“Did you ever play Lame Soldier, m’ friend?” was Sonora’s greeting, while the miners crowded around them.

“No,” replied the big, raw-boned, gullible-looking fellow with a grin.

“We’ll play it after school; you’ll be the stirrup,” promised Sonora; then turning to his mates with a laugh, which was unobserved by Bucking Billy, he added:  “We’ll initiate ’im.”

Presently the miners began to move away and Trinidad, picking up a chip which he espied under a bench, put it on his shoulder and stood in the centre of the room, thereby indirectly challenging the new pupil to a scrimmage.

“Don’t do it!” cried Old Steady as he hung up his hat upon a buck’s horn on the wall.

“Go on!  Go on!” encouraged Bill Crow, hanging up his hat beside Old Steady’s.

The boys took up his words in chorus.

“Go on!  Go on!”

Whereupon, Sonora made a dash far the chip and knocked it off of Trinidad’s shoulder, blazing huskily into his face as he did so: 

“You do, do you?”

In the twinkling of an eye Trinidad’s jacket was off and the two men were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle.

“Soak him!” came from a voice somewhere in the crowd.

“Hit him!” urged another.

“Bat him in the eye!” shrieked Handsome Charlie.

Finally Sonora succeeded in throwing down his opponent and sent him rolling along the floor, the contents of his pockets marking his trail.

The rafters of The Polka shook to a storm of cheering, and there is no telling when the men would have ceased had not Nick interfered at that moment by yelling out: 

“Boys, boys, here she is!”

“Here comes the Girl!” came simultaneously from Happy Halliday, who had got a glimpse of her coming down the trail.

None the worse for his defeat and fall, Trinidad sprang to his feet; while Sonora made a dash for a seat.  They had not been placed; whereupon he cried out excitedly: 

“The seats, boys, where’s the seats?”

For the few minutes that preceded the Girl’s entrance into the room no men were ever known to work more rapidly or more harmoniously.  They fairly flew in and out of the room, now bringing in the great whittled-up, weather-beaten benches and placing them in school-room fashion, and then rolling in boxes and casks which served as a ground-hold for the planks which were stretched across them for desks.  It was in the midst of these pilgrimages that Trinidad rushed over to Nick to ask whether he did not think to-day a good time to put the question to the Girl.

Nick’s eyes twinkled up with merriment; nevertheless, his face took on a dubious look when presently he answered: 

“I wouldn’t rush her, Trin—­you’ve got plenty of time . . .”  And when he proceeded to put up the blackboard he almost ran into Sonora, who stood by the teacher’s desk getting into his frock coat.

“Hurry up, boys, hurry up!” urged Trinidad, though he himself smilingly looked on.