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Updated: June 29, 2025
The Judge and Bonsor were shouting and gesticulating, Butts answering bitterly but quietly still. His face was pretty grim, but it looked as if he were the one person in the place who hadn't lost his head.
"Didn't he tell you you could keep all the rest o' Lawrence's stuff?" asked the Bonsorite. McGinty disdained to answer this thrust. "But I knows my dooty as City Marshal, and I says, 'No, and Bonsor says, says he, 'If you can't git the idee o' that fifteen hundred dollars out o' your head, I'll git it out fur ye with a bullet, an' he draws on me."
"Guess you got the mate to mine, Bonsor," said a bystander with a laugh, slowly tearing up the communication he had opened with fingers so eager that they shook. "You pay a dollar apiece for letters from folks you never heard of, asking you what you think of the country, and whether you'd advise 'em to come out." "Huh! don't I wish they would!" "It's all right. They will."
Goethe. In a good-sized cabin, owned by Bonsor, down near the A. C., Judge Corey was administering Miners' Law.
The Woodworth gentleman is searched and presently exonerated. Everybody is told of the loss, every nook and corner investigated. Maudie goes down on hands and knees, even creeping behind the bar. "I know'd she go on somethin' awful," said Charlie, so gleefully that Bonsor, the proprietor of the Gold Nugget, began to look upon him with suspicion.
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