When I did see fit to return to my native village, no man should be so calm, so cool, so self-possessed as John Flutter, Jr., mine-owner, late of the Rocky Mountains.

I felt very bold over the prospect.

I was not a bit bashful just then.

I joined the adventurers, paying them in money for my seat in their wagons, and my place at their camp-table.

In due time we reached the scene of action.
I would not go into any of the canvas villages which had sprung up like mushrooms.