you'll git to work, you old galoot, and stop playin' parson and
goody-goody games. You don't git nothing here without the chink. So
perhaps you'll git to work at last."

A red-nosed henchman of the gambler's put in a word.

"I don't see why you 'ain't gone to work," he said.

"Don't you?" drawled Jim, leaning on the counter to survey the speaker.
"Well, it looks to me as if you found out, long ago, that all work and
no play makes a man a Yankee."

"I ain't no Yankee, you kin bet on that!" said the man.

"That's pretty near incredible," drawled Jim.

"And I ain't neither," declared the gambler, who boasted of being
Canadian. "Don't you forget that, old boy."

"No," Jim slowly replied, "I've often noticed that all that glitters
ain't American."

"Well, you can clear out of here and notice how things look outside,"
retorted Parky.

Jim was slowly straightening up when the blacksmith and the teamster
entered the place. They had heard the gambler's order and were
thoroughly astounded. No man, howsoever poor and unprepared to pay a
wretched bill, had ever been treated thus in Borealis before.