ter, an' thank you. This is Mr.
Minky, gents. My name's Bill."

The introduction acknowledged, talk flowed freely. Wild Bill, in
carefully toned down manner, engaged the strangers in polite talk,
answering their questions about the gold prospects of the place, which
were often pointed, in the most genial and even loquacious manner. He
told them a great deal of the history of the place, warned them that
Suffering Creek was not the sinecure the outside world had been told,
endorsed Minky's story that what Suffering Creek really needed was
capital to reach the true wealth of the place. And, in the course of
the talk, drink flowed freely.

Bill was always supplied with his drink from a different bottle to
that out of which the strangers were served. As a matter of fact, he
was probably the most temperate man on Suffering Creek, and, by an
arrangement with Minky, so as not to spoil trade, drank from a bottle
of colored water when the necessity for refreshment arose. But just
now his manner suggested that he had drunk quite as much whisky as the
strangers. His spirits rose with theirs, and his jocularity and levity
matched theirs, step by step, as they went on talking.

The man Longley had spoken of the settlement as being "one-horsed,"
and Billy promptly agreed.

"It sure is," he cried. "We ain't got nothing but this yer canteen,
with ol' Minky doin' his best to pizen us. Still, we get along in a
ways. Mebbe we could do wi' a dancin'-hall--if we had females around.
Then I'd say a bank would be an elegant addition to things. Y'see, we
hev to ship our gold outside. Leastways, that's wot we used to do,
I've heard. Y'see, I ain't in the minin' business," he added, by way
of accounting for his lack of personal knowledge.

"Ah!" said Joe. "Maybe you're 'commercial'?"

Bill laughed so genially that the others joined in it.

"In a ways, mebbe I am. You see, I mostly sit around, an' when
anything promisin' comes along, why, I ain't above plankin' a few
dollars by way of--speculation."

Joe grinned broadly.

"A few shares in a poker hand, eh?" he suggested shrewdly.

"You're kind o' quick, mister," Bill laughed. "I'm stuck on 'draw'
some."

Then the talk drifted suddenly. It was Longley who presently harked
back to the commercial side of Suffering Creek.

"You was sayin' ther' wasn't no bank on Suffering Creek," he said
interestedly. "What do folks do with their dust now, then?"

A quick but almost imperceptible glanc