“No,” said Flipp, the champion euchre-player, with a sad face and a strong oath. “He used to lose his ounces like a man. But t’other night I knocked at his door, and asked him to come down an’ hev a han’. He didn’t say nothin’, but _she_ up an’ sed he’d stopped playin’. I reely tuk it to be my duty to argy with her, an’ show her how tough it wuz to cut off a feller’s enjoyment; but she sed ’twas too high-priced fur the fun it fetched.” “That ain’t the wust, nuther,” said Topjack Flipp’s usual partner. “There wuz Arkansas Bill an’ Jerry Miller, thet used to be ez fond of ther little game ez anybody. Now, ev’ry night they go up thar to Blizzer’s, an’ jest do nothin’ but sit aroun’ an’ talk. It’s enough to make a marble statoo cuss to see good men spiled that way.” “Somethin’ ‘stonishin’ ’bout what comes of it, though,” resumed the deacon. “’Twas only yestiddy thet Bill was kerryin’ a bucket of dirt to the crick, an’ jest ez he got there his foot slipped in, an’ he went kerslosh. Knowin’ Bill’s language on sech occasions ain’t what a church-member ort to hear, I was makin’ it convenient to leave, when along come _her_, an’ he choked off ez suddin ez a feller on the gallers.” Day by day the boys dug dirt, and carried it to the creek, and washed out the precious gold; day by day the denizens of Tough Case worked as many hours and as industriously as men anywhere. But no Tough Caseite was so wicked as to work on Sunday. Sunday at Tough Case commenced at sunset on Saturday, after the good old Puritan fashion, and lasted through until working-time on Monday morning. But beyond this matter of time the Puritan parallel could not be pursued, for on Sunday was transacted all the irregular business of the week; on Sunday was done all the hard drinking and heavy gambling; and on Sunday were settled such personal difficulties as were superior to the limited time and low liquor-pressure of the week. The evening sun of the first Saturday of Mrs. Blizzer’s residence at Tough Case considered his day’s work done, and retired under the snowy coverlets the Sierras lent him. The tired miners gladly dropped pick, shovel, and pan, but bedclothing was an article which at that moment they scorned to consider; there was important business and entertainment, which would postpone sleep for many hours. The express would be along in the morning, and no prudent man could sleep peaceably until he had deposited his gold-dust in the company’s strong box. Then there were two or three old feuds which _might_ come to a head—they always _did_ on Sunday. And above all, Redwing, a man with enormous red whiskers, had been threatening all week to have back the money Flipp had won from him on the preceding Sunday, and Redwing had been very lucky in his claim all week, and the two men were very nearly matched, and were magnificent players, so the game promised to last many hours, and afford handsome opportunities for outside betting.