"
"I reckon I heard somebody say suthin' about its being a Chinaman's
three-day job," interpolated the Left Bower, with equal irony, "but I
ain't quite clear in my mind about that."
"It'll be a sorter distraction for the Old Man," said Union Mills,
feebly,--"kinder take his mind off his loneliness."
Nobody taking the least notice of the remark, Union Mills stretched out
his legs more comfortably and took out his pipe. He had scarcely done
so when the Right Bower, wheeling suddenly, set off in the direction of
the creek. The Left Bower, after a slight pause, followed without a
word. The Judge, wisely conceiving it better to join the stronger
party, ran feebly after him, and left Union Mills to bring up a weak
and vacillating rear.
Their course, diverging from Lone Star Mountain, led them now directly
to the bend of the creek, the base of their old ineffectual operations.
Here was the beginning of the famous tail--race that skirted the new
trader's claim, and then lost its way in a swampy hollow. It was choked
with debris; a thin, yellow stream that once ran through it seemed to
have stopped work when they did, and gone into greenish liquidation.
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