"Don't come round 'ere bothering me, young men," said the fellow, with a wave of his hand, as though desirous of cutting short the conversation.
I thought that I recognized the voice, although I was not certain. Neither had I seen the fellow's face, except by profile, so I just laid a hand upon his shoulder, gave him a whirl and brought him to the right about face. My suspicions were verified; I stood face to face with my old rascally friend, Steel Spring.
"Why, you scamp, where did you come from?" I asked.
"That's the vay vid the vorld," the fellow said, putting one hand to his eyes as though overcome by the unexpected interview; "a covey tries to be honest, and get a honest livin', but up comes somebody vot has been concerned vid him in the grab line, and insists upon being acquainted. I'll leave this 'ere country, I vill."
"Why, you rascal!" exclaimed the ex-inspector, "I've a good mind to lock you up until you eat humble pie for six weeks to come."
"No, you don't," replied Steel Spring, with a chuckle, "'cos you ain't inspector no more, no how, and you can't lock a covey up, and you know it."
"He has you there, Mr. Brown," I remarked, and it pleased Steel Spring so much that he condescended to regard us with a little more favor.
"If he has," replied Mr. Brown, "I've got him on another tack that would give him trouble. Come, tell us what you are doing here."
"Can't you see?" he answered, impudently. "I'm looking at that awkward squad of miners drilling, and pretty bad vork they make of it."
"But are you in the breaking and entering line, or the pickpocket business?" Mr. Brown asked.