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Them rocks were rollin' all right, only it was the weatherin' of the cliffs. "An' there under the crags was a gold pocket. "Then I was worse than locoed. I went gold-crazy. I worked like seventeen burros. Bill, I dug a lot of goldbearin' quartz. Bonita watched the trails for me, brought me water. That was how she come to get caught by Pat Hawe an' his guerrillas. Sure!
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