"I reckon I'll have to do some washin' myself, though, before I feel satisfied there ain't." "Then you haven't panned out anything yet ?" Phoebe caught him up.
Stanley's eyes flickered a questioning glance at Baumberger, and Baumberger puffed out his chest and said: "The law won't permit you to despoil this man's property without good reason.

We can serve an injunction--" "You can serve and be darned." Stanley's grin returned, wider than before.
"As Mr.Hart's legal adviser," Baumberger began, in the tone he employed in the courtroom--a tone which held no hint of his wheezy chuckle or his oily reassurance--"I hereby demand that you leave this claim which you have staked out upon Thomas Hart's ranch, and protest that your continued presence here, after twenty-four hours have expired, will be looked upon as malicious trespass, and treated as such." Stanley still grinned.

"As my own legal adviser," he returned calmly, "I hereby declare that you can go plumb to HEL-ena." Stanley evidently felt impelled to adapt his vocabulary to feminine ears, for he glanced at them deprecatingly and as if he wished them elsewhere.
If either Stanley or Baumberger had chanced to look toward Good Indian, he might have wondered why that young man had come, of a sudden, to resemble so strongly his mother's people.

He had that stoniness of expression which betrays strong emotion held rigidly in check, with which his quivering nostrils and the light in his half-shut eyes contrasted strangely.

He had missed no fleeting glance, no guarded tone, and he was thinking and weighing and measuring every impression as it came to him.