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Updated: May 29, 2025
From the camp arose a babel of uproar, men shouting against each other, curses and threats alike aimed broadcast. And impatient of the delay, small groups straggled into the grove to wait, Stumpy's party first, their leader striving fiercely to quiet their noise.
The men who were in the habit of lounging in at Stumpy's to see "how 'The Luck' got on" seemed to appreciate the change, and in self-defense the rival establishment of "Tuttle's grocery" bestirred itself and imported a carpet and mirrors. The reflections of the latter on the appearance of Roaring Camp tended to produce stricter habits of personal cleanliness.
"No, you needn't answer," he made steady reply. "But you've nothing to be ashamed about. Stumpy's an awful ass, you know, always has been. He's been head over heels in love with you ever since he met you. No, you needn't let that shock you. He's such a bashful knight he'll never tell you so. You'll have to do that part of it." He smiled with faint irony. "But you may take my word for it, it is so.
Mebbe they won't be so lonesome with us as they'd be somewheres else, bein's as our shanty's so nigh MacPhairrson's bridge they kin see for themselves all the time there ain't no one on to the island any more!" "Stumpy's not spoken for!" reminded the Boy. The dog was popular, and half a dozen volunteered for him at once. "Mike gits the dawg!" decided the Boss, to head off arguments.
On the surface he was cool and unruffled. He stopped for a moment at the railroad tracks to talk with Stumpy Gans, the one-legged gateman. The little bell above Stumpy's shanty was ringing its warning, so he strolled leisurely over to the depot platform to see the 7:15 come in from Chicago. When the train pulled out Buzz went on down the street.
Aaron Woodward also guessed such to be a fact was proven by the words that followed Stumpy's statement. "Lost the money?" he ejaculated. "Do you expect me to believe you, sir?" "It's true." "Nonsense, sir. Jack Fer " "Sh!" "John Stumpy isn't the one to lose over two hundred dollars!" "Just what I always said myself, partner, and " "Don't 'partner me, sir!"
In vain, for some seconds, he struggled to down the lump in his throat. Then, with a titanic effort, he blurted out: "Oh, hell, boys!" and sat down, and hid his wet eyes in Stumpy's shaggy hair. On Big Lonely
Certainly every word which Leopold had uttered was strictly and literally true; but Stumpy's deception was as complete as though it had been brought about by a lie. The money-digger was not quite satisfied with himself, though he had an undoubted right to "keep his own counsel," if he chose to do so. But while he was thus bothered about the situation, his friend changed the topic.
A moment of frightful silence followed, for the speakers felt the same mysterious hand that had reached for and grasped their leader. One by one they dropped in their tracks, smitten none knew how or whence; and even Pearse, with Stumpy's band, shivered at the terrible uncanniness of it.
The shouting and yelling, which had gained the camp its infelicitous title, were not permitted within hearing distance of Stumpy's. The men conversed in whispers or smoked with Indian gravity. Profanity was tacitly given up in these sacred precincts, and throughout the camp a popular form of expletive, known as "D n the luck!" and "Curse the luck!" was abandoned, as having a new personal bearing.
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