and sent the flames dancing up the chimney; "and here's a pitcher of
hard cider whenever you feel the need of a little refreshment. You ain't
a married man I would judge, Mr. Hinton."

"Thank the Lord, no!" exclaimed Hinton.

"Well," said Mr. Opp, pursing his lips and smiling, "you know that's
just where I think us young men are making a mistake."

"Matrimony," said Hinton, "is about the only catastrophe that hasn't
befallen me during my short and rocky career."

"See here," said Mr. Opp, "I used to feel that way, too."

"Before you met her?" suggested Hinton.

Mr. Opp looked pleased but embarrassed. "I can't deny there is a young
lady," he said; "but she is quite young as yet. In fact, I don't mind
telling you she's just about half my age."

Hinton, instead of putting two and two together, added eighteen to
eighteen. "And you are about thirty-six?" he asked.

"Exactly," said Mr. Opp, surprised. "I am most generally considered a
long sight younger."

From matrimony the conversation drifted to oil-wells, then to
journalism, and finally to a philosophical discussion of life itself.
Mr. Opp got beyond his depth again and again, and at times he became so
absorbed that he gave a very poor imitation of himself, and showed
signs of humility that were rarely if ever visible.

Hinton meantime was taking soundings, and sometimes his plummet stopped
where it started, and sometimes it dropped to an unexpected depth.

"Well," he said at last, rising, "we must go to bed. You'll go on
climbing a ladder in the air, and I'll go on burrowing like a mole in
the ground, and what is the good of it all? What chance have either of
us for coming out anywhere? You can fool yourself; I can't: that's the
difference."

Mr. Opp's unusual mental exertions had apparently affected his entire
body, his legs were tightly wrapped about each other, his arms were
locked, and his features were drawn into an amazing pucker of protest.

"That ain't it," he said emphatically, struggling valiantly to express
his conviction: "this here life business ain't run on any such small
scale as that. According to my notion, or understanding,
it's--well--what you might call, in military figures, a fight." He
paused a moment and tied himself if possible even into a tighter knot,
then proceeded slowly, groping his way: "Of course there's some that
just remains around in camp, afraid to fight and afraid to desert, just
sort of indulging in conversation, you m