the sign standing there. But at this time
it seemed not wholly suitable, in the opinion of Dan Anderson.

"They ain't goin' to understand that," said he. "They can't think the
way we do. Oh, why didn't that old fool Godfrey call their attention
the other way? Oh, that'll set fine, won't it, with a man comin' to
buy a coal mine, and a girl with a pot of white vaseline on her face
and a consumin' vision of tarantulas in her soul! This'll be another
case of New Jersey Gold Mill. Old Mr. Eastern Capital, why, he'll run
out at the same door wherein he went; that's what he'll do. And, oh,
doctors and saints, look at that, now!" Bill Godfrey was leaning out
of the coach-box and pointing with his whip. "He's showin' them the
town now," said Dan Anderson. "Why--I hadn't thought before but what
this place was all right."

I looked anxiously about, sharing his consternation. It had been our
world for these years, a world set apart, distant and unknown; but it
had been satisfactory until now. Never before that moment had the
scattering little one-story cabins of log and adobe seemed so small and
insignificant, so unfit for human occupancy. We were suddenly ashamed.

Dan Anderson, awaiting his fate, did not fly, but sat gravely on the
log in front of Uncle Jim's hotel, and waited for the creaking, stage,
white with far-gathered dust, to climb the last pitch of the road up
from the arroyo and come on with the shambling trot of a pair of tired
mules for the final nourish at the end of the long, dry trail.

He waited, and as the stagecoach, stopped, arose and walked steadily
forward. Another man might have smiled and stammered and nervously
have offered assistance to the newcomers; but Dan Anderson was master
of his faculties.

The curtains still concealed the tenant of the farther side of the rear
seat, when there appeared the passenger nearest to our side of the
coach,--a citizen of the eminently respectable sort, forty inches in
girth, and of gray chin whiskers and mustache. He was well shod and
well clad; so much could be seen as he climbed down between the wheels
and stood stamping his feet to shake the travel cramp out of his legs.
He looked thirsty and unhappy and bored. A flush of recognition
crossed his face when he saw the tall figure approaching him.

"Well, Andersen," Mr. Ellsworth said, extending a hand, "how are you?
Got here at last--awful drive. Where do we stop? You know my
daughter, of course.