ay in a slight depression scooped
out by the wind.

Nearest to the rough pine box stood the widow, with lowered eyes, but
without the trace of an expression on her face. Heavy-handed,
red-faced, gaunt and grim, Cassidy loomed up beside her. Behind them,
in attitudes of more or less perfunctory interest, stood a
white-capped cook from the commissary-tent, who had come out to get
away from the flies, two vague-visaged unknowns from the vast
under-world of hobodom, and a greasy, loose-lipped fireman with a
dirty red sweater and a contemptuous eye.

"Go on!" whispered the woman. She threw one of her swift, compelling
glances at Cassidy. "Say something!" And Cassidy obeyed; he could not
have refused if he had tried.

It became at once apparent that he must make no rambling talk. The
history of the past five days, while illuminating and diverting, could
not be calculated to inspire the casual onlooker with religious awe.
If aught was to be said, it must, perforce, be meaty and direct.

Cassidy grasped the irritating fireman firmly by the arm. Fixing him
with a baleful eye, he spoke:

"This yere lady has wanted me to say something tuh yuh about her
husband dyin'. As far as I kin understand, that part is all right.
That's what he done. He's dead, all right; there ain't no mistake
about _that_. Wot I'm askin' _yuh_ is: Was he a _man_? Was he good for
anything? Wot did he do when he wasn't workin'? Was he a low, mean
cuss, always goin' round with bums?"

"How do I know?" asked the fireman, in an aggrieved tone. "Ouch! Say,
leggo my arm!"

Cassidy's grip tightened. The fireman groaned dismally and subsided.

"Judgin' from wot I kin see, I should say he was! I mean he _was_ good
fer something. I should say he was surely a terrible weaver if he
couldn't keep straight, hitched up alongside of the--the lamented
widow. I don't think any feller could be much if he wasn't. Yuh see,
pardner, he had _all the chance in the world_. _He_ didn't need to be
jay-hawkin' round, makin' eyes at every red-cheeked biscuit-shooter
that fed him hot cakes. _He_ had a nice ranch and a good wife. A
feller that couldn't be grateful tuh a woman that's treated him as
good as she has to-day, and hauled him clear from Willow Springs tuh
git a Christian burial, and stood around fer him in a hot sun--well,
he couldn't be no account _at all_!"

Cassidy paused and spat. "That's the way _I_ look at it. And,"
thwarting the restive fireman by a startlingl