"
"Yep. I got it somewhere about. I just been to see him."
He had the Proclamation in his hand.
"Durned little runt," he says. "He cut me down two hundred dollars
on that reward, plump! And he'd gi'n me his word! Why, you heard him!
He ought to be ashamed. I told him so. I says, 'You're no lady.' Nor
he ain't. Nor sporty, either. Squeals and wriggles."
"Paid you the reward, did he?"
"Why, of course, he couldn't miss his politics. It took him sudden,
though. He had a series of fits that was painful, painful." Then he
moved away, muttering, "Painful, painful!" climbed over the side, and
down the ladder, and went to California.
CHAPTER V.
END OF THE HOTEL HELEN MAR. CONTINUATION OF CAPTAIN BUCKINGHAM'S
NARRATIVE.
Sadler and Irish were gone, but Stevey Todd and I stayed on at
Portate, running the Hotel Helen Mar. Three years we ran her
altogether, and made money. I had a thought that by-and-by I'd go to
the Isthmus, and charter some kind of sloop, and dig out Clyde's
canvas bags, and so go back to Greenough sticky with glory. Whether
it was laziness or ambition kept me so long at Portate I couldn't
say. It was a pleasant life. It's a country where you don't notice
time.
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