\"Digs’emup，don’the？\"saidIkeoneSunday，whenthesecondflatofJimRoss’sstorewasfilledwithmenandwomenwho，thoughtheyhadlivedinthecountryforfromtwototwentyyears，werestillforthemostpartstrangerstoeachother。\"Digs’emupliketheboysdigthebadgers。Gottocomeoutoftheirholeswhenhegitsafter’em。\"
\"Dat’sso，\"saidPerault，whohadbecomeanardentfollowerofShock’s。\"Dat’sso。Allsamelakoleboss。\"
\"Prospector，eh？\"saidIke。
\"Oui。Prospector，sureenough，bygar！\"repliedPerault，withtheemphasisofamanwhohasstumbleduponagreatfind;andthenamecameatoncetoberecognisedassoeminentlysuitablethatfromthattimeforthitstuck，andallthemorethatbeforemanyweekstherewasnonetodisputethetitlewithhim。
AllthistimetheOldProspectorfrettedandwastedwithaninwardfeverthatbaffledthedoctor’sskill，andbutforthevisitsofhisfriendsandtheirconstantassurancesthatnextweekwouldseehimfit，theoldmanwouldhavesuccumbed。