"There's too many strangers here.

Just to show you how I stand, I've put Runnion on guard over my pile of stuff, and I'll be glad when it's under cover.

It isn't the severity of punishment that keeps a man from going wrong, it's the certainty of it." "Well, he'd sure get it, and get it proper in this camp," declared Lee; and at that moment, as if his words had been a challenge, the flaps of the great tent were thrust aside, and Runnion half led, half threw a man into the open space before the bar.
"Let's have a look at you," he panted.

"Well, if it ain't a nigger!" "What's up ?" cried the men, crowding about the prisoner, who crouched, terror-stricken, in the trampled mud and moss, while those playing roulette and "bank" left the tables, followed by the dealers.
"He's a thief," said Runnion, mopping the sweat from his brow.

"I caught him after your grub pile, Stark." "In my cache ?" "Yes.