continued:

"Eben says there was a fellow named Weasel that hid close by, an' heerd
all 'twas said, and when he went to the rum-shop an' told the miners,
they hooray'd for Jim ez ef they wuz mad. Just like them crazy
fellers--they hain't no idee when money's wasted."

"The Lord waste all the money in the world that way!" devoutly
exclaimed the deacon.

"An' that feller Weasel," continued Miss Peekin, giving the deacon's pet
cat a vicious kick, "though he'd always been economical, an' never set a
bad example before by persuadin' folk to be intemprit, actilly drored a
pistol, and fit with a feller they called Colonel Two--fit for the
chance of askin' the crowd to drink to Jim Hockson, an' then went aroun'
to all the diggins, tellin' about Jim, an' wastin' his money treatin'
folks to drink good luck to Jim. Disgraceful!"

"It's what _I'd_ call a powerful conversion," remarked the deacon.

"But ther's more," said Miss Peekin, with a sigh, and yet with an air of
importance befitting the bearer of wonderful tidings.

"What?" eagerly asked Mrs. Crankett.

"Jim's back," said Miss Peekin.

"Mercy on us!" cried Mrs. Crankett.

"The Lord bless and prosper him!" earnestly exclaimed the deacon.