Brent drank his liquor, and reached for the bottle: "Why, I'm going to hit out and locate another strike," he said, a trifle thickly.
Camillo Bill regarded him thoughtfully: "Where at?"
"Why I don't know. There are plenty of creeks—Eldorado—Ophir—Doolittle——"
The other laughed: "Listen here," he said, "While you be'n here in town rollin' 'em high an' soppin' up hooch, they's be'n a hell of a change on the creeks. Ain't you stopped to notice that Dawson's more'n twict as big as she was in August, an' that the country is gittin full of tin-horns, an' chechakos. Well it is—an' every creek's filed that's worth a damn—an' so's every one that ain't. They ain't a claim to be took up no more on Bonanza, nor Ophir, nor Siwash, nor Eldorado, nor Alhambra, nor Sulphur, nor Excelsis, nor Christo, nor Doolittle, nor not hardly none on no pup nor dry wash that runs into 'em."
"All right, I'll go farther, then," retorted Brent, pouring more liquor into his glass. "I'll go beyond the last creek that's staked. And, by God, I'll find gold!"
Camillo Bill shook his head: "Look a here, you ain't in no shape to hit out on no long trip. You've laid up too long to tackle it, an' you've drunk too
much of that damned hooch. It ain't none of my business what you do, or what you don't do—maybe you ain't drinkin' enough of it, I don't know. But that there's damn poor stuff to train on for a long trail in winter—an' I'm tellin' it to you that winter's sure hit these diggin's an' hit 'em hard. Tell you what I'll do. I've be'n nosin' 'round buyin' claims while you be'n layin' abed daytimes sleepin' off the hooch. I've got more'n what I kin 'tend to alone. I'll give you two thousand a month to help me look after 'em, an' you can sort of ease off the hooch, an' get broke in easy agin. If you sleep nights, an' keep out doors daytimes, an' lay off the cards an' the hooch, you'll be good as ever agin spring."
"Not on your life," flared Brent, "I'm as good a man right now as I ever was! And a damn sight too good a man to be anybody's pensioner. You know damned well that you don't need me at two thousand a month, or any other figure, except at an ounce a day, the same as anyone else gets. What the hell's the matter with everybody?" A querulous note crept into Brent's voice, "I tell you I'm as good a man as I ever was! Kitty told me the same thing—that I'm drinking too much! Whose business is it if I am? But, I'm not, and I'll hit the trail tomorrow and show you all!"
"So long," said Camillo Bill as he rose from his chair. "I told you it wasn't no one's business but yourn, so they ain't no argyment there. Only, jest
you remember that I'm a friend of yourn, an' so is Kitty—an' a man might have a damn sight worse friend than her, at that."