tle, mostly
stolen I imagine; but he doesn't try to work the land. Moreover he's
established this community, composed of his suffering fellow exiles,
the secret of which lies in the fact that we work the cooperative
plan, and all chip in our remittances to boil the common pot. We can
keep more servants and buy more food and drink, that way, than if each
one of us lived separately."

"Up in Oregon," said Mr. Merrick, "I've known of some very successful
and prosperous ranchmen among the remittance men."

"Oh, we're all kinds, I suppose, good and bad," admitted Stubby. "This
crew's mostly bad, and they're moderately proud of it. It's a devil
of a life, sir, and Hades Ranch is well named. I've only been here a
month. Had a little property up North; but the sheriff took it for
debt, and that forced me to Algy, whom I detest. I think I'll move on,
before long. But you see I'm limited. Can't leave Arizona or I'll get
my remittance cut off."

"Why were you sent here into exile?" asked Myrtle artlessly.

He turned red and refused to meet her eyes.

"Went wrong, Miss," he said, "and my folks wouldn't stand for
it. We're all in the same boat," sweeping his arm around, "doing
punishment for our misdeeds."

"Do none of you ever reform?" inquired Patsy.

"What's the use? We're so far away from home no one there would ever
believe in our reformation. Once we become outcasts, that's the end
of our careers. We're buried in these Western wilds and allowed just
enough to keep alive."

"I would think," said Uncle John musingly, "that the manly way would
be to cut yourself off entirely from your people at home and go to
some city in the United States where honesty and industry would win a
new name for you. Then you could be respected and happy and become of
use to the world."

Stubby laughed.

"That has been tried," he replied; "but few ever made a success of it.
We're generally the kind that prefers idleness to work. My family is
wealthy, and I don't mind taking from them what little they give me
willingly and all that I can screw out of them besides. I'm in for
life, as the saying is, and I've no especial ambition except to drink
myself to death as soon as possible."

Patsy shuddered. It seemed a horrible thing to be so utterly hopeless.
Could this young fellow have really merited his fate?

CHAPTER XIII

THE FIDDLER

Tim had listened carelessly to the conversation until now, when he
said listlessly:

"Don't