Wa’al, do tell. If this ain’t luck. Mountain Jim! I ain’t never forgot that day on the Bow River that you saved me from that bunch of huskies that was goin’ to hold me up and take my dust away frum me. But come on out. Let’s shake your paw, old pal!”
Sorry, but I’m not receiving to-day,” responded[225] Mountain Jim. He hastened on to explain what had happened within the last few hours, interrupted constantly by Bitter Creek Jones’ astonished exclamations.
I heard an almighty firin’ an’ blazin’ away frum over this neck of the woods,” he said, and I jes’ nacherally come over ter see what in Sam Hill was goin’ forward. So ye’re all walled up, hey? Jes’ wait a jiffy while I take a look at that rock. It’ll be tough luck if Bitter Creek can’t get you out’n that mouse-trap without’n you havin’ ter ride fifty miles fer help.”
Do you think you can do anything, Mr. Jones?” asked Ralph, as the odd-looking stranger slipped off his sorry-appearing steed.
Say, Sonny, I’m plain Bitter Crik to my friends. I’m Mister Jones to them that don’t like me, see? So far as gittin’ Mountain Jim out’n that hole, it’ll be hard luck if I kain’t do it. Bitter Crik’s got gold out’n tougher places nor that, you kin bet your last red. Lucky I came along this[226] way, too. You see I’ve bin prospectin’ all through here, but it’s a rotten country. I’m going back to the States and ship to Alasky, when I git out’n the Rockies.”
Talking thus, Bitter Creek, who looked so ferocious, but proved so good-natured, examined the rock from all sides. As he carried on his investigations he hummed to himself like a man in deep thought.
At length he straightened up and hailed Jim.
I’ll get you out’n here, Jim,” he said.
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