David Stratton, the Camp Hope drunkard, has sunk so low he will do almost anything for a slug of fuel oil. His poor wife bends by day over a washtub to secure a little money which he frequently coaxes from her to spend by night in the saloon. About the only work that the bibulous Stratton will essay is sharpening the tools of the miners, who reward him with drinks at the bar. One day, Slick Slade, a gambler, shoots Harry Custer, a miner, and in the melee which ensues, Slade rushes out of the rear door of the saloon, knocks Dave over his grindstone breaking this only implement of his occupation. Dave has been accumulating thirst for at least thirty minutes and is very much wroth over the destruction of further opportunity to satisfy it, picks up the broken pieces of the grindstone and is about to hurl them through the saloon window at the group lined up along the counter of the thirst parlor, when he hesitates and finds that it is rich in traces of silver. Some flash of the old ...
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