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Updated: May 9, 2025
"A chain and locket," said the man; "hang you, I see them in your hand now." "Ennybody ken see a chain an' locket in my hand," said Buffle, "but that don't make it yourn." "The locket contains the portrait of a lady, and the inscription 'Frances to Allan' look quick, or I'll shoot!" said the little man, savagely. Buffle opened it, and saw Mrs. Berryn's portrait.
Which went more to the heart on account of his having got wrapped in his blanket as if he was looking out of a violinceller case, until Mr. Buffle says "Robina speak to him!"
"Sir Raffle Buffle has desired your presence, Mr Eames." "My presence, Tupper! what for?" said Johnny, turning upon the messenger, almost with dismay. "Indeed I can't say, Mr Eames; but Sir Raffle Buffle has desired your presence in the Board-room." Such a message as that in official life always strikes awe into the heart of a young man.
Or by the whole infernal system of Taxation of this country and every individual figure in the National Debt, I'll get upon your back and ride you like a horse!" which it's my belief he would have done and even actually jerking his neat little legs ready for a spring as it was. "This," says Mr. Buffle without his pen "is an assault and I'll have the law of you."
They took the hint, and after they were all inside, Sandytop closed the door and the shutters of the unglazed windows. "Thar's my shanty," said Buffle, as they neared it from one side; "that one with two bar'ls fur a chimley. You jest go right in. I'll be thar ez soon ez I put up the hosses." As they reached the front, both men started at the sight of the cradle.
In a shanty of the composite order of architecture it having a foundation of stone, succeeded by logs, a gable of coffin misfits and cracker-boxes, and a roof of bark and canvas Buffle and three other miners were playing "old sledge." The table was an empty pork-barrel; the seats were respectively, a block of wood, a stone, and a raisin-box, with a well-stuffed knapsack for the tallest man.
The painter was at work in his studio, and the private secretary from the Income-tax Office, who was no doubt engaged on some special mission to the West End on the part of Sir Raffle Buffle, was sitting in a lounging-chair and smoking a cigar. "Because I don't go about with my stockings cross-gartered, and do that kind of business?"
Berryn ate from crockery instead of tin, and had a china wash-bowl and pitcher. Little Muggy, who sold out his claim the day after Buffle left, went to San Francisco, but reappeared in camp in a few days, with a large bundle, a handsaw and a plane.
All preserved a respectful silence as Buffle walked from claim to claim, carefully scrutinizing many, and all breathed freer as they saw him and his horse disappear over the hill on the Sonora trail.
Saying which, Buffle hurried out to look for Mrs. Berryn. He soon overtook her, and awkwardly said: "Mum!" She stopped. "Yer don't need to start till after daylight to reach that stage, mum, an' you'd better come back and rest yerself in my shanty till mornin'." "I am very much obliged, sir," she replied, "but " "Don't be afeard, mum," said Buffle, hastily.
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