one second. I wouldn't stay in that country then for a million dollars
a minute. I was plumb sick and loathin' it, and just waitin' to make
high jumps back to Arizona. So I wasn't aimin' to join this stampede,
and didn't have no vivid emotions.

They got to fightin' on which should get the first hoss; so I bent my
gun on them and made them draw lots. They roared some more, but done
so; and as fast as each one handed over his dust or dinero he made a
rush for his cabin, piled on his saddle and pack, and pulled his
freight on a cloud of dust. It was sure a grand stampede, and I
enjoyed it no limit.

So by sundown I was alone with the Injin. Those two hundred head
brought in about twenty thousand dollars. It was heavy, but I could
carry it. I was about alone in the landscape; and there were the two
best hosses I had saved out for Dutchy. I was sure some tempted. But
I had enough to get home on anyway; and I never yet drank behind the
bar, even if I might hold up the saloon from the floor. So I grieved
some inside that I was so tur'ble conscientious, shouldered the sacks,
and went down to find Dutchy.

I met him headed his way, and carryin' of a sheet of paper.

"Here's your dinero," says I, dumpin' the four big sacks on the ground.

He stooped over and hefted them. Then he passed one over to me.

"What's that for?" I asks.

"For you," says he.

"My commission ain't that much," I objects.

"You've earned it," says he, "and you might have skipped with the whole
wad."

"How did you know I wouldn't?" I asks.

"Well," says he, and I noted that jag of his had flew. "You see, I was
behind that rock up there, and I had you covered."

I saw; and I began to feel better about bein' so tur'ble conscientious.

We walked a little ways without sayin' nothin'.

"But ain't you goin' to join the game?" I asks.

"Guess not," says he, jinglin' of his gold. "I'm satisfied."

"But if you don't get a wiggle on you, you are sure goin' to get left
on those gold claims," says I.

"There ain't no gold claims," says he.

"But Henry Smith--" I cries.

"There ain't no Henry Smith," says he.

I let that soak in about six inches.

"But there's a Buck Canon," I pleads. "Please say there's a Buck Canon."

"Oh, yes, there's a Buck Canon," he allows. "Nice limestone
formation--make good hard water."

"Well, you're a marvel," says I.

We walked together down to Dutchy's saloon.

We stopped outside.

"Now," says