We quit the Golden Fountain, and I got some assessment work for Sile Wilson. Pete wouldn't go. He was sort of hanging around the widow, but his brains were so sluggish that I don't believe he knew why. I picked up a man named Lungy to help. Sile's daughter Lucy kept house for Sile in camp, and in two days she was calling Lungy "Mr. Addison," and reproaching me for stringing a stranger that had seen better days and had a bum lung and was used to dressing for dinner. I told her I most always allowed to wear something at that meal myself, and she snapped my head off. He was a nice fellow for a lunger. When I had to go and testify in the Brady and Peterson cases against the Golden Fountain, old Sile was willing. "I'd like to help stick the thieves!" he hissed. "How did you know they were thieves?" asked I. "I located the claim," said he, "and they stole it on a measley little balance for machinery--confound them!" "Well, they're stealing it again," said I; and I explained the lost vein business. "They've pounded the stock away down," said the lunger. "I believe it's a good buy!" "Draw your eighteen-seventy-five from Sile," said I; "and come with me and buy it!" "I think I will go," said he. And he did. He was a nice fellow to travel with. Well, the Golden Fountain was shut down, and had no lawyer against us. It was a funny hook-up. We proved about the stulls, and got a judgment for the widow for ten thousand. Then we corralled another jury and showed that Pete had no patellar reflex, and therefore no spine, and got a shameful great verdict for him. And all the time the Golden Fountain never peeped, and Lungy Addison looked on speechless. Our lawyer was numb, it was so easy. "I don't understand--" said he. "The law department must be connected in series with the mine machinery," said I, "and shuts off with the same switch. Do we get this on a foul?" "Oh, nothing foul!" said he. "Default, you see--" "No showup at ringside," said I; "9 to 0? How about bets?" "Everything is all right," said he, looking as worried. "We'll sell the mine, and make the judgments!" "And get the Golden Fountain," said I, "on an Irish pit boss and a Swede's spine?" "Certainly," said he, "if they don't redeem." "Show me," said I; "I'm from Missouri! It's too easy to be square. She won't pan!" "Dat bane hellufa pile money f'r vidder," said Pete when we were alone. "Ten thousan' f'r Brady, an' twelf f'r spine! Ay git yob vork f'r her in mine!" "You wild Skandihoovian," said I, "that's _your_ spine!" "Mae spine?" he grinned. "Ay gass not! Dat leg-yerkin' bane only effidence. Dat spine bane vidder's!"