Bob signalled him.
"John!" he called, "come here! I want to talk with you!"
The stately, beautiful horse turned without any apparent guiding motion
from his master, stepped the intervening space and stopped. California
John swung from the saddle. Star, his head high, his nostril wide, his
eye fixed vaguely on some distant vision, stood like an image.
"I want a good talk with you," repeated Bob.
They sat on the same log whereon Oldham and Bob had conferred.
"John," said Bob, "Oldham has been here, and I don't know what to do."
California John listened without a single word of comment while Bob
detailed all the ins and outs of the situation. When he had finished,
the old man slowly drew forth his pipe, filled it, and lit it.
"Son," said he, "I'm an old man, and I've lived in this state since the
early gold days. That means I've seen a lot of things. In all that time
the two most valuable idees I've dug up are these: in the first place,
it don't never do to go off half-cock; and in the second place, if you
want to know about a thing, go to headquarters for it."
He removed his pipe and blew a cloud.
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