"I know one thing," declared Judge George Petty, who was sober and irritable, "if N. K. Rippetoe sends me in any more of that dod-gasted Injun bakin' powder, him and me is goin' to fall out. I warned him once I'd take my trade away and now he's gone and done it again. It won't raise nothin', not _nothin'_!" "An' you can't _drink_ it," Lanningan observed pointedly. "You remember them dried apples I bought off the half-breed lady down on the Nez Perce Reserve? Well," said Porcupine Jim sourly, "they walked off day 'fore yistiddy--worms. I weighed that lady out cash gold, and look what she's done on me! I wouldn't wonder if them apples wa'nt three to four year old." "If only we could find out what that Yellow-Leg's after." Lannigan's face was cross-lined with anxiety. "If some of us could only unload somethin' on him, then the rest of us could borry till Capital took holt in the spring." "S-ss-sh! That's him," came a warning whisper. "Good morning, gentlemen. I seem to have slept late." It was apparent to all that Mr. Dill's spirits were decidedly better than when he had retired. Yankee Sam suggested humorously: "I reckon they was a little slow gittin' around with the tea-kittle to thaw you out, so you could git up." Mr. Dill declared that he had been agreeably disappointed in his night; that he really felt quite rested and refreshed. "If it isn't too soon after breakfast, friends," he said tentatively, as he produced a flask. It was quickly made clear to him that it was never too soon, or too late, for that matter, and a suggestion of force was necessary to tear the flask from Yankee Sam's face. "What? Teetotaler?" As Uncle Bill shook his head. "Not exactly; sometimes I take a little gin for my kidnas." Ore City looked at him in unfeigned surprise. Mr. Dill, however, believed he understood. The old man either knew him or had taken a personal dislike--maybe both--at any rate he ceased to urge. "Gentlemen," impressively, and Ore City felt intuitively that its acute sufferings, due to ungratified curiosity, were at an end, "no doubt you've wondered why I'm here?" Ore City murmured a hypocritical protest. "That would be but natural," Mr. Dill spoke slowly, drawling his words, animated perhaps by the spirit which prompts the cat to prolong the struggles of the dying mouse, "but I have postponed making my mission known until rejuvenated by a good night's sleep. Now, gentlemen, if I can have your support, your hearty co-operation, I may tell you that I am in a position--to make Ore City boom! In other words--Capital Is Going to Take Hold!" Porcupine Jim, who, through long practice and by bracing the ball of his foot against the knob on the stove door, was able to balance himself on one rear leg of his chair, lost his footing on the nickel knob and crashed to the floor, but he "came up smiling," offering for inspection a piece of ore in his extended hand.