close quarters with some real wickedness, that to tell him the truth
might shorten the few days he has left.'

"Captain Bill smiled grimly.

"'Wickedness? Lord love you! _He_ couldn't see any. He'd go through
'Frisco, and out at the far end, without so much as guessing the
place had a seamy side to it. His innocence,' pursued the captain,
'is unusual. I guess that's why we're taking so much care of him.
But I must say you've been spry.'

"'Upon my word, I can't at this moment make head or tail of the
business. I met Miss Montmorency on the road--'

"'I guess she was looking like a Montmorency, too. Flyheel Flo is
her name hereabouts; alluding to her former profession of
circus-rider. Perhaps I'd better put the facts straight for you.'

"'I wish you would.'

"'Well, it'll be about two months back that the Bishop came to
Eucalyptus. We were most of us here in Simpson's bar when the coach
drove up at nine o'clock--same time as it dropped you last night--and
we loafed out to have a look. There was only one passenger got down;
and he seemed of no account--a weedy-looking youngster with a small
valise--looked like he might have come to be bartender to one of the
small saloons. It was dark out there, you understand: nothing to see
by but the lamps of the coach and the light of the doorway; besides
which the fellow was pretty well muffled up in a heavy coat and
wraps. Anyway he didn't seem worth a second look; so when the coach
moved on we just sauntered back here, and I don't reckon there was a
man in the room knew he'd followed us till he lifted up that reedy
voice of his. 'Gentlemen,' he piped out, 'would some one of you be
kind enough to direct me to a nice, comfortable lodging?'
Old Huz-and-Buz was drinking here with his back to the door.
'Great Caesar's ghost!' he called out, dropping his glass, 'what 'n
thunder's that?' 'Gentlemen,' pipes up the young man again, 'I am a
stranger, this moment arrived by the coach; and it would be a real
kindness to direct me to a comfortable lodging." By this time he'd
unwound the muffler about his neck and unbuttoned his outer wraps
generally, and we saw he was rigged out in genuine sky-pilot's
uniform. We hadn't seen one of that profession in Eucalyptus for
more'n two years. 'I'm afraid, your reverence,' says one of the
boys, mimicking the poor lad's talk, 'I'm afraid the accommodation of
this camp will hardly reach up to your style. I guess what _you_
want is a