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"It isn't everybody who, like you, would stick by his employer at the risk of his neck." "You is more dan my employer, py chiminy, you voss mein friendt," exclaimed Geisler. "I aindt forgot it dot time dat no vun vouldt gif me a chob pecos dey dink I been vun pig vool. Vot didt you do, den? You proved yourself anudder fooll py gifing me a chob. Dink you, den, I run from dis, my dearie-o?
Maybe I try to take advantage of you and show you what dey call fools gold what mineralogists call pyrites of iron? No? It aindt dat? Vell, let me ask you vun question den am I righd or am I wrong?" "You're right, old man," returned Denver eagerly as he held a specimen to the light; and when he looked up Bunker Hill was gone.
All this time Geisler had been examining "Mr. Allen's" horse with a singular expression. As the miner owner vanished in the direction of the stable, he spoke: "Dot poor horse of yours vos aboudt tuckered in, aindt it?" he inquired. "Yes, poor brute," rejoined Bob Harding, "I rode at a furious pace."
"Did you ever have a tree burn up in your head?" he asked. "Pring a policeman," whispered Schmidt to the girl, "and a doctor. De man is grazy mit fevers; he aindt trunk." When the officer came in Harold looked at him with sternly steady eyes. "See here, cap, don't you try any funny business with me. I won't stand it; I'll shoot with you for dollars or doughnuts."
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