He then drew an empty
chair towards him and dropped heavily into it with his gun on his
knees. The editor's heart dropped almost as heavily, although he quite
composedly held out his hand.
"Shall I relieve you of your gun?"
"Thank ye, lad--noa. It's moor coomfortable wi' me, and it's main
dangersome to handle on the half-cock. That's why I didn't leave 'im on
the horse outside!"
At the sound of his voice and occasional accent a flash of intelligence
relieved the editor's mind. He remembered that twenty miles away, in
the illimitable vista from his windows, lay a settlement of English
north-country miners, who, while faithfully adopting the methods,
customs, and even slang of the Californians, retained many of their
native peculiarities. The gun he carried on his knee, however, was
evidently part of the Californian imitation.
"Can I do anything for you?" said the editor blandly.
"Ay! I've coom here to bill ma woife."
"I--don't think I understand," hesitated the editor, with a smile.
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