Andy. "Hand me a pick," he went on to another of the natives.
"Wait jest a minute," spoke Abe calmly, as he put his little store of nuggets in the pocket of his fur coat, and drew out a big revolver. "It ain't healthy t' talk that way, Andy Foger, an' th' sooner you find that out th' better. You ain't in Shopton now, an th' only law here is what we make for ourselves. Tom, maybe you'd better get out th' rifles, an' your electric gun, after all. It seems like we might have trouble," and Abe coolly looked to see if his weapon was loaded.
"Oh, of course we didn't mean to usurp any of your rights, my dear friend!" exclaimed Mr. Foger quickly, and he seemed nervous at the sight of the big revolver, while Andy hastily moved until he was behind the biggest of the sledge drivers. "We don't want to violate any of your rights," went on Mr. Foger. "But this valley is large, and do I understand that you claim all of it?"
"We could if we wanted to," declared Abe stoutly; "but we'll be content with three-quarters of it, seein' we was here fust. If you folks want t' dig fer gold, go over there," and he pointed to a spot some distance away.
"We'll dig where we please!" cried Andy.
"Oh, will you?" and there was an angry light
