ez ef we wuz a menagerie."

The youth approached slowly, stared through the crowd, and finally
asked:

"Is there any one here from Pawkin Centre?"

No one responded.

"Some men went out to Californy from Pawkin Centre, and I didn't know
but some of 'em was here. I come from ther' myself--my name's Mix," the
youth continued..

"Meanin' no disrespect to your dad," said the colonel, "Mr. Mix, Senior,
ortn't to hev let you come out here--you ain't strong enough--you'll git
fever 'n ager 'fore you've washed dirt half a day."

"I ain't got no dad," replied the stranger; "leastways he ran away ten
years ago, an' mother had a powerful hard time since, a-bringin' up the
young uns, an' we thought I might help along a big sight if I was out
here."

The colonel was not what in the States would be called a prayer-meeting
man, but he looked steadily at the young man, and inwardly breathed a
very earnest "God have mercy on you all." Then he came back to the more
immediate present, and, looking about, asked:

"Who's got sleepin'-room for this young man?"

"I hev," quickly answered Grump, who had approached, unnoticed, while
the newcomer was being interviewed.

Every one started, and Grump's countenance did not gather amiability as
he sneakingly noticed the general distrust.

"Yer needn't glare like that," said he, savagely; "I sed it, an' I mean
it. Come along, youngster--it's about the time I generally fry my pork."

And the two beauties walked away together, while the crowd stared in
speechless astonishment.

"He won't make much out uv that boy, that's one comfort," said Black
Tom, who had partially recovered from his wonder. "You ken bet yer
eye-teeth that his pockets wouldn't pan out five dollars."

"Then what does he want uv him?" queried Slim Sam.

"Somethin' mean an' underhand, for certain," said the colonel, "and the
boy must be purtected. And I hereby app'int this whole crowd to keep an
eye on Grump, an' see he don't make a slave of the boy, an' don't rob
him of dust. An' I reckon I'll take one of yer with me, an' keep watch
of the old rascal to-night. I don't trust him wuth a durn."

That night the boys at the saloon wrinkled their brows like unto an
impecunious Committee of Ways and Means, as they vainly endeavored to
surmise why Grump could want that young man as a lodger. Men who pursued
wittling as an aid to reason made pecks of chips and shavings, and were
no nearer a solution than when they began.