cooking for two weeks at a stretch, and never kick--and _wash the
dishes, too_,--which last, as anybody knows, is crucifyin'er than
that smelter test of the three Jews in the Scripture. Underneath all
of his sunshine, though, I saw hints of an awful, aching, devilish,
starvation. It made me near hate the woman that caused it.

"He was a wise one, too. I've seen him stirring dog-feed with one
hand and spouting 'Gray's Elegy' with the other. I picked up a heap
of knowledge from him, for he had American history pat. One story I
liked particular was concerning the origin of placer mining in this
country, about a Greaser, Jason Somebody, who got the gold fever and
grub-staked a mob he called the Augerknots--carpenters, I judge, from
the mess they made of it. They chartered a schooner and prospected
along Asy Miner, wherever that is. I never seen any boys from there,
but the formation was wrong, like Texas, probably, 'cause they sort
of drifted into the sheep business. Of course, that was a long ways
back, before the '49 rush, but the way he told it was great.

"Well, two weeks after Windy left we worked out of that rich spot and
drifted into barren ground. Instead of a fortune, we'd sunk onto the
only yellow spot in the whole claim. We cross-cut in three places,
and never raised a colour, but we kept gophering around till March,
in hopes.

"'Why did I write that letter?' he asked one day. 'I'd give anything
to stop it before it gets out. Think of her disappointment when she
hears I'm broke!'

"'Nobody can't look into the ground,' says I. 'I don't mind losin'
out myself, for I've done it for twenty years and I sort of like it
now, but I'm sorry for the girl.'

"'It means another whole season,' he says. 'I wanted to see them
this summer, or bring them in next fall.'

"'Sufferin' sluice-boxes! Are you plumb daffy? Bring a woman into
the Yukon--and a little baby.'

"'She'd follow me anywhere. She's awful proud; proud as a Kentucky
girl can be, and those people would make your uncle Lucifer look like
a cringing cripple, but she'd live in an Indian hut with me.'

"'Sure! And follerin' out the simile, nobody but a Siwash would let
her. If she don't like some other feller better while you're gone,
what're you scared about?'

"He never answered; just looked at me pityfyin', as much as to say,
'Well, you poor, drivelin, old polyp!'

"One day Denny, the squaw-man, drove up the creek:

"'Windy Jim is ba