"Why should I pay Butts twenty dollars if I could work dat racket m'self? If I want expert work, I go to a man like Butts, who knows his business. I'm a miner—like the rest o' yer!"
The centre of gravity had shifted. It was very grave indeed in the neighbourhood of Mr. Butts.
"Hold on," said the Judge, forcing his way nearer to the man whose fingers had a renown so perilous. "'Cause a man plays a trick about a girl's ring don't prove he stole her money. This thing happened while the town was emptied out on the Little Minóok trail. Didn't you go off with the rest yesterday morning?"
"No."
"Ha!" gasped Maudie, as though this were conclusive—"had business in town, did you?"
Mr. Butts declined to answer.
"You thought the gold-mine out on the gulch could wait—and the gold-mine in my cabin couldn't."
"You lie!" remarked Mr. Butts.
"What time did you get to Idaho Bar?" asked Corey.
"Didn't get there at all."