n' here, I don't feel I could do less than share my simple
repast with you. I'm a stock-broker myself,' he says, 'but none of
these durned rich ones, so if you can stand for once to eat a meal
not exceedin' five dollars in price, why, come along!' says he.

"Then we went into a high-toned vittel dispensary, I bet you.
Jeemima! but she was gold and white paint to knock your eye out.
I'll never tell you what I et, but it was good food. And to wind
up, come little cups of coffee and big seegars. It was beautiful.
Then says my man, 'Well, this is a day in a hundred. I can't tell
you how good it makes me feel in this city of sin to come across a
square man like yourself--what do you say to a bottle of wine?'

"'Ya-a-as,' says I. With life ripplin' along like this I was
endorsin' the whole time-table.

"Wine is a mawker. The first small glass of it hadn't gone
whistlin' down afore she begun to mawk me. 'Ezekiel!' says she,
'be merry; disport yourself--where's your game blood? Try a fall
with this gentleman.'

"'Ya-a-as,' says I to myself. And then I says aloud and hearty,
'My friend, you've used me right. It ain't that I want to make
money, but just to help your friend along; I haven't any greenbacks
much in my possession, but,' I says, 'if you're willin' to arrange
a dicker, whereby I exchange eighteen ounces of nuggets--the
present market value of Chink Creek gold bein' seventeen dollars
and forty cents per ounce--for two thousand dollars of your
friend's bills, it bein' herein stated and provided that you can
pass 'em like you say you can to my satisfaction, why, I'm your
little huckleberry, waitin' to get picked.'

"'I got you,' says he, and we shook hands. 'You go to your hotel
and bring the dust,' says he, 'and I'll slide along and make the
old man sign the bills. I'll meet you on the corner where we met
before.'

"So I met him on the corner, and we went up-stairs to a room where
a little old man was signin' bills fast and furious.

"'Slide out one,' says my friend, 'till I take Mr. Scraggs out and
prove I'm no liar.'

"The old man carefully blotted a hundred-dollar green and away we
goes to a bank. It was a sure-enough bank. Outside was the name
in big letters and inside was the man called 'teller' that won't
tell you nothin' and looks as if he hated you, like all good banks
has.

"'Fives and tens for this, please,' says my friend. That teller
never quit thinkin' of his dyspepsy, but chucked