uple of years; an' back here the old woman got kind of feeble an' on
her uppers, an there was hell to pay, an'--"

"Wot's bitin' youse, Nan?" The Pug's lisping whisper broke sharply in
upon Pinkie Bonn's story.

Rhoda Gray started. She was conscious now that she had been leaning
forward, staring in a startled way at Pinkie as he talked; conscious now
that for a moment she had forgotten--that she was Gypsy Nan. But she was
mistress of herself on the instant, and she scowled blackly at the Pug.

"Mabbe it's me soft heart dat's touched!" she flung out acidly. "Youse
close yer trap, an' let Pinkie talk!"

"Yes, shut up!" said Pinkie. "What was I sayin'? Oh, yes! An' then the
old guy makes a strike. Can you beat it! I dunno nothing about the way
they pull them things, but he's off by his lonesome out somewhere, an'
he finds gold, an' stakes out his claim, but he takes sick again an'
can't work it, an' it's all he can do to get back alive to civilization.
He keeps his mouth shut for a while, figurin' he'll get strong again,
but it ain't no good, an' he gets a letter from the old woman tellin'
how bad she is, an' then he shows some of the stuff he'd found. After
that there's nothing to it! Everybody's beatin' it for the place; but,
at that, old Dainey comes out of it all right, an' goes crazy with joy
'cause some guy offers him twenty-five thousand bucks for his claim, an'
throws in the expenses home for good luck. He gets the money in cash,
twenty-five one-thousand-dollar bills, an' the chicken feed for the
expenses, an' starts for back here an' the old woman. But this time he
don't keep his mouth shut about it when he'd have been better off if he
had. See? He was tellin' about it on the train. I guess he was tellin'
about it all the way across. But, anyway, he tells about it comm' from
Philly this afternoon, an' French Pete an' Marny Day happens to be on
the train, an' they hears it, an' frames it up to annex the coin before
morning, 'cause he's got in too late to get the money into any bank
to-day."

Pinkie Bonn paused, and stuck his tongue significantly in his cheek.

Shluker was rubbing his hands together now in a sort of unctuous way.

"It sounds pretty good," he murmured; "only there's Danglar--"

"Youse leave Danglar to me!" broke in the Pug. "As soon as we hands one
to dem two boobs an' gets de cash, Pinkie can beat it back here wid de
coin an wait fer me while I finds Danglar an' squares it wid him. He
ain't