diggin's, an' is
clean busted. But his luck begun to turn this evening, an' here's what
goes for keepin' the ball a-rollin'. Here's my ante;" saying which, he
laid his old hat on the bar, took out his buckskin bag of gold-dust, and
emptied it into the hat.

Bags came out of pockets all around, and were either entirely emptied,
or had their contents largely diminished by knife-blades, which scooped
out the precious dust, and dropped it into the hat.

"There," said Buffle, looking into the hat, "I reckon that'll kerry 'em
back to their folks."

For a fortnight the saloon was as quiet as a well-ordered
prayer-meeting, and it was solemnly decided that no fight with pistols
should take place nearer than The Bend, which was, at least, a mile from
where the new resident's cradle was located.

One pleasant, quiet evening, Buffle, who frequently passed an hour with
Berryn on the latter's woodpile, was seen approaching the saloon with a
very small bundle, which, nevertheless, occupied both his arms and all
his attention.

"It, by thunder," said one. So it was; a wee, pink-faced, blue-eyed,
fuzzy-topped little thing, with one hand frantically clutching three
hairs of Buflle's beard.

"See the little thing pull," said one.

"Is that all the nose they hev at fust?" asked another, seriously.

"Can't yer take them pipes out uv yer mouths when the baby's aroun'?"
indignantly demanded another.

Little Muggy edged his way through the crowd, threw away his quid of
tobacco, took the baby from Buffle, and kissed it a dozen times.

"I'm goin' home, fellers," said Muggy, finally. "I'm wanted by the
lawyers for cuttin' a man that sassed me while I was shoe-makin'. But
I'm a-goin' to see my young uns, even if all creation wants me."

"An' I'm a-goin', too," said Buffle. "I'm wanted pretty bad by some
that's East, but I reckon I'm well enough hid by the bar that's grow'd
sence I wuz a boy, an' dug out from old Varmont. I've had a new taste uv
decency lately, an' I'm goin' to see ef I can't stan' it for a stiddy
diet. The chap over to the shanty sez he ken git me somethin' to do, an'
ennythin's better'n gamblin', drinkin', and fightin'.

"It's agin the law to kerry shootin'-irons there, Buffle," suggested
one.

"Yes, an' they got a new kind uv a law there, to keep a man from takin'
his bitters," said another.

"Yes," said Buffle, "all that's mighty tough, but ef a feller's bound
fur bed-rock, he might ez well git that all uv a s