"What do you mean, you brute!" called Anthony, springing upon the miner,
who immediately closed with him. Mignon screamed, and ran to stop them.
"Monsieur, for why you do - ?"
"Aw, he got licked. I lost money on him."
"Yes, and you haven't paid me, neither. You shell out, you Buckeye
Pete!" spoke up a tall Kentuckian, with a mastiff on a leash.
"It wasn't a fair fight, Spotty Collins," whined Buckeye.
"It was - it was, so!" called a chorus of voices.
"I'll buy your dog," said Anthony. "That will pay your debts." Anthony
handed the money to Collins, picked up the half dead dog, and, holding
him against his immaculate new frilled shirt, he strode away toward his
claim over the mountain. The jack, whose attitude had hair," never
changed "by so much as the waving of a suddenly raised an alert head
and as his benefactor vanished, he ambled quickly after him.
Pete sought to stop him at the door and in one lightning and concerted
movement, he bit and struck and kicked, scattering the crowd in all
directions.
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