“Let’s all quit work. I’ll not strike another stroke for the likes of ’im,” said Denny Colby.
“Say, aren’t you the fellow that took care of this skunk when he was hurt?” asked Cal.
“Yes,” tersely replied Phil.
“Well, you’d better git up and dust, you miserable apology for a man!” cried Cal, indignantly turning to Sam.
“And he made out that you had skipped the country, and that he bought the claim, so that you needn’t go dead broke. If he don’t leave it’s a necktie party we’ll be havin’!” added Denny Colby.
“Oh, let him alone, boys; he isn’t worth the rope it would take to hang him; upon my word I pity him, he is so contemptible that I don’t think he can enjoy his own company,” drawled Phil lazily.
Sam limped away unmolested, cursing wildly as far as they could hear him.
Phil turned from looking after him, and said to the men, “It makes me feel pretty sore, but I guess that he feels worse’n I do,” he added philosophically. After a few minutes he continued, “You might as well knock off for the rest of the day, I don’t suppose he will give me any trouble because he knows that I have the papers to prove my right. I’ll square whatever wages is coming to you as soon as I get things in good shape.”
A hearty grasp of the hand, and a ready acquiescence sealed the compact.
Phil swung himself down the mountain side in a much more joyous mood than when ascending.