Talking earnestly with Mr. Butts, French Charlie pushed heavily past the Boy on his way to the bar.  From his gait it was clear that he had made many similar visits that evening.  In his thick Canadian accent Charlie was saying: 

“I blowed out a lot o’ dust for dat girl.  She’s wearin’ my di’mon’ now, and won’t look at me.  Say, Butts, I’ll give you twenty dollars if you sneak dat ring.”

“Done with you,” says Butts, as calm as a summer’s day.  In two minutes Maudie was twirling about with the handy gentleman, who seemed as accomplished with his toes as he was reputed to be with his fingers.

He came up with her presently and ordered some wine.

“Wine, b-gosh!” muttered Charlie in drunken appreciation, propping himself against the wall again, and always slipping sideways.  “Y’ tink he’s d’ fines’ sor’ fella, don’t you?  Hein?  Wai’ ’n see!”

The wine disappears and the two go off for another dance.  Inside of ten minutes up comes Butts and passes something to French Charlie.  That gentleman laughs tipsily, and, leaning on Butts’s arm, makes his way to the scales.

“Weigh out twen’ dollars dis gen’man,” he ordered.

Butts pulled up the string of his poke and slipped to one side, as noise reached the group at the bar of a commotion at the other end of the saloon.

“My ring! it’s gone!  My diamond ring!  Now, you’ve got it”; and Maudie came running out from the dancers after one of the Woodworth gentlemen.

Charlie straightened up and grinned, almost sobered in excess of joy and satisfied revenge.  The Woodworth gentleman is searched and presently exonerated.  Everybody is told of the loss, every nook and corner investigated.  Maudie goes down on hands and knees, even creeping behind the bar.

“I know’d she go on somethin’ awful,” said Charlie, so gleefully that Bonsor, the proprietor of the Gold Nugget, began to look upon him with suspicion.

When Maudie reappeared, flushed, and with disordered hair, after her excursion under the counter, French Charlie confronted her.

“Looky here.  You treated me blame mean, Maudie; but wha’d’ you say if I’s to off’ a rewar’ for dat ring?”

“Reward!  A healthy lot o’ good that would do.”

“Oh, very well; ‘f you don’ wan’ de ring back—­”

“I do, Charlie.”

He hammered on the bar.

“Ev’body gottah look fur ring.  I give a hunner ’n fifty dollah rewar’.”

Maudie stared at the princely offer.  But instantly the commotion was greater than ever.  “Ev’body” did what was expected of them, especially Mr. Butts.  They flew about, looking in possible and impossible places, laughing, screaming, tumbling over one another.  In the midst of the uproar French Charlie lurches up to Maudie.

“Dat look anyt’in’ like it?”

“Oh, Charlie!"

She looked the gratitude she could not on the instant speak.