grin, and the storm was over.

The curly-haired man at once left his place and strode over to where
the prospector was sitting.

"Frontier Samson!" he exclaimed, gripping him firmly by the hand. "Is
it really you?"

"Sure, it's me, all right, Curly. Who else did ye think it was; me
ghost?"

"Not when I heard that cat-call, an' the bow-wow."

"Heard 'em before, eh? Guess this isn't the first scrape I've got ye
out of, is it?"

"Should say not. But where in h---- did ye drop from, Sam? I didn't
know ye were on board."

"Oh, I'm jist on a visit from the outside. An' it's mighty lucky that
I'm here, or else I don't know what 'ud have happened. Better leave
cards alone, Curly, if ye can't play without fightin'. They make
people act like a bunch of kids."

"It was those d---- fools' fault, though, Sam."

"Thar, now, don't make excuses an' blame others, Curly. That's jist
what kids allus do. An' cut out them unholy words. There might be a
parson around."