Put it
there!"--extending a brawny paw, which closed over the minister's small
hand and gave it a shake indicative of fraternal sympathy and fervent
gratification.
"Now we're all right, pard. Let's start fresh. Don't you mind my
snuffling a little--becuz we're in a power of trouble. You see, one of
the boys has gone up the flume--"
"Gone where?"
"Up the flume--throwed up the sponge, you understand."
"Thrown up the sponge?"
"Yes--kicked the bucket--"
"Ah--has departed to that mysterious country from whose bourne no
traveler returns."
"Return! I reckon not. Why pard, he's dead!"
"Yes, I understand."
"Oh, you do? Well I thought maybe you might be getting tangled some
more. Yes, you see he's dead again--"
"Again? Why, has he ever been dead before?"
"Dead before? No! Do you reckon a man has got as many lives as a cat?
But you bet you he's awful dead now, poor old boy, and I wish I'd never
seen this day. I don't want no better friend than Buck Fanshaw.
I knowed him by the back; and when I know a man and like him, I freeze to
him--you hear me. Take him all round, pard, there never was a bullier
man in the mines. No man ever knowed Buck Fanshaw to go back on a
friend. But it's all up, you know, it's all up. It ain't no use.
They've scooped him.
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