But the doughty Puritans of Cromwell’s time, while they trusted in God, carefully protected their powder from moisture, and the devout Mohammedan, to this day, ties up his camel at night before committing it to the keeping of the higher powers; so it was but natural that the anxious ones at Flatfoot Bar vigorously ventilated their own ideas while they longed for light and knowledge. “They ain’t ornaments to camp, no way you can fix it. them Greasers ain’t,” said a tall miner, bestowing an effective kick upon a stick of firewood, which had departed a short distance from his neighbors. “Mississp’s right, fellers,” said the host. “They ain’t got the slightest idee of the duties of citizens. They show themselves down to the saloon, to be sure, an’ I never seed one of ’em a-waterin’ his liquor; but when you’ve sed that, you’ve sed ev’rythin’.” “Our distinguished friend speaks truthfully,” remarked Nappy Boney, the only Frenchman in camp, and possessing a nickname playfully contracted from the name of the first emperor. “_La gloire_ is nothing to them. Comprehends any one that they know not even of France’s most illustrious son, _le petit caporal_?” “That’s bad, to be sure,” said Texas, cutting an enormous chew of tobacco, and passing both plug and knife; “but that might be overlooked; mebbe the schools down in Mexico ain’t up with the times. What I’m down on is, they hain’t got none of the eddication that comes nateral to a gentleman, even ef he never seed the outside of a schoolhouse. Who ever heerd of one of ’em hevin’ a difficulty with any gentleman, at the saloon or on the crick? They drar a good deal of blood, but it’s allers from some of their own kind, an’ up there by ’emselves. Ef they hed a grain of public spirit, not to say liberality, they’d do some of their amusements before the rest of us, instead of gougin’ the camp out of _its_ constitutional amusements. Why, I’ve knowed the time when I’ve held in fur six hours on a stretch, till there could be fellers enough around to git a good deal of enjoyment out of it.” “They wash out a sight of dust!” growled Lynn Taps, from the Massachusetts shoe district; “but I never could git one of ’em to put up an ounce on a game—they jest play by ’emselves, an’ keep all their washin’s to home.” “Blarst ’em hall! let’s give ’em tickets-o’-leave, an’ show ’em the trail!” roared Bracelets, a stout Englishman, who had on each wrist a red scar, which had suggested his name and unpleasant situations. “I believe in fair play, but I darsn’t keep my eyes hoff of ’em sleepy-lookin’ tops, when their flippers is anywheres near their knives, you know.” “Well, what’s to be done to ’em?” demanded Lynn Taps. “All this jawin’s well enough, but jaw never cleared out anybody ‘xcep’ that time Samson tried, an’ _then_ it came from an individual that wasn’t related to any of _this_ crowd.”