He burst from the crowd just as Dusty came hurrying across from where he had been digging out ore; and for a minute they stood clamoring, both 48shouting at once, until at last Wunpost seized him by the throat.
“Who’s this old stiff with whiskers?” he yelled into his ear, “that thinks he owns the whole claim? Speak up, or I’ll wring your neck!”
He released his hold and Dusty Rhodes staggered back, while the crowd looked on in alarm.
“W’y, that’s Whiskers,” explained Dusty, “the saloon-keeper down in Blackwater. I guess I didn’t tell you but he give me a grubstake and so he gits half my claim.”
“Your claim!” echoed Wunpost. “Since when was this your claim? You doddering old tarrapin, you only own one-third of it–and that ain’t yours, by rights. How much do you claim, I say?”
“W’y–I only claim one third,” responded Dusty weakly, “but Whiskers, he claims that I’m entitled to a half─”
“A half!” raged Wunpost, starting back towards the saloon. “I’ll show the old billygoat what he owns!”
He kicked over the bar with savage destructiveness, jerking up a tent-peg with each brawny hand, and as the old man cowered he dragged the tent forward until it threatened every moment to come down.
“Git out of here!” he ordered, “git off of my ground! I discovered this claim and it’s located in my name–now git, before I break you in two!”
“Here, here!” broke in Cole Campbell, laying a hand on Wunpost’s arm as the saloon-keeper began 49suddenly to beg, “let’s not have any violence. What’s the trouble?”