"Well," says he, and I noted that jag of his had flew. "You see, I was behind that rock up there, and I had you covered."
I saw; and I began to feel better about bein' so tur'ble conscientious.
We walked a little ways without sayin' nothin'.
"But ain't you goin' to join the game?" I asks.
"Guess not," says he, jinglin' of his gold. "I'm satisfied."
"But if you don't get a wiggle on you, you are sure goin' to get left on those gold claims," says I.
"There ain't no gold claims," says he.
"But Henry Smith—" I cries.
"There ain't no Henry Smith," says he.
I let that soak in about six inches.