It would have been well if,
for months to come, there could have been the same good reason for
abstinence, but, as a matter of fact, the very next day some casks
were brought into camp, much to the delighted and satisfaction of
the anti-temperance party.
Finally Dewey fell asleep, but his sleep was a troubled one. He had
unthinkingly reclined upon his back, and this generally brought bad
dreams. He woke with a start from a dream, in which it seemed to him
that the miners were about to hang Ki Sing from the branch of one of
the tall trees near-by, when he detected a stealthy step close at
hand.
Instantly he was on the alert. Turning his head, he caught sight of
a human figure nearing the tent. A second glance showed him that it
was O'Reilly, with a knife in his hand.
"Good heavens!" thought Dewey, "does he mean to kill the poor
Chinaman?"
A muttered sentence from O'Reilly reassured him on this point.
"Now, you yeller haythen, I'll cut off your pigtail in spite of that
impertinent friend of yours--Dick Dewey. I'll show you that an
O'Reilly isn't to be interfered wid."
"So he wants the poor fellow's queue, does he?" said Dewey to
himself.
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