"Don car fido," repeated Frenchy. "And what eef you do not accep' le
invite?"
The Kentuckian looked grave, slowly shook his head, and finally answered
in despair:
"You've got me there, Frenchy!"
The Californian laughed heartily--rather too heartily, Keeler thought;
and then inquired:
"Going East or West?"
"Westward for me," replied Keeler; "and you?"
"Well, I reckon I've played my last game of poker in Nevada City. The
East for me. With a little dust for capital, this country seems right
good. Why, out there in the Sierras, you know as well as I do, the
soil's too poor to feed lizards. Not much like the blue grass country of
Kaintuck."
"Well," said Keeler, "if I had made my pile, Maryland would be good
enough for me. As it is, California is all right, barring those same
pesky lizards."
"The boys set too stiff a pace out there, though," replied the ex-miner.
"Why, many a Saturday night I've seen fellows drop into town with a
hundred and fifty dollars in dust, and then borrow the money to take the
stage out Monday morning."
"I don't go in for sporting myself," said Keeler, "so I guess my
character won't be ruined.
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