“Going on in the morning?”
“No; this is my claim.”
The man dropped the burning stick, and stared at Gunson.
“What?” he said. “Oh no, that won’t do. Me and my mates have chosen this patch, so you’ll have to go higher up or lower down; haven’t we, lads?” he continued, as one by one the rest of the gang came up.
“Eh? all right, yes, whatever it is,” said one of them, whom I recognised as the second of Quong’s assailants.
“There, you see,” continued the first man; “it’s all right, so you’ll have to budge.”
“No,” said Gunson, quietly; “this is my claim. I’ve been here some days now, and here I stay.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that,” said the fellow, in a bullying tone. “It’s the place for us, so no nonsense. Been here some days, have you?”
“Yes, some days now, my lad; and the law gives me a prior right.”
“Ah, but there arn’t no law up here yet. Look here,” he cried, suddenly seizing Gunson, and forcing him back. “What’s the pay dirt worth? How much gold have you got? How—Why, hallo! it’s you, is it? Here, old lad,” he cried to the other speaker, “it’s our wrastling friend. I told you we should run up agen each other again, and—why of course—here’s the boy too. This is quite jolly.”