"It isn't a bwick—it's a weal nugget," said the miner, with a scowl. "An' if you try to cheat me, Stanley said I must shoot you dead!"
"Here's a bottle of pop and your nugget for nothing," said the kind-hearted shopkeeper, with a laugh. "But don't bring any more brick ends or rubbish over here. Where are you going to take it to?"
"The camp."
"Where's the camp?"
"In Klondyke."
"Where's Klondyke?"
"On the beach, wight over there where Stanley is."
"Who's Stanley?"
"Stan's a miner, an' I'm his pard. We're diggin' up nuggets to spend in sweets, an' carriages, an' other fings for dada and mamma."