“No!” roared Wunpost, and looked about wildly, at which Cole Campbell stepped up beside him.
“What’s the trouble?” he asked, and as Wunpost shouted into his ear Campbell shook his head and smiled dubiously.
“Let’s look at the contract,” he suggested, and 59Wunpost, all unstrung, consented. Then he grabbed him back and yelled into his ear:
“That’s no good now–he’s used it once already!”
“How do you mean?” queried Campbell, still reaching for the contract; and the jack-in-the-box thrust it into his hands.
“Why, he used that same paper to claim the Wunpost–he can’t claim every mine I find!”
“Well, we’ll see,” returned Campbell, putting on his glasses, and Wunpost flew into a fury.
“Git out of here!” he yelled, making a kick at Pisen-face Lynch; “git out, or I’ll be the death of ye!”
But Pisen-face Lynch recoiled like a rattlesnake and stood set with a gun in each hand.
“Don’t you think it,” he rasped, and Wunpost turned away from him with a groan of mortal agony.