, but I never will wrong you again.”

“I don’t think you will, for I shall not give you a chance. Now tell me the truth about the horse. How did he escape from you?”

“I got off his back a moment, and he immediately turned and galloped away.”

“You pursued him, of course?”

“A little way,” answered Mr. Silverthorn, coughing apologetically; “but I soon gave it up. I said to myself, ‘He will seek his owner, and I shall be saved from committing a sin.’“

Tom Cooper laughed.

“You were resigned because you had to be,” he said. “Now, about Grant’s money! Have you got it?”

“No; the Indians robbed me of it.”

“When did you meet the Indians?”

“It may have been two hours ago. I have no watch, and can only estimate the time.”

“Did they attack you?”

“They ran up and seized me. I stood still, for I knew that if I ran they would pierce me with an arrow.”

“Well?”

“When they caught me they searched my pockets and took the silver. Then I was glad that I had taken no more.”

“That is, you would rather Grant would keep his money than have the Indians get it.”

“Yes, Mr. Tom,” answered Silverthorn meekly. “It went to my heart to rob the boy, for he looked so much like my lost son. Forgive these tears!” and he drew out the red silk handkerchief, which the Indians had evidently not thought it worth while to take, and wiped his eyes.

“That man disgusts me, Grant,” said Tom. “He seems to have quite an affection for you.”

“It is all on his side,” returned Grant. “I don’t believe he ever had a boy.”

“Well, perhaps not. He seems a natural born liar. But it’s time we were pushing on. We have a long distance still before us.”

The wagon was put in motion, and the little procession started. Mr. Cooper drove the oxen, Mrs. Cooper sat inside the wagon, Tom led the horse, and Grant walked alongside. Sometimes Tom took his turn in driving the oxen, and sometimes Grant led the horse.

Dionysius Silverthorn started also, walking beside Grant.

Tom turned upon him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I will walk along with you, if you will let me, Mr. Tom.”

“I think you’ve got more cheek than any man I know. After the trick you played upon us, you expect us to tolerate your presence.”

“Please let me accompany you, Mr. Tom. I might meet the Indians again.”

“Then go in a different direction. You cannot go with us.”

Mr. Silverthorn produced his red handkerchief, and rubbed his eyes again.

“It is a hard, cold world!” he said. “I am a very unfortunate man.”

“Perhaps you are; but I don’t think you deserve to be very fortunate. Just make up your mind that you are not going to travel with us. Had you behaved honorably, and not repaid kindness by theft, we would have allowed you to remain with us for a time; but now it is impossible.”

“I shall starve, and be found a wretched corpse by the wayside,” moaned Dionysius.

“Let him have some provisions, Tom,” said Mrs. Cooper, who was naturally compassionate. She had given up the idea that he was a truly good man, but she was not willing that he should be left quite unprovided for.

“I will do that,” said Tom.

He made up a small parcel of provisions, and handed them to Dionysius Silverthorn, who sat down on a stump, while the little caravan pushed on.

“That’s the strangest sort of man I ever encountered,” said Tom. “I wonder whether we’ll ever see him again.”