ular morning which saw Scrabblegrab the only worker at
Blugsey's, the remaining miners were assembled in solemn conclave at
Stumpy Fluke's saloon, to determine what was to be done with the
detested man.

The scene was certainly an impressive one; for such quiet had not been
known at the saloon since the few moments which intervened between the
time, weeks before, when Broadhorn Jerry gave the lie to Captain Greed,
and the captain, whose pistol happened to be unloaded, was ready to
proceed to business.

The average miner, when sober, possesses a degree of composure and
gravity which would be admirable even in a judge of ripe experience, and
miners, assembled as a deliberative body, can display a dignity which
would drive a venerable Senator or a British M.P. to the uttermost
extreme of envy.

On the occasion mentioned above, the miners ranged themselves near the
unoccupied walls, and leaned at various graceful and awkward angles.
Boston Ben, who was by natural right the ruler of the camp, took the
chair--that is, he leaned against the centre of the bar. On the other
side of the bar leaned Stumpy Flukes, displaying that degree of
conscious importance which was only becoming to a man who, by virtue of
his position, was sole and perpetual secretary and recorder to all
stated meetings at Blugsey's.

Boston Ben glanced around the room, and then collectively announced the
presence of a quorum, the formal organization of the meeting, and its
readiness for deliberation, by quietly remarking:

"Blaze away!"

Immediately one of the leaners regained the perpendicular, departed a
pace from the wall, rolled his tobacco neatly into one cheek, and
remarked:

"We've stood it long enough--the bottom's clean out of the pan, Mr.
Chairman. Scrabblegrab's declined bitters from half the fellers in camp,
an' though his gray old topknot's kept 'em from takin' satisfaction in
the usual manner, they don't feel no better 'bout it than they did."

The speaker subsided into his section of wall, composed himself into his
own especial angles, and looked like a man who had fully discharged a
conscientious duty.

From the opposite wall there appeared another speaker, who indignantly
remarked:

"Goin' back on bitters ain't a toothful to what he's done. There's young
Curly, that went last week. That boy played his hand in a style that
would take the conceit clean out uv an angel. But all to onct Curly took
to lookin' flaxed, an' the judge he