The Man from Bar-20
butt th' dirt off'n a million dollar nugget. I got a notion to do it anyhow."
"You needn't get no notions!" retorted Johnny. "I'm goin' to hog it. Prospectors never get grubstaked unless they're busted; an' I ain't got there yet. Oh, yes; I got to get them fishhooks—you see, I ain't aimin' to cripple my back workin' hard all th' time. I'll fill a sack in th' mornin', eat my dinner an' rest all afternoon. Next day I'll fill another sack, an' so on. Now, what am I goin' to get for my outfit? I'll need a lot of things."
"Go see Charley James, acrost th' street. He keeps th' general store; an' he's got more trash than anybody I ever saw."
"Mebby he can tell me what I need," suggested Johnny, hopefully.
As Pop started to answer, the doorway darkened and a man stepped into the room. Pop's face paled and he swiftly moved to one side, out of range. The newcomer glanced at Johnny, swore under his breath and his hand streaked to his holster. It remained there, for he discovered that he was glaring squarely down a revolver barrel.
"Let loose of it!" snapped Johnny. "Now, then: What's eatin' you?"
"Why—why, I mistook you for somebody else!" muttered the other. "Comin' in from th' sunlight, sud-
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