was said to have struck it rich. Garotte, therefore, might yet become
popular in the larger world, and its evil reputation be removed.
Besides, what Whitman had done any one might do, for by common consent
he was a "derned fool." Good-humour accordingly reigned at Doolan's,
and the saloon was filled with an excited, hopeful crowd. Bill Bent,
however, was anything but pleased; he generally was in a bad temper, and
this evening, as Crocker remarked carelessly, he was "more ornery than
ever." The rest seemed to pay no attention to the lanky, dark man with
the narrow head, round, black eyes, and rasping voice. But Bent would
croak: "Whitman's struck nothin'; thar ain't no gold in Garotte; it's
all work and no dust." In this strain he went on, offending local
sentiment and making every one uncomfortable.

Muirhead's first appearance created a certain sensation. He was a fine
upstanding fellow of six feet or over, well made, and good-looking. But
Garotte had too much experience of life to be won by a stranger's
handsome looks. Muirhead's fair moustache and large blue eyes counted
for little there. Crocker and others, masters in the art of judging men,
noticed that his eyes were unsteady, and his manner, though genial,
seemed hasty. Reggitt summed up their opinion in the phrase, "looks as
if he'd bite off more'n he could chaw." Unconscious of the criticism,
Muirhead talked, offered drinks, and made himself agreeable.

At length in answer to Bent's continued grumbling, Muirhead said
pleasantly: "'Tain't so bad as that in Garotte, is it? This bar don't
look like poverty, and if I set up drinks for the crowd, it's because
I'm glad to be in this camp."

"P'r'aps you found the last place you was in jes' a leetle too warm,
eh?" was Bent's retort.