of resigned patience.

"I'm sorry for you, boys," he said slowly, "and" (diffidently) "kinder
sorry for myself, too. You see, I reckoned on goin' over to Skinner's
to-morrow, to fill up the pork bar'l and vote for Mesick and the
wagon-road. But Skinner can't let me have anything more until I've
paid suthin' on account, as he calls it."

"D'ye mean to say thar's any mountain man as low flung and mean as
that?" said Uncle Dick indignantly.

"But it isn't HIS fault," said Collinson gently; "you see, they won't
send him goods from Sacramento if he don't pay up, and he CAN'T if I
DON'T. Sabe?"

"Ah! that's another thing. They ARE mean--in Sacramento," said Uncle
Dick, somewhat mollified.

The other guests murmured an assent to this general proposition.
Suddenly Uncle Dick's face brightened.

"Look here! I know Skinner, and I'll stop there-- No, blank it all! I
can't, for it's off my route! Well, then, we'll fix it this way. Key
will go there and tell Skinner that I say that I'LL send the money to
that Sacramento hound. That'll fix it!"

Collinson's brow cleared; the solution of the difficulty seemed to
satisfy everybody, and the close-shaven man smiled.

"And I'll secure it," he said, "and give Collinson a sight draft on
myself at San Francisco."

"What's that for?" said Collinson, with a sudden suffusion on each
cheek.

"In case of accident."

"Wot accident?" persisted Collinson, with a dark look of suspicion on
his usually placid face.

"In case we should forget it," said the close-shaven man, with a laugh.

"And do you suppose that if you boys went and forgot it that I'd have
anything to do with your d--d paper?" said Collinson, a murky cloud
coming into his eyes.

"Why, that's only business, Colly," interposed Uncle Dick quickly;
"that's all Jim Parker means; he's a business man, don't you see.
Suppose we got killed! You've that draft to show."

"Show who?" growled Collinson.

"Why,--hang it!--our friends, our heirs, our relations--to get your
money, hesitated Uncle Dick.

"And do you kalkilate," said Collinson, with deeply laboring breath,
"that if you got killed, that I'd be coming on your folks for the worth
of the d--d truck I giv ye? Go 'way! Lemme git out o' this. You're
makin' me tired." He stalked to the door, lit his pipe, and began to
walk up and down the gravelly river-bed. Uncle Dick followed him.
From time to time the two other guests heard the sounds of alternate
prot