his eloquent voice was heard at length on even the smallest matter that
interested the camp. One day a disloyal miner remarked:

"Captain's jaw is a reg'lar air-trigger; reckon he'll run the camp when
Whitey leaves."

Straightway a devout respecter of the "powers that be" carried the
remark to Whitey, the chief of the camp.

Now, it happened that Whitey, an immense but very peaceable and sensible
fellow, had just been discussing with some of his adherents the probable
designs of the captain, and this new report seemed to arrive just in
time, for Whitey instantly said:

"Thar he goes agin, d'ye see, pokin' his shovel in all aroun'. Now, ef
the boys want me to leave, they kin say so, an' I'll go. 'Tain't the
easiest claim in the world to work, runnin' this camp ain't, an' I'll
never hanker to be chief nowhar else; but seein' I've stuck to the boys,
an' seen 'em through from the fust, 'twouldn't be exactly gent'emanly,
'pears to me."

And for a moment Whitey hid his emotions in a tin cup, from which
escaped perfumes suggesting the rye-fields of Kentucky.

"Nobody wants you to go, Whitey," said Wolverine, one of the chief's
most faithful supporters. "Didn't yer kick that New Hampshire feller out
of camp when he kept a-sayin' the saloon wuz the gate o' hell?"

"Well," said the chief, with a flush of modest pride, "I don't deny it;
but _I_ wont remind the boys of it, ef they've forgot it."