his calm exterior, which does conceal the fiery depths of his nature; in
fact, all his so-called animal attributes I prefer, to the more
sophisticated allure of his human gender." Anthony laid a strong hand on
the little beast's shoulder, while the French woman regarded him
curiously out of long black eyes.

"There, take that, you good for nothing cur," and a man kicked a dog in
through the door, to lie in a twisted, bloody heap upon the floor.

"What do you mean, you brute!" called Anthony, springing upon the miner,
who immediately closed with him. Mignon screamed, and ran to stop them.

"Monsieur, for why you do - ?"

"Aw, he got licked. I lost money on him."

"Yes, and you haven't paid me, neither. You shell out, you Buckeye
Pete!" spoke up a tall Kentuckian, with a mastiff on a leash.

"It wasn't a fair fight, Spotty Collins," whined Buckeye.

"It was - it was, so!" called a chorus of voices.

"I'll buy your dog," said Anthony. "That will pay your debts." Anthony
handed the money to Collins, picked up the half dead dog, and, holding
him against his immaculate new frilled shirt, he strode away toward his
claim over the mountain. The jack, whose attitude had hair," never
changed "by so much as the waving of a suddenly raised an alert head
and as his benefactor vanished, he ambled quickly after him.