ly human critters in the world. There ain't no
house in sight, nor any signs of man's ever bein' here."

"So we can fancy how Adam felt when he was set down in Paradise,"
said Joe.

"I guess he felt kinder lonely."

"Probably he did, till Eve came. He had Eve, and I have you for
company."

"I guess Eve wasn't much like me," said Joshua, with a grin.

He was lying at full length on the greensward, looking awkward and
ungainly enough, but his countenance, homely as it was, looked honest
and trustworthy, and Joe preferred his company to that of many
possessed of more outward polish. He could not help smiling at Mr.
Bickford's remark.

"Probably Eve was not as robust as you are," he replied, "I doubt if
she were as tall, either. But as to loneliness, it is better to be
lonely than to have some company."

"There ain't no suspicious characters round, are there?" inquired
Joshua anxiously.

"We are liable to meet them--men who have been unsuccessful at the
mines and who have become desperate in consequence, and others who
came out here to prey upon others. That's what I hear."

"Do you think we shall meet any of the critters?" asked Joshua.

"I hope not. They wouldn't find it very profitable to attack us. We
haven't much money."

"I haven't," said Joshua. "I couldn't have got to the mines if you
hadn't lent me a few dollars."

"You have your animal. You can sell him for something."

"If he agrees to carry me so far," said Mr. Bickford, gazing
doubtfully at the mustang, who was evidently enjoying his evening
repast.

"Oh, a hearty meal will make him good-natured. That is the way it
acts with boys and men, and animals are not so very different."

"I guess you're right," said Joshua. "When I wanted to get a favor
out of dad, I always used to wait till the old man had got his belly
full. That made him kinder good-natured."

"I see you understand human nature, Mr. Bickford," said Joe.

"I guess I do," said Joshua complacently. "Great Jehoshaphat, who's
that?"

Joe raised his head and saw riding toward them a man who might have
sat for the photograph of a bandit without any alteration in his
countenance or apparel. He wore a red flannel shirt, pants of rough
cloth, a Mexican sombrero, had a bowie-knife stuck in his girdle, and
displayed a revolver rather ostentatiously. His hair, which he wore
long, was coarse and black, and he had a fierce mustache.

"Is he a robber?" asked Joshua uneasily.