He brought her up from the dapoo, an' kin talk English.

Say, Jim, this yere is a short horn frum New York, named Beaton, an' he seems ter be powerfully interested in skirts--Beaton, Mr.Jim Westcott." The two men looked at each other, the miner stepping slightly forward, and knocking the ashes out of his pipe.

Beaton laughed, assuming a semblance of good nature.
"My questions were prompted solely by curiosity," he explained, evidently not wholly at ease.

"I was expecting a young woman, and thought this new arrival might prove to be my friend." "Hardly," returned Westcott dryly.

"As the landlord informed you, Miss Donovan is a lady." If he expected this shot to take effect he was disappointed, for the grin never left Beaton's face.
"Ah, a good joke; a very good joke, indeed.