when they
realized my mildness they told me with length and confidence about the
claims they had staked out on Mount Turnbull. "And there's lots of lead,
too," said yellow.

"I do not smelt," said I, "or deal in any way with ore. I have come here
without the intention of buying anything."

"You ain't the paymaster?" burst out black curly, wrinkling his forehead
like a pleasant dog.

Yellow touched his foot.

"Course he ain't!" said curly, with a swerve of his eye. "He ain't due.
What a while it always is waitin'!"

Now the paymaster was nothing to me, nor whom he paid. For all I knew,
my visitors were on his roll; and why yellow should shy at the mention
of him and closely watch his tipsy mate I did not try to guess. Like
every one I had met so far in Arizona, these two evidently doubted I was
here for my pleasure merely; but it was with entire good-humor that they
remarked a man had the right to mind his own business; and so, with a
little more whiskey, we made a friendly parting. They recommended me to
travel with a pistol in this country, and I explained that I should do
myself more harm than good with a weapon that any one handled more
rapidly than I, with my inexperience.

"Good-night, Mr. Meakum," I said.

"Follet," corrected black curly.

"Cunningham," said yellow, and they picked up their hats in the hall and
withdrew.

I think now those were their names--the time was coming when I should
hear them take oath on it--yet I do not know. I heard many curious oaths
taken.

I was glad to see black curly in the stage next day, not alone for his
company, but to give him a right notion of what ready money I had about
me. Thinking him over, and his absence of visible means of support, and
his interest in me, I took opportunity to mention, quite by the way,
that five or six dollars was all that I ever carried on my person, the
rest being in New York drafts, worthless in any hands but mine. And I
looked at the time once or twice for him to perceive the cheapness of my
nickel watch. That the Bishop was not his father I had indirect evidence
when we stopped at Thacher to change horses and drop a mail-sack, and
the Mormon divine suddenly lifted the flap and inspected us. He nodded
to me and gave Follet a message.

"Tell your brother" (wouldn't a father have said Tom or Dick?) "that
I've given him chances enough and he don't take 'em. He don't feed my
horses, and my passengers complain he don't feed them--though