When I had to go and testify in the Brady and Peterson cases against the Golden Fountain, old Sile was willing.
"I'd like to help stick the thieves!" he hissed.
"How did you know they were thieves?" asked I.
"I located the claim," said he, "and they stole it on a measley little balance for machinery—confound them!"
"Well, they're stealing it again," said I; and I explained the lost vein business.
"They've pounded the stock away down," said the lunger. "I believe it's a good buy!"
"Draw your eighteen-seventy-five from Sile," said I; "and come with me and buy it!"
"I think I will go," said he. And he did. He was a nice fellow to travel with.
Well, the Golden Fountain was shut down, and had no lawyer against us. It was a funny hook-up. We proved about the stulls, and got a judgment for the widow for ten thousand. Then we corralled another jury and showed that Pete had no patellar reflex, and therefore no spine, and got a shameful great verdict for him. And all the time the Golden Fountain never peeped, and Lungy Addison looked on speechless. Our lawyer was numb, it was so easy.
"I don't understand—" said he.