sit his folks, and I'm the only one in town
that can perform the dispensations of marriage. I promised Eddie and
Rebosa a month ago I'd marry 'em. He's a busy lad; and he'll have a
grocery of his own some day."

"He will," says I.

"There was lots of women at the wedding," says Mack, smoking up. "But
I didn't seem to get any ideas from 'em. I wish I was informed in the
structure of their attainments like you said you was."

"That was two months ago," says I, reaching up for the banjo.

III

TELEMACHUS, FRIEND

Returning from a hunting trip, I waited at the little town of Los
Pinos, in New Mexico, for the south-bound train, which was one hour
late. I sat on the porch of the Summit House and discussed the
functions of life with Telemachus Hicks, the hotel proprietor.

Perceiving that personalities were not out of order, I asked him what
species of beast had long ago twisted and mutilated his left ear.
Being a hunter, I was concerned in the evils that may befall one in
the pursuit of game.

"That ear," says Hicks, "is the relic of true friendship."

"An accident?" I persisted.

"No friendship is an accident," said Telemachus; and I was silent.

"The only perfect case of true friendship I ever knew," went on my
host, "was a cordial intent between a Connecticut man and a monkey.
The monkey climbed palms in Barranquilla and threw down cocoanuts to
the man. The man sawed them in two and made dippers, which he sold for
two _reales_ each and bought rum. The monkey drank the milk of the
nuts. Through each being satisfied with his own share of the graft,
they lived like brothers.

"But in the case of human beings, friendship is a transitory art,
subject to discontinuance without further notice.

"I had a friend once, of the entitlement of Paisley Fish, that I
imagined was sealed to me for an endless space of time. Side by side
for seven years we had mined, ranched, sold patent churns, herded
sheep, took photographs and other things, built wire fences, and
picked prunes. Thinks I, neither homocide nor flattery nor riches nor
sophistry nor drink can make trouble between me and Paisley Fish. We
was friends an amount you could hardly guess at. We was friends in
business, and we let our amicable qualities lap over and season our
hours of recreation and folly. We certainly had days of Damon and
nights of Pythias.

"One summer me and Paisley gallops down into these San Andres
mountains for the purpose of a mont