Joe's Luck

JOHN CHINAMAN

The two friends felt themselves to be in a serious strait.  The exchange of horses was annoying, but it would only lengthen their journey a little.  The loss of their whole stock of provisions could not so readily be made up.

“I feel holler,” said Joshua.  “I never could do much before breakfast.  I wish I’d eat more supper.  I would have done it, only I was afraid, by the way that skunk pitched into ’em, we wouldn’t have enough to last.”

“You only saved them for him, it seems,” said Joe.  “He has certainly made a poor return for our kindness.”

“If I could only wring his neck, I wouldn’t feel quite so hungry,” said Joshua.

“Or cut his head off with a scythe,” suggested Joe, smiling faintly.

“Danged if I wouldn’t do it,” said Mr. Bickford, hunger making him bloodthirsty.

“We may overtake him, Mr. Bickford.”

“You may, Joe, but I can’t.  He’s left me his horse, which is clean tuckered out, and never was any great shakes to begin with.  I don’t believe I can get ten miles out of him from now till sunset.”

“We must keep together, no matter how slow we go.  It won’t do for us to be parted.”

“We shall starve together likely enough,” said Joshua mournfully.

“I’ve heard that the French eat horse-flesh.  If it comes to the worst, we can kill your horse and try a horse-steak.”

“It’s all he’s fit for, and he ain’t fit for that.  We’ll move on for a couple of hours and see if somethin’ won’t turn up.  I tell you, Joe, I’d give all the money I’ve got for some of marm’s johnny-cakes.  It makes me feel hungrier whenever I think of ’em.”

“I sympathize with you, Joshua,” said Joe.  “We may as well be movin’ on, as you suggest.  We may come to some cabin, or party of travelers.”

So they mounted their beasts and started.  Joe went ahead, for his animal was much better than the sorry nag which Mr. Bickford bestrode.  The latter walked along with an air of dejection, as if life were a burden to him.

“If I had this critter at home, Joe, I’ll tell you what I’d do with him,” said Mr. Bickford, after a pause.

“Well, what would you do with him?”

“I’d sell him to a sexton.  He’d be a first-class animal to go to funerals.  No danger of his runnin’ away with the hearse.”

“You are not so hungry but you can joke, Joshua.”

“It’s no joke,” returned Mr. Bickford.  “If we don’t raise a supply of provisions soon, I shall have to attend my own funeral.  My mind keeps running on them johnny-cakes.”

They rode on rather soberly, for the exercise and the fresh morning air increased their appetites, which were keen when they started.

Mr. Bickford no longer felt like joking, and Joe at every step looked anxiously around him, in the hope of espying relief.

On a sudden, Mr. Bickford rose in his Stirrups and exclaimed in a tone of excitement: 

“I see a cabin!”

“Where?”

“Yonder,” said the Yankee, pointing to a one-story shanty, perhaps a quarter of a mile away.

“Is it inhabited, I wonder?”

“I don’t know.  Let us go and see.”

The two spurred their horses, and at length reached the rude building which had inspired them with hope.  The door was open, but no one was visible.

Joshua was off his horse in a twinkling and peered in.

“Hooray!” he shouted in rejoicing accents.  “Breakfast’s ready.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve found something to eat.”

On a rude table was an earthen platter full of boiled rice and a stale loaf beside it.

“Pitch in, Joe,” said Joshua.  “I’m as hungry as a wolf.”

“This food belongs to somebody.  I suppose we have no right to it.”

“Right be hanged.  A starving man has a right to eat whatever he can find.”

“Suppose it belongs to a fire-eater, or a man from Pike County?”

“We’ll eat first and fight afterward.”

Joe did not feel like arguing the matter.  There was an advocate within him which forcibly emphasized Joshua’s arguments, and he joined in the banquet.

“This bread is dry as a chip,” said Mr. Bickford.  “But no matter.  I never thought dry bread would taste so good.  I always thought rice was mean vittles, but it goes to the right place just now.”

“I wonder if any one will have to go hungry on our account?” said Joe.

“I hope not, but I can’t help it,” returned Mr. Bickford.  “Necessity’s the fust law of nature, Joe.  I feel twice as strong as I did twenty minutes ago.”

“There’s nothing like a full stomach, Joshua.  I wonder to whom we are indebted for this repast?”

Joe was not long in having his query answered.  An exclamation, as of one startled, called the attention of the two friends to the doorway, where, with a terrified face, stood a Chinaman, his broad face indicating alarm.

“It’s a heathen Chinee, by gosh!” exclaimed Joshua.

Even at that time Chinese immigrants had begun to arrive in San Francisco, and the sight was not wholly new either to Joshua or Joe.

“Good morning, John,” said our young hero pleasantly.

“Good morning, heathen,” said Mr. Bickford.  “We thought we’d come round and make you a mornin’ call.  Is your family well?”

The Chinaman was reassured by the friendly tone of his visitors, and ventured to step in.  He at once saw that the food which he had prepared for himself had disappeared.

“Melican man eat John’s dinner,” he remarked in a tone of disappointment.

“So we have, John,” said Mr. Bickford.  “The fact is, we were hungry—­hadn’t had any breakfast.”

“Suppose Melican man eat—­he pay,” said the Chinaman.

“That’s all right,” said Joe; “we are willing to pay.  How much do you want?”

The Chinaman named his price, which was not unreasonable, and it was cheerfully paid.

“Have you got some more bread and rice, John?” asked Mr. Bickford.  “We’d like to buy some and take it along.”

They succeeded in purchasing a small supply—­enough with economy to last a day or two.  This was felt as a decided relief.  In two days they might fall in with another party of miners or come across a settlement.

They ascertained on inquiry that the Chinaman and another of his nationality had come out like themselves to search for gold.  They had a claim at a short distance from which they had obtained a small supply of gold.  The cabin they had found in its present condition.  It had been erected and deserted the previous year by a party of white miners, who were not so easily satisfied as the two Chinamen.

“Well,” said Joshua, after they had started on their way, “that’s the first time I ever dined at a Chinee hotel.”

“We were lucky in coming across it,” said Joe.

“The poor fellow looked frightened when he saw us gobblin’ up his provisions,” said Mr. Bickford, laughing at the recollection.

“But we left him pretty well satisfied.  We didn’t treat him as the gentleman from Pike treated us.”

“No—­I wouldn’t be so mean as that darned skunk.  It makes me mad whenever I look at this consumptive boss he’s left behind.”

“You didn’t make much out of that horse trade, Mr. Bickford.”

“I didn’t, but I’ll get even with him some time if we ever meet again.”

“Do you know where he was bound?”

“No—­he didn’t say.”

“I dare say it’ll all come right in the end.  At any rate, we shan’t starve for the next forty-eight hours.”

So in better spirits the two companions kept on their way.