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Updated: June 11, 2025
As poor Tom Brixton once said in a moment of confidence to his friend Westly, while excusing himself for so frequently going on prospecting expeditions to Bevan's Gully, "There's no question about it, Fred; she's the sweetest girl in Oregon pshaw! in the world, I should have said.
With this parting piece of advice Flinders left the prisoner, locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and went straight to Fred Westly, whom he found seated beside the fire with his face buried in his hands. "If Tom told you he wouldn't attempt to escape," said Westly, on hearing the details of all that his eccentric friend had done, "you may be sure that he'll stick to it."
I do believe it's Mahoghany Drake himself!" Tolly did not reply, for he had run eagerly forward to meet the trapper, having already recognised him. "His name is a strange one," remarked Fred Westly, gazing steadily at the man as he approached. "Drake is his right name," explained Bevan, "an' Mahoghany is a handle some fellers gave him 'cause he's so much tanned wi' the sun.
Close to the track they were following were seen four men busily engaged in making arrangements to encamp for the night. It need scarcely be said that these were our friends Paul Bevan, Fred Westly, Flinders, and the botanist.
Gashford was the last to come up, with the exception of Paddy Flinders. The bully came forward, fuming with rage, and strode up to Fred Westly with a threatening look. "You were at the bottom of this!" he cried, doubling his huge fist. "It was you who cut the rope, for no mortal man could have untied it!" "Indeed I did not!" replied Fred, with a steady but not defiant look.
"No mistake about that!" muttered Bill, as he ran out on his errand. "Now foller!" cried Flinders, catching up a bit of rope with one hand and a billet of firewood with the other, as he dashed out of the hut and made straight for the prison, with Gashford and Westly close at his heels.
"Musha! but that is a quare sound," whispered Flinders to Westly. "Hush!" returned Westly. At a signal from their chief the whole band of Indians sank, as it seemed, into the ground, melted off the face of the earth, and only the white men and the chief remained. "I must go forward alone," whispered Unaco, turning to Paul. "White man knows not how to go on his belly like the serpent."
"What do you mean by the thief?" asked Fred Westly, with misgiving at his heart. "I mean your chum, Tom Brixton," shouted the enraged miner. "How do you know he's a thief?" asked Westly. "I didn't come here to be asked questions by you," said Gashford. "Where has he gone to, I say?" "I don't know." "That's a lie!" roared the miner, clenching his fist in a threatening manner. "Poor Tom!
An' you needn't be too soft, Westly," he added, with a cynical smile. "Your chum has Well, it's no business o' mine. You can go to him." Poor Tom Brixton started as his old friend went up to him, and then hung his head. "Dear Tom," said Fred, in a low voice, "don't give way to despair.
I've hastened ahead to tell you. I'd have been here sooner but but I'm starving." "Eat, then eat before you speak, Mr Westly," said Betty, placing food before him. "But the matter is urgent!" cried Fred. "Hold on, Mr Fred," said Paul; "did you an' the enemy whoever he may be, though I've a pretty fair guess start to come here together?" "Within the same hour, I should think."
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