"Ther's more of a man to you than I allowed, Sunny," he said sincerely. "There sure is. Bill's a man, whatever else he is. He's sure the best man I've seen on Sufferin' Creek. But you're wrong 'bout him bein' the reason of us worritin' ourselves sick on this yer trail. It ain't your head which needs re-decoratin', neither. Nor it ain't your stummick, which, I allow, ain't the most wholesome part of you. Neither it ain't your splay feet. You missed it, Sunny, an' I allus tho't you was a right smart guy. The reason you're on this doggone trail chasin' glory wot don't never git around, is worryin' along in a buckboard ahead of us, behind ole Minky's mule, an' he's hoofin' to home at an express slug's gait. That's the reason you're on the trail, an' nothin' else. You're jest a lazy, loafin', dirty bum as 'ud make mud out of a fifty-gallon bath o' boilin' soapsuds if you was set in it, but you was mighty sore seein' pore Zip kicked to death by his rotten luck. An' feelin' that always you kind o' fergot to be tired. That's why you're on this doggone trail. 'Cos your fool heart ain't as dirty as your carkis." And as he fired his last word Toby dashed his spurs into the flanks of his jaded horse, and galloped out of reach of the tide of vituperation he knew full well to be flowing in his wake. CHAPTER XXXIV THE LUCK OF SCIPIO Suffering Creek was again in a state of ferment. It seemed as if there were nothing but one excitement after another in the place now. No sooner was the matter of the gold-stage passed than a fresh disturbance was upon them. And again the established industry of the place was completely at a standstill. Human nature could no more withstand the infection that was ravaging the camp than keep cool under a political argument. The thing that had happened now was tremendous. Staid miners, old experienced hands whose lives were wedded to their quest of gold, whose interest in affairs was only taken from a standpoint of their benefit, or otherwise, to the gold interest, were caught in the feverish tide, and sent hurtling along with the rushing flood. Men whose pulses usually only received a quickening from the news of a fresh gold discovery now found themselves gaping with the wonder of it all, and asking themselves how it was this thing had happened, and if, indeed, it had happened, or were they dreaming.