One of my foremen dug a six-foot pit and set his tent
over it. Then he let 'em shoot at will. Those were the days!"
"Government ought to keep out of business," said Curly. "Let the
States manage their own affairs."
"What's Field sore about?" asked Enoch of Mack.
"He's just ignorant," answered Mack calmly. "Hand me some tobacco,
Curly, and quit your beefing. When you make your fortune washing gold
up in the Colorado, you can get yourself elected to Congress and do
Fowler up. In the meantime--"
"Aw, shut up, Mack," drawled Curly good-naturedly. "What are you
trying to do, ruin my reputation with Just Smith here? By the way,
Just, you haven't told us what your work is."
"I'm a lawyer," said Enoch solemnly.
The three men stared at each other in the fire glow. Suddenly Enoch
burst into a hearty laugh, in which the others joined.
"What was the queerest thing you've ever seen in the desert, Mack?"
asked Enoch, when they had sobered down.
Mack sat in silence for a time. "That's hard to judge," he said
finally. "Once, in the Death Valley country, I saw a blind priest
riding a burro fifty miles from anywhere. He had no pack, just a
canteen. He said he was doing a penance and if I tried to help him,
he'd curse me.
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