“I have consorted with many of his kind,” said Anthony, smiling, “and I prefer his frank sincerity, his bravery under stress, his worldly poise, his calm exterior, which does conceal the fiery depths of his nature; in fact, all his so-called animal attributes I prefer, to the more sophisticated allure of his human gender.” Anthony laid a strong hand on the little beast's shoulder, while the French woman regarded him curiously out of long black eyes. “There, take that, you good for nothing cur,” and a man kicked a dog in through the door, to lie in a twisted, bloody heap upon the floor. “What do you mean, you brute!” called Anthony, springing upon the miner, who immediately closed with him. Mignon screamed, and ran to stop them. “Monsieur, for why you do--?” “Aw, he got licked. I lost money on him.” “Yes, and you haven't paid me, neither. You shell out, you Buckeye Pete!” spoke up a tall Kentuckian, with a mastiff on a leash. “It wasn't a fair fight, Spotty Collins,” whined Buckeye. “It was--it was, so!” called a chorus of voices. “I'll buy your dog,” said Anthony. “That will pay your debts.” Anthony handed the money to Collins, picked up the half dead dog, and, holding him against his immaculate new frilled shirt, he strode away toward his claim over the mountain. The jack, whose attitude had hair, never changed by so much as the waving of a suddenly raised an alert head and as his benefactor vanished, he ambled quickly after him. Pete sought to stop him at the door and in one lightning and concerted movement, he bit and struck and kicked, scattering the crowd in all directions. When the men watching Anthony down the street, burst into laughter at the bizarre procession, the French girl silenced them with fierce, hissing syllables.. “Heh! Dude Anthony, beloved of the b--” “Zose words you shall not call la petite hound an' me. Even name of a dog is for such as you too good to be call'. Monsieur, we take pleasaire in your departure from hence.” “Go on, please the lady, Buckeye. There's no other jackass to keep you here any longer.” And Buckeye departed in a perfect indigo haze of profanity. * * * * * “Mignon, have you heard the news?” “Non, Monsieur, I 'ave sleep all ze day.” “Spotty Collins was found in Blue Ravine this morning, robbed and murdered. You see, he had a lot of money on him from the dog fight.” “But ze beeg hound?” “He was shot, too.” “Ze murderer, zey 'ave caught?” “Not yet. They say the sheriff's on his trail, though. He just got back from Sacramento and he went right out. By jinks, he's coming now! An' he's got 'im!” “Mon Dieu! It is Monsieur Ant'ony!” “No!” “Oui! Heem, my woman's heart knows well.” “By jinks, you must be right! There's the fightin' jack followin' the horses. Dude Anthony of all people!” “It is not true! It cannot be!” “Think I've got my man, boys. His clothes are covered with blood and the money was in his cabin.” “I have just made a strike in my claim. That is my own money.”