self fixed up. Pretty, ain't
she?" and he winks a blood-shot eye toward Stumps. "And when is it going
to be my Carats? Pretty soon, now, eh?" and he walks, or rather totters,
aside.

"Umph! I have got 'em again, Carrie. Fly around and get us something to
eat. Fly around, Carrie, fly around! Oh, I've got the shakes again!"
groans Forty-nine.

"Poor old boy!" and she brushes the snow from his beard and his tattered
coat. "Why, Forty-nine, you're shaking like a leaf."

"He's drunk--that's what's the matter with him." Gar Dosson growls this
out between his teeth as he sets his gun in the corner.

"He's not drunk! Its the ager!" retorts Stumps fiercely.

Gar Dosson, glaring at the boy, steadies himself on his right leg, and
diving deep in his left hand pocket, draws forth a large bill or poster.
With both hands he manages to spread this out, and swaggering up to the
wall near the window he hangs it on two pegs that are there to receive
coats or hats.

"Look at that!" and he crookedly points with his crooked fingers at the
large letters, and reads: "One thousand dollars (hic) dollars reward
for the capture of John Logan! What do you say to that, Carats? That's a
fine fellow to have for a lover, now, ain't it?--a waluable lover, now,
ain't it? Worth a thousand dollars! Oh, don't I wish he was a-hanging
around here now! Wouldn't I sell him, and get a thousand dollars, eh?
Yes, I would. I just want that thousand dollars. And I'm the man that's
going to get it, too! Eh, old Blossom-nose?" Forty-nine jerks back his
dignified head as the bully gesticulates violently.

"You will, will you? Well, may-be you will (hic), but if you get a cent
of that money (hic) for catching that man you don't enter that door
again; no, you don't lift that latch-string again as long as old
Forty-nine has a fist to lift!" and he thrusts his doubled hand hard
into the boaster's face.

"Good for you!" cries Carrie. "Dear, good, brave old Forty-nine; I like
you--I love you!" and the girl embraces him, while the boy flourishes
his club at the back of the bully.

"No, don't you hit a man when he's down, sah," continues Forty-nine.
"That's the true doctrine of a gentleman--the true doctrine of a
gentleman, sah." He flourishes his hand, totters forward, totters back,
and hesitates--"The true doctrine of a gentleman, sah. The little horse
in the horse-race, sah--the bottom dog in the dog-fight, sah. The--"

And the poor old man totters back and fall