"You're goin' back down the river," stated Chenoa Pete. "If you go quietly, everything will be hunkydory. If you make a fuss about it—why, you won't go at all. Get up!"
While his hands happened to be up Lucky Jim seized the opportunity for a good yawn.
"You poor crooks," he then said, throwing his legs over the bunk onto the floor. "I suppose you wouldn't listen to a partnership proposition?"
An idea had entered Lucky Jim's head.
"I should say nix!" exclaimed Chenoa Pete with a laugh. "You've got everything set and ready for a whoppin' clean-up a week from now. I'll say you're a good miner. But down the river you've got to go."
"And you're gonna stay down, too, see!" And Mike Haggart poked Lucky Jim in the side with the business end of his rifle.
"Just why are you running me off this bar?"
"Why? Good Lord, ain't we been watching Dad Manslow for eighteen months and tryin' to get outa him where he got that $2,000 worth of dust? Do you think a bar like this is picked up every day?"
"Why don't you go out and hunt up your own bars?"
"Aw, cut out the wranglin'!" exclaimed Chenoa Pete. "Put some grub in a box and get the hell outa here!"