What's that, even with silver at a dollar an ounce?
It ain't good enough for Casey, and what I'm wastin' my time for, wearing the heels off'n my shoes prospectin' Starvation, is somethin' I can't tell yuh." He looked at me with his pale-blue, unwinking stare for a minute.
"Er--I can--and I guess the quicker it's out the better I'll feel." He took out his familiar plug of tobacco, always nibbled around the edges, always half the size of his four fingers.

I never saw Casey with a fresh plug in his pocket, and I never saw him down to one chew; it is one of the little mysteries in his life that I never quite solved.
"I been thinkin' about that devil's lantern we seen the other night," he said, when he had returned to his pocket the plug with a corner gone.
"They's something funny about that--the way it went over there and stood on the Tippipahs again.

I ain't sooperstitious.

But I can't git things outa my head.

I want to go hunt fer that mine of Injun Jim's.