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Then his face went scarlet, as a memory occurred to him. "Say, White Point's around the corner. And that's where we'll find that hop-headed agent if he ain't done up. Anyways, if he ain't why, I guess we'll just set him playin' a miser-arey over his miser'ble wires, that'll set 'em diggin' out a funeral hearse and mournin' coaches in that dogasted prairie sepulcher Amberley." Mr.
"Say, Zip orter sure be shot or hanged," he cried angrily, "an' this doggone claim o' mud needs to be boosted through a dogasted volcany an' blowed out the other side o' no sort o' place at all. Ther' sure ain't nuthin' worse in the world than the foolishness of a tow-headed fool." But Bill ignored the outburst. "How much gold you found?" he inquired coldly. Sandy's indignant eyes blazed. "Gold?
"Ther's my bank-book. Ther's seventy odd thousand dollars lyin' in the Spawn City bank to my dogasted credit. See?" He glared; then he drew a step nearer and bent forward. "I'm handin' you a check fer your dust," he went on. "I've seventy thousand dollars says I'm a better man than James an' all his rotten scum, an' that I'm goin' to shoot him to hell before the week's out. Now d'ye get me?"
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