“He certainly drops a little of his money at draw poker, Zeenie,” said Clinch, laughing.  “He lost five thousand dollars to Sheriff Kelly last week.”

“Well, I don’t hear of the sheriff huntin’ him to give it back, nor do I reckon Kelly handed it over to the Express it was taken from.  I heard you won suthin’ from him a spell ago.  I reckon you’ve been huntin’ him to find out whar you should return it.”  The laugh was clearly against Clinch.  He was about to make some rallying rejoinder when the young girl suddenly interrupted him.  “Ef you’re wantin’ to hunt somebody, why don’t you take higher game?  Thar’s that Jim Harkins:  go for him, and I’ll join you.”

“Harkins!” exclaimed Clinch and Hale simultaneously.

“Yes, Jim Harkins; do you know him?” she said, glancing from one to the other.

“One of my friends do,” said Clinch laughing; “but don’t let that stop you.”

“And you—­over there,” continued Zenobia, bending her head and eyes towards Hale.

“The fact is—­I believe he was my banker,” said Hale, with a smile.  “I don’t know him personally.”

“Then you’d better hunt him before he does you.”

“What’s he done, Zeenie?” asked Rawlins, keenly enjoying the discomfiture of the others.

“What?” She stopped, threw her long black braids over her shoulder, clasped her knee with her hands, and rocking backwards and forwards, sublimely unconscious of the apparition of a slim ankle and half-dropped-off slipper from under her shortened gown, continued, “It mightn’t please him,” she said slyly, nodding towards Hale.

“Pray don’t mind me,” said Hale, with unnecessary eagerness.

“Well,” said Zenobia, “I reckon you all know Ned Falkner and the Excelsior Ditch?”

“Yes, Falkner’s the superintendent of it,” said Rawlins.  “And a square man too.  Thar ain’t anything mean about him.”

“Shake,” said Zenobia, extending her hand.  Rawlins shook the proffered hand with eager spontaneousness, and the girl resumed:  “He’s about ez good ez they make ’em—­you bet.  Well, you know Ned has put all his money, and all his strength, and all his sabe, and—­”

“His good looks,” added Clinch mischievously.

“Into that Ditch,” continued Zenobia, ignoring the interruption.  “It’s his mother, it’s his sweetheart, it’s his everything!  When other chaps of his age was cavortin’ round Frisco, and havin’ high jinks, Ned was in his Ditch.  ‘Wait till the Ditch is done,’ he used to say.  ’Wait till she begins to boom, and then you just stand round.’  Mor’n that, he got all the boys to put in their last cent—­for they loved Ned, and love him now, like ez ef he wos a woman.”

“That’s so,” said Clinch and Rawlins simultaneously, “and he’s worth it.”