CHAPTER XXI.
"Casey Ryan," the Little Woman began with her usual abruptness one evening, when she was able to walk as far as the mine and back without feeling; the effect of the exercise, but was still nursing a bandaged right hand; "Casey Ryan, tell me again just what old Injun Jim looked like." Casey laughed and shifted Babe to a more secure perch on his shoulder, and drew his head to one side in an effort to slacken Babe's terrific pull on his hair.

"Him?
Mean an' ornery as the meanest thing you can think of.
Sour as a dough can you've went off an' left for a coupla weeks in July." "Oh, yes; very explicit, I admit.

But just what did he look like?
Height, weight, age and chief characteristics.

I have," she explained, "a very-good reason for wanting a description of him." "What yuh want a description of him for?
He's good an' dead now." You see, Casey had reached the point of intimacy where he could argue with the Little Woman quite in his everyday Irish spirit of contention.
The Little Woman had spirit of her own, but she was surprisingly meek with Casey at times.

"It struck me quite suddenly, to-day, that I may know where that gold mine is; or about where it is," she said, with a hidden excitement in her voice.