in camp, but I don't seem to hear any
bright suggestions goin' around now. You start this gorl-durned racket
like a pack o' weak-headed fools, yearnin' to pitch away what's been
chucked right into your fool laps jest fer one o' Blue Grass Pete's
fat-head notions. Well, wot's doin'? I ask."

"You ke'p that ugly map o' yours closed," cried Pete hotly. "_You_
ain't bein' robbed any."

"Guess I'll see to that," retorted Beasley, with a grin. "The feller
that robs me'll need to chew razors fer a pastime. If it comes to that
you're yearnin' fer glory at the Padre's expense--as usual."

Buck's ears tingled, and he drew closer. Beasley always had a knack of
so blending truth with his personal venom that it stung far more than
downright insult. He wondered what the Padre's generosity had been,
and wherein lay its connection with their present purpose. The
explanation was not long in coming, for Montana Ike took up the
challenge amidst a storm of ominous murmurs from the gathered men.

"Don't take nuthin' from him," cried the youngster scornfully. Then he
turned on Beasley fiercely. "You need Buck around to set you right,
Mister Lousy Beasley," he cried. "We ain't robbin' anybody, an' sure
not the Padre. He found that nugget, an' it's his to give or do wot he
likes with. The gal brought us the luck, an' the Padre guessed it was
only right she should have the first find. That nugget was the first
find, an' the Padre found it. Wal!" But as no reply was forthcoming he
hurried on, turning his tongue loose in the best abuse he could
command at the moment. "You're a rotten sort o' skunk anyway, an' you
ain't got a decent thought in your diseased head. I'd like to say
right here that you hate seein' a sixty-ounce lump o' gold in any
other hands than your own dirty paws. That's your trouble, so jest
shut right up while better folks handles a matter wot's a sight too
delicate fer a rotten mind like yours."

The smile had returned to every face except the foxy features of the
ex-Churchman, who for once had no adequate retort ready. Curly
Saunders nodded appreciation, and helped to solve the momentary
dilemma prevailing.

"That's sure done it fer you, Montana," he cried gleefully. "You make
the presentation. I'd say I never heard so elegant a flow of argyment
in this yer camp. You'll talk most pretty to the leddy."

"An' it ain't fer me to say I can't do it if need be, neither," said
Montana modestly. "Don't guess it's much of a stu