As we waited at the foot of the shaft to be run up in the bucket he was still talking.
He was boasting again, as I'd known he would.

And that was the chance I'd been waiting for a' the time.
"Man, Jock," I said, "ye should ha' had that pistol wi' ye--the one with which ye killed all the outlaws on the American veldt.

Then ye could ha' shot him." "That shows how much you know, young Harry Lauder!" he said, scornfully.

"Would a pistol bullet hurt a ghost?
Talk of what ye ha' some knowledge of----" "Aye," I said.

"That's good advice, Jock.