mud and stone, and had no streets. Some few
yellow-and-brown persons popped their heads out-of-doors, looking about
like Welsh rabbits with Worcester sauce on em. Out of the biggest house,
that had a kind of a porch around it, steps a big white man, red as a
beet in color, dressed in fine tanned deerskin clothes, with a gold
chain around his neck, smoking a cigar. I've seen United States Senators
of his style of features and build, also head-waiters and cops.

"He walks up and takes a look at us, while McClintock disembarks and
begins to interpret to the lead mule while he smokes a cigarette.

"'Hello, Buttinsky,' says the fine man to me. 'How did you get in the
game? I didn't see you buy any chips. Who gave you the keys of the
city?'

"'I'm a poor traveller,' says I. 'Especially mule-back. You'll excuse
me. Do you run a hack line or only a bluff?'

"'Segregate yourself from your pseudo-equine quadruped,' says he, 'and
come inside.'

"He raises a finger, and a villager runs up.

"'This man will take care of your outfit,' says he, 'and I'll take care
of you.'

"He leads me into the biggest house, and sets out the chairs and a kind
of a drink the color of milk. It was the finest room I ever saw. The
stone walls was hung all over with silk shawls, and there was red and
yellow rugs on the floor, and jars of red pottery and Angora goat skins,
and enough bamboo furniture to misfurnish half a dozen seaside cottages.

"'In the first place,' says the man, 'you want to know who I am. I'm
sole lessee and proprietor of this tribe of Indians. They call me the
Grand Yacuma, which is to say King or Main Finger of the bunch. I've
got more power here than a charge d'affaires, a charge of dynamite, and
a charge account at Tiffany's combined. In fact, I'm the Big Stick,
with as many extra knots on it as there is on the record run of the
Lusitania. Oh, I read the papers now and then,' says he. 'Now, let's
hear your entitlements,' he goes on, 'and the meeting will be open.'

"'Well,' says I, 'I am known as one W. D. Finch. Occupation, capitalist.
Address, 541 East Thirty-second--'

"'New York,' chips in the Noble Grand. 'I know,' says he, grinning. 'It
ain't the first time you've seen it go down on the blotter. I can tell
by the way you hand it out. Well, explain "capitalist."'

"I tells this boss plain what I come for and how I come to came.

"'Gold-dust?' says he, looking as puzzled as a baby that's got a feather
stuck on it