TIBERIUS SMITH
for legitimate bipeds you ever saw, sir, emerged from the wild-wood and tagged us before we could even cross our fingers.
"‘Oh yes,' I lamented, as the circle narrowed and a galaxy of ugly squaws formed a menacing fringe on the outskirts, 'Chuck is away from home, all right. I'll gamble he's miles from here.'
"‘Don't blame me, Billy,' remonstrated Tib. 'Maybe they're not so bad as the posters describe. Finzer swore they were absent. Anyway, they haven't hurt us yet.'
"Just then Chuck himself strode through the gang, six foot and a half in height, if an inch, and rudely placed his hornlike fingers beneath my boyish chin, and sprained my neck by making me lift my head heavenward.
"Then in quaint English he asked what we wanted and why we wanted it. Tib artlessly said we were looking for gold, and at that the big misnomer snapped his teeth and gave an order to his squat followers. In a second we were flat on our manly backs with our pockets turned inside out. When they struck our treasure-trove I thought they would succumb to unwholesome anger, while Chuck, dancing up and down, bellowed for us to tell where we had found color.
"Tib refused until we had come to some agreement as to our safety, whispering to me that if we
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