"Bury it," ordered the superintendent, disgustedly. Two mules at
$350--quite a loss.

But next morning another had died; fairly an epidemic among mules. This
carcass also was ordered buried. And at noon a fourth. The
superintendent, on his way to view the defunct, ran across John Gates.

"Look here, John," queried he, "do you know anything about mules?"

"Considerable," admitted Gates.

"Well, come see if you can tell me what's killing ours off."

They contemplated the latest victim of the epidemic.

"Seems to be something that swells them up," ventured the superintendent
after a while.

John Gates said nothing for some time. Then suddenly he snatched his
pistol and levelled it at the shrinking _mozo_.

"Produce those three mules!" he roared, "_mucho pronto_, too!" To the
bewildered superintendent he explained. "Don't you see? this is the same
old original mule. He ain't never been buried at all. They've been
stealing your animals pretending they died, and using this one over and
over as proof!"

This proved to be the case; but John Gates was clever enough never to
tell how he surmised the truth.

"That mule looked to me pretty frazzled," was all he would say.

The frying-pan episode was the sequence of a quarrel. Gates was bringing
home a new frying pan. At the proper point in the discussion he used his
great strength to smash the implement over his opponent's head so
vigorously that it came down around his neck like a jagged collar! Gates
clung to the handle, however, and by it led his man all around camp, to
the huge delight of the populace.

As sheriff he was effective, but at times peculiar in his
administration. No man could have been more zealous in performing his
duty; yet he never would mix in the affairs of foreigners. Invariably in
such cases he made out the warrants in blank, swore in the complaining
parties themselves as deputies, and told them blandly to do their own
arresting! Nor at times did he fail to temper his duty with a little
substantial justice of his own. Thus he was once called upon to execute
a judgment for $30 against a poor family. Gates went down to the
premises, looked over the situation, talked to the man--a
poverty-stricken, discouraged, ague-shaken creature--and marched back to
the offices of the plaintiffs in the case.

"Here," said he, calmly, laying a paper and a small bag of gold dust on
their table, "is $30 and a receipt in full."

The complainant reached for the