“You say so.”
“You’ve got a mine, that’ll break ayry man, short pocket or long pocket. That’s so; ain’t it?”
“No doubt of that.”
“Well now; my curwolyow’s got grit into him, and so’s that thar pile er quartz er yourn got gold into it. But you cant git the slugs out er your mineral; and I can get the kicks a blasted sight thicker ’n anything softer out er my animal. Here’s horse agin mine,—which ’d yer rether hev, allowin’ ’twas toss up and win.”
“Horse!” said I. “I don’t know how bad he is, and I do know that the mine is worse than nothing to me.”
“Lookerhere, stranger! You’re goan home across lots. You want a horse. I’m goan to stop here. I’d jess as lives gamble off a hundred or two head o’ bullocks on that Foolonner Mine. You can’t find ayry man round here to buy out your interest in that thar heap er stun an the hole it cum out of. It’ll cost you more ’n the hul’s wuth ef you go down to San Frisco and wait tell some fool comes along what’s got gold he wants to buy quartz with. Take time now, I’m goan to make yer a fair banter.”
“Well, make it.”
“I stump you to a clean swap. My hoss agin your mine.”
“Done,” said I.
“I allowed you’d do it. This here is one er them swaps, when both sides gits stuck. I git the Foolonner Mine, what I can’t make go, and you’ll be a fool on a crittur what’ll go a heap more ’n you’ll want. Haw! haw!”