“Indeed!”—­with an amused laugh—­“then you must have descended from a long line of respected ancestors.”

“Auntsisters?  Wa’al, I jest about reckon I do.  I hev got ther blood o’ Cain and Abel in my veins, boyee, an’ ef I ken’t raise the biggest kind o’ Cain tain’t because I ain’t able—­oh! no.  Pace anuther pilgrim?”

“I reckon.  How much have ye got piled up thar in that heap!”

“Squar’ ninety tens, my huckleberry, an’ all won fa’r, you bet.”

“Then it’s the first time you ever won anything fair, Cass Diamond!” exclaimed a voice close hand, and the two players looked up to see Ned Harris standing near by, with his hands clasped across his breast.

Calamity Jane nodded, indifferently.  She had seen the young miner on several occasions; once she had been rendered an invaluable service when he rescued her from a brawl in which a dozen toughs had attacked her.

“Cattymount” Cass, brother of Chet Diamond, the Deadwood card-king, recognized him also, and with an oath, sprung to his feet.

“By all the Celestyals!” he ejaculated, jerking forth a six-shooter—­“by all the roarin’, screechin, shriekin’, yowlin’, squawkin,’ ring-tailed, flat-futted cattymounts thet ever did ther forest aisles o’ old Alaska traverse! you here, ye infernal smooth-faced varmint? You heer, arter all ye’ve did to ride ther cittyzens o’ Deadwood inter rebellyun, ye leetle pigminian deputy uv ther devil?  Hurra! hurra! boys; let’s string him up ter ther nearest sapling!”

“Hal ha!” laughed Harris, coolly, “hear the coward squeal for his pard’s assistance.  Dassen’t stand on his own leather fer fear of gettin’ salted fer all he’s worth.”

“You’re a liar!” roared the “Cattymount” spreading himself about promiscuously, but the two words had scarcely left his lips when a blow from the fist of Ned Harris reached him under the left eye, and he went sprawling on the ground in a heap.

“Here! here!” roared a stranger, rushing in upon the scene, and hurling the crowd aside with a dexterity something wonderful.  “What is the meaning of all this?  Who knocked Cass Diamond down?”

“I had that honor!” coolly remarked Ned Harris, stepping boldly up and confronting the Deadwood card-king, for it was the notorious Chet Diamond who had asked the question.  “I smacked him in the gob, Chet Diamond, for calling me a liar, and am ready to accommodate a few more, if there are any who wish to prefer the same charge!”

“Bully, Ned! and here’s what will back you!” cried Calamity Jane, leaping to the miner’s side, a cocked six in either white, shapely hand; “so sail in, pilgrims!”

Diamond cowered back, and swore furiously.  The wound in his breast was yet sore and rankling, and he knew he owed it to the cool and calculating young miner whose name was an omen of terror among toe “toughs” of Deadwood.