Take a piece of pie, won't you ?" he continued, abandoning this abstract reflection and producing half a flat pumpkin pie from the bar.

Spencer Tucker grasped the pie with one hand and his friend's fingers with the other, and for a few moments was silent from the hurried deglutition of viand and sentiment.
"_You're_ a white man, Patterson, any way," he resumed.

"I'll take your horse, and put it down in our account at your own figure.

As soon as this cursed thing is blown over, I'll be back here and see you through, you bet! I don't desert my friends, however rough things go with me." "I see you don't," returned Patterson, with an unconscious and serious simplicity that had the effect of the most exquisite irony.

"I was only just saying to the sheriff that if there was anything I could have done for you, you wouldn't have cut away without letting me know." Tucker glanced uneasily at Patterson, who continued, "Ye ain't wanting anything else ?" Then observing that his former friend and patron was roughly but newly clothed, and betrayed no trace of his last escapade, he added, "I see you've got a fresh harness." "That d--d Chinaman bought me these at the landing.