frequently sober, an' when he wasn't he'd only stand off an' swear at th' slide."
"That's Aristotle, all hunk. He's th' chap that used to play checkers with Deacon Rawlins. They used empty an' loaded shells for men, an' when they got a king they'd lay one on its side. Sometimes they'd jar th' board an' they'd all be kings an' then they'd have a cussin' match," replied Hopalong, once more restored to good humor.
"Why," responded Jimmy, "he counted his wealth over twice by mistake an' shore raised a howl when he went to blow it—thought he's been robbed, an' laid behind th' houses fer a week lookin' fer th' feller that done it."
"I've heard of that cuss—he shore was th' limit. What become of him?" asked the miner.
"He ambled up to Laramie an' stuck his head in th' window of that joint by th' plaza an' hollered 'Fire,' an' they did. He was shore a good feller, all th' same," answered the bartender.
Hopalong laughed and started for the door. Turning around he looked at his miner friend and asked: "Comin' along? I'm goin' back now."
"Nope. Reckon I'll hit th' tiger a whirl. I'll stop in when I passes."
"All right. So long," replied Hopalong, slipping out of the door and watching for trouble. There was no opposition shown him, and he arrived at his claim to find Jake in a heated argument with another of the gang.
"Here he comes now," he said as Hopalong walked up. "Tell him what yu said to me."
"I said yu made a mistake," said the other, turning to the cowboy in a half apologetic manner.
"An' what else?" insisted Jake.
"Why, ain't that all?" asked the claim-jumper's friend in feigned surprise, wishing that he had kept quiet.
