and night out every guest at Twenty Mile was either happy and
full of whiskey, or else his friends were making arrangements for his
funeral. There was water at Twenty Mile--the only water for twoscore of
miles. Consequently it was an important station on the road between the
southern country and Old Camp Grant, and the new mines north of the
Mescal Range. The stunt, liquor-perfumed adobe cabin lay on the gray
floor of the desert like an isolated slab of chocolate. A corral, two
desolate stable-sheds, and the slowly turning windmill were all else.
Here Ephraim and one or two helpers abode, armed against Indians, and
selling whiskey. Variety in their vocation of drinking and killing was
brought them by the travellers. These passed and passed through the
glaring vacant months--some days only one ragged fortune-hunter, riding
a pony; again by twos and threes, with high-loaded burros; and sometimes
they came in companies, walking beside their clanking freight-wagons.
Some were young, and some were old, and all drank whiskey, and wore
knives and guns to keep each other civil. Most of them were bound for
the mines, and some of them sometimes returned. No man trusted the next
man, and their names, when they had any, would be O'Rafferty, Angus,
Schwartzmeyer, Jose Maria, and Smith. All stopped for one night; some
longer, remaining drunk and profitable to Ephraim; now and then one
stayed permanently, and had a fence built round him. Whoever came, and
whatever befell them, Twenty Mile was chronically hilarious after
sundown--a dot of riot in the dumb Arizona night.

On this particular evening they had a tenderfoot. The boy, being new in
Arizona, still trusted his neighbor. Such people turned up occasionally.
This one had paid for everybody's drink several times, because he felt
friendly, and never noticed that nobody ever paid for his. They had
played cards with him, stolen his spurs, and now they were making him
dance. It was an ancient pastime; yet two or three were glad to stand
round and watch it, because it was some time since they had been to the
opera. Now the tenderfoot had misunderstood these friends at the
beginning, supposing himself to be among good fellows, and they
therefore naturally set him down as a fool. But even while dancing you
may learn much, and suddenly. The boy, besides being limber, had good
tough black hair, and it was not in fear, but with a cold blue eye, that
he looked at the old gentleman. The troubl