ample the shanty."

He was not, however, so far in advance of them but that the others could
hear quite distinctly his offhand introduction of their party on the
threshold, and the somewhat lukewarm response of the inmates. "We
thought we'd just drop in and be sociable until the coach was ready to
start again," he continued, as the other passengers entered. "This yer
gentleman is Ned Brice, Adams & Co.'s expressman; this yer is Frank
Frenshaw, editor of the 'Mountain Banner;' this yer's a lady, so it
ain't necessary to give HER name, I reckon--even if we knowed it! Mine's
Sam Hexshill, of Hexshill & Dobbs's Flour Mills, of Stockton, whar,
ef you ever come that way, I'll be happy to return the compliment and
hospitality."

The room they had entered had little of comfort and brightness in it
except the fire of pine logs which roared and crackled in the adobe
chimney. The air would have been too warm but for the strong west wind
and rain which entered the open door freely. There was no other light
than the fire, and its tremulous and ever-changing brilliancy gave a
spasmodic mobility to the faces of those turned towards it, or threw
into stronger shadow the features that were turned away. Yet, by this
uncertain light, they could see the figures of a man and two women. The
man rose and, with a certain apathetic gesture that seemed to partake
more of weariness and long suffering than positive discourtesy, tendered
seats on chairs, boxes, and even logs to the self-invited guests. The
stage party were surprised to see that this man was the stranger who had
held the lantern in the road.

"Ah! then you didn't go with Bill to help clear the road?" said the
expressman surprisedly.

The man slowly drew up his tall, shambling figure before the fire, and
then facing them, with his hands behind him, as slowly lowered himself
again as if to bring his speech to the level of his hearers and give a
lazier and more deliberate effect to his long-drawn utterance.

"Well--no!" he said slowly.
"I--didn't--go--with--no--Bill--to--help--clear--the road!
I--don't--reckon--TO go--with--no--Bill--to--clear--ANY road! I've just
whittled this thing down to a pint, and it's this--I ain't no stage
kempany's nigger! So far as turnin' out and warnin' 'em agin goin' to
smash over a fallen tree, and slap down into the canyon with a passel of
innercent passengers, I'm that much a white man, but I ain't no NIGGER
to work clearing things away for 'em, n