Bat's Moose's Creek claim.

Naturally Bat made general proclamation of thirst, and our town
kinder dozed violently into a joyful three days' reverie, during
which period of coma the recording time on Bat's lot ran out.

He returns from his "hootch-hunt" to complete the shack, and finds
Annie overseeing some "Siwashes" put a pole roof on it. Of course he
promotes a race-war immediate, playing the white "open" and the red
to lose, so to speak, when she up an' spanks his face, addressing
expurgated, motherly cuss-words at him like he'd been a bad boy and
swallered his spoon, or dug an eye out of the kitten. Bat realizes
he's against a strange system and draws out of the game.

A week later she jumps No. 3, Gold Bottom, because Donnelly stuck a
pick in his foot and couldn't stay to finish the assessment.

"I can't throw her off, or shoot her up," says he, "or even cuss at
her like I want to, 'cause she's a lady." And it appeared like
that'd been her graft ever since--presumin' on her sex to make
disturbances. In six months we hated her like pizen.

There wasn't a stampede in a hundred miles where her bloomers wasn't
leading, for she had the endurance of a moose; and between
excitements she prospected for trouble in the manner of relocations.

I've heard of fellers speakin' disrespectful to her and then
wandering around dazed and loco after she'd got through painting word
pictures of 'em. It goes without saying she was generally popular
and petted, and when the Commissioner invited her to duck out down