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Old Greenwood suddenly broke out, "Have we left the mines an' come this

fur fer nothin'? I tell ye, we must have supplies! A hundred dollars fer

a pick! A hundred dollars fer a shovel! A hundred dollars fer a pair o'

blankets! An ounce fer a box of sardines, damn ye! An ounce fer half a

pound o' butter! A half ounce fer a aig! Anything ye like fer anything

that's green! Three hundred fer a gallon o' likker! A ounce for a box o'

pills! Eight hundred fer a barrel o' flour! Saar, same fer coffee! Damn yer picayune hides, we'll shohat

prices is! What's old that it it all ant! Hooray fer Californy!"

He broke into song His co from one to another of the current ditties of the ood oldoff to yet another classic ballad: There was an old woot shot, and Jiot lost and never was found,

And that was the end of the wo finished the obsequies of the three sons, not once but many

ti Old

Greenwood, who stood with head thrown back and sang with tones of

Bashan: Oh, then Susannah,