times. All men were my brothers. Save one-yes, save one. I would go back and wreck the establishment. I would disrupt that leather-bound volume, violate that black skull-cap, burn the accounts. But before fancy could father the act, I recollected myself and all which had passed.

Nor did I marvel at my new-born might, at my ancient dignity which had returned. There was a tinkling chink as I ran the yellow pieces through my fingers, and with the golden music rippling round me I caught a deeper insight into the mystery of things.

T

HERE were seven of us waiting for the East-bound freight, one night, at Summit, near the west end of the snowsheds; listening to the drip, drip, drip, of the rain from the freight-house eaves as we hugged the dry side of a baggage-truck, when the heavy-weight blanket-man told this story. The town marshal had steered him down to the tracks where the rest of us had been carefully sequestered, and that, being a common grievance, started his discourse of discontent. His companion, who was smaller, wore eyeglasses, and might have been picking fruit down Santa Clara way from appearances, added a minor quaver of protest at times, for to his eyes the world was muddy and life a large mistake.

"Now, what you think we been doin'," said the large man, gouging out his pipe with a fat fourth finger,-"me and this man Stivetts? Pickin' hens!" he added with withering self-contempt. "Pickin' hens for that Portyghee, him what we knew when he was hittin' the road same as we! Pickin' hens down near Santa Cruz to keep out o' soak. Gettin' so a 'bo may as well keep out o' that valley. Get a job or get pinched,-that's what it is. But what you think o' us pickin' hens,-me and this here Stivetts?"

"Yes," said Stivetts, wiping a watery eye; "and all we got for them hens was two cents apiece-dry-pick and crate 'em yourself!"

"Yes; and work from five in the mornin' to six at night, and then eat in the ranch-house with the Chinese."

And Pedro bossin' the job, and send

in' his chickens to the city by the carload! Why, I see that Portyghee when he could n't flag a free lunch from here to San Diego-pushin' a fruit-cart round 'Frisco and sleepin' in a dry-goods box o' nights!"

"And now to think o' you and me dressin' hens for him,-two cents apiece and dry-pick!" wailed the unappeased Stivetts.

"Why, if it had n't been for him we'd be ridin' round in a Pullman on the Espee, sayin' to some nigger, 'Here, boy, here's two dollars; go get them boots shined and keep the change.'

Yes; and if it had n't been for us, that Portyghee 'd be bummin' yet, or pickin' fruit somewheres. Who gave him a start anyhow? Where'd he get his chicken-ranch I'd like to know? Shows what he knowed about railroadin'! That Portyghee-"

"Hush now, Stivetts, you!" muttered the big man, growing craftily cautious and glancing sharply at the rest of us. But I suppose it's all right. It's three years ago, and none o' this bunch 'd peach anyhow."

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"You see, we were hangin' round in the valley-me and this here man Stivettsthat was afore we took to the road regular -workin' with Hank Billings on an irrigation ditch in the mountains, and the Portyghee was shovelin' dirt under Uncle Collis's cross-ties on the narrer-gauge for a dollar and ten cents a day. Say, that Portyghee, he did n't know nothin'did n't know a semaphore from a shootin' star, did he, Stivetts?"

"And now to think o' you and me

dressin' hens fur him-two cents apiece and dry-pick!" quavered Stivetts, with a fist in his eye.

Well, how 'd we know? As I was sayin', me and Stivetts here quit the ditch and went broke, and then we struck Milroy's camp where they was makin' a fortyfoot cut, and tried to get a job on the dump. But there was nothin' but these here basket-hatted Chinee on the grade and we quit. Then along came Hank Billings, who once had got bounced from the road, and was fightin' mad at the Espee from Uncle Collis down to the station-agent at La Ciudad, who gave him the go.

"So one day when we was all on the bum and nothin' showin', Hank up and says to us,-me and Stivetts here,- You knows the country east o' here pretty well all the way to the Sierras, don't you now?' Well, we did, and then after beatin' round a while, and chawin' hard, Hank says again, ‘I knows a gent friend up in 'Frisco who has the tip that there's sixty thousand in gold comin' down next Tuesday night on the 1:45. That's a pile, ain't it now?' says he. 'Set boys like us up for fair, would n't it now? says he. Booze and grub to the limit,' says he,'why not? And then he went to scratchin' his chin reflective-like and looks at us-me and Stivetts. But though we tumbled, nary a word says we.

They ain't lookin' for anything of the kind about here,' went on Hank. 'Them railroad officials are gettin' most criminal careless. Say, if there was a few boys round here, playin' in hard luck, and they kinder wanted to lift that bunch o' money it 'ud be like findin' it! Just hold the 1:45 in the cañon as she comes out o' the tunnel, and fix the engineer and messenger while they blow the safe. She's a long train and the folks in the coaches back in the tunnel 'd never know what was up. Cut the wires and cripple the engine and we-er a man could be six hours up in the mountains afore the alarm could get out anywhere. Say, s'pose there was a couple o' handy boys like you, for instance, that knew the country like a top, and s'pose there was a sociable sort o' chap, like my gent friend, for instance, what could get some horses and a gun or two;

why I calculate those boys 'd make a big winnin'.' And then Hank sized us up kind o' pityin' like and added, 'And yet there are fellows that 'ud sit right here and let a fortune slip through their fingers -shiftless and no-account sort o' chaps -same kind that don't take an interest in politics and are the despair o' the country! No wonder,' says Hank, 'that anarchists and monopolies get such a holt here when there are men that won't hustle for themselves!'

"Well, we sat there not sayin' a word, but I thought and Stivetts thought, and we lay low till next day waitin' for a proposition; and sure enough, it come, with Hank Billings at the business end o' it. We agreed to go in the deal, and then Hank brought round his gent friend and we all sized up the lay o' the land and fixed the preliminaries. How to stop that there train was a puzzler, and how to get the tools to derail it if it was n't stopped was another, until Hank had an idee. He knowed all the railroad men on the division most, and then he discovered that Portyghee workin' on the section up above La Ciudad, and fixed it with him to come in. We all kicked on the Portyghee, but Hank showed how we had to have some one who could get the tools and lantern without attracting attention, so Pedro was admitted to the gang. Dam the Portyghee! But for him we'd be drinkin' cocktails in New York and puttin' our names on charity-ball subscriptions and grand operys, et cetera,-would n't we, Stivetts?"

"Yes; and now to think o' you and me dressin' hens for him-two cents apiece and dry-pick-"

"Well, how 'd we know? So the deal was fixed up. We laid out our route beautiful and timed the place where we'd divide the swag up in the hills, and had our horses and guns safe up La Ciudad Cañon the night afore the hold-up, without any one so much as knowin' we was in the neighborhood-all except the Portyghee.

"He was maulin' spikes and drivin' wedges innocent like, that very afternoon along the roadbed in the cañon, and me and Stivetts here, and Hank Billings and his gent friend lay in the chaparral above

the track and watched the boss cuss him for tampin' the ties too hard on one side! We laughed and laughed-me and Stivetts here, and Hank and his gent friend-for we'd swore to dump the Portyghee after the coin was copped-him bein' such a dum fool, and a furriner besides !

"Pertection to American labor and home industries!' said Hank; 'what's the Portyghee mixin' in our hold-up for anyhow?

Well, Pedro was to meet us at eleven o'clock at the section tool-house in the cañon and get the things, and sure enough he showed up, and we found the picks and the lantern and carried 'em back to the tunnel and sent the Portyghee forward to flag the train just where Hank calculated it would bring the express-car to our blind.

"Lord, Lord! what a night that was! was n't it, Stivetts? We lay there in the bresh with the moon risin' silvery-like over the cañon and the big Sierras loomin' up black and shadowy way off yonder, and the tunnel showin' deep and dark below us, and the Portyghee sat there on the rail and et our grub. Hank's gent friend had brought along enough stuff in a gunny-sack to last us for two days, but that Portyghee set there and et and et until half-past twelve, and there was n't any more.

"Pedro had been told to find out at the station if the train was on time, and we calculated to slide down in the cañon at half-past one and lay for the outfit. But we got froze up on them rocks long before that and came down in the gulch and found the Portyghee asleep on the track. And there we set and shivered and felt sore-eyed and hungry, all except Pedro, and along towards two o'clock that train was n't even in the valley, or we could have heard it.

"The owls hooted away up on the ridge and the coyotes yapped down below, and the big mountains loomed up bigger and darker, and the moon commenced to set, and this here man Stivetts was scaredwas n't you, Stivetts?"

"Well, I saw that Portyghee layin' there snorin', with the moon on his face, and it made me nervous!"

"All this time Hank and his gent friend

had been gettin' more flustered because the train did n't come, and they went behind the tool-house to talk it over and have a drink, and by-and-by the arguments got longer and the drinks shorter until I swan! we was gettin' to be the worst demoralized bunch o' hold-up men that ever busted a safe! Here was Hank and his gent friend rakin' up old scores and draggin' in the Presidential election, and Stivetts shiverin' with cold and scare, and then the Portyghee woke up peaceful-like and went to fishin' for the rest o' the grub in the gunny-sack.

"And then there came an awful toot o' that train and a roar as it slid onto the trestle across the valley, and we was the most rattled lot o' yearlings that ever stampeded! Stivetts here just turned pale-clean locoed, was n't you, Stivetts ?" Well, I saw that Portyghee settin' there chawin' on a heel o' dried beef, and it made me squeamish-like-"

66

Then Hank tumbled for the horses and brought 'em out o' the timber, and I gets Pedro started on a run down the tunnel with the lantern. You see, we depended on that Portyghee to find out at the station if that train with the money was regular and the tip was straight, and he says she was all right, so we was n't suspectin' nothin'. We lay behind the toolhouse, all except Hank's gent friend, who went down the tracks to cover the coaches.

The train came roarin' on-rumble, rumble-ruuurr, ruuurr-grand-like, through the cañon, with the big smokeshadows spinnin' back across the tunnel, and we lay there behind the tool-house, and this man Stivetts here kept pokin' me in the neck with the top o' a cold shotgun-did n't you, Stivetts?"

"Well, I got to thinkin' o' that Portyghee-"

"And then the train come bustin' magnificent through the tunnel, bellerin' through that gulch, with the smoke driftin' snaky-like across the moon, and I thought she must have run over the Portyghee and was n't goin' to stop. But she gave a screech, and the bell clanged, and the sand ground hard in her drivers, and up she comes, creepin' through the moonlight, with the engineer lookin' back at Pedro dancin' and wavin' his lantern.

"Hands up!' yelled Hank, and me. and Stivetts here clapped our guns on 'em. Hands up, and come down here.'

"All right, boys!' sings out the fireman. 'Don't shoot; we 're comin'!' and they crawls out and Hank waltzes 'em off in the bresh and stands 'em in a row, with this here Stivetts coverin' 'em with his sawed-off shot-gun.

"Not a word!' growls Hank. 'We want that sixty thousand in the second car there. Savvy, pard?'

"But, boys,' says the fireman, eyein' Stivetts suspicious-like, 'you-’ "Silence!' roars Hank.

“Dry up!' says Hank. 'Blow the top o' his head off if he peeps again, Stivetts.' And Stivetts stood there chatterin' hard, with that shot-gun pointed square at me with both hammers cocked-did n't you, Stivetts."

"Well, I knowed that Portyghee-"

Then me and Hank goes up to the express car and invites that messenger to open up. Nary a sound, except a curious. little chatter, like it was full o' detectives consultin'.

"Open that door,' roared Hank, 'or we blows you up!' No sound except that funny little purrin' whisper and the Portyghee comin' up the gravel.

"Once-twice-three times!' called Hank. Pry open that door, Pedro, and put in the dynamite.'

"Well, the Portyghee hit the door a clip and broke in a sliver, and I puts in a shell and gives the rest to Pedro to hold. Then we calls once more to that fool messenger to come out, and I touches a match, and we all run except the Portyghee. He stood there with his mask hangin' over one ear watchin' the spark silly-like.

"Git!' howled Hank, backin' away with his gun raised, 'you copper-coloredpatch-ripped-off-the-roof-o'-hell, you want to be blowed up?'

"Then up jumps that Portyghee as if the idee just struck him, and he dumps that bundle o' shells on the car-step and pulls for the timber. I tried to get the stuff away, but the fuse was splutterin', and we all broke for the bresh with the railroad boys in front, and Hank kicked that Portyghee at every jump.

"You ornery clay-brick mule!' says he, 'what'd you drop that powder for? Want to blow our fortunes all over the county? What we ought to do is make you go back and sit on that shell!'

"Well, we looks back at the ugly little spark spittin' in the shimmery moonlight, and the big black engine so still and noble, and the coaches in the tunnel, and the brakeman bobbin' round with a lantern and wonderin' what in all creation the train had stopped for. Say, I was that riled I could n't do nothin' but choke, and Hank he cussed and hammered the Portyghee, and this man Stivetts he wobbled round with that plaguey shot-gun and had it pointed sometimes at me and sometimes at Hank and sometimes at the moon! Honest truth, you was scared plum to death-was n't you, Stivetts?"

"Well, I sort o' thought that Portyghee-"

"Then we stands there just a minute, and then comes a little explosion, and then the most awful crack you ever heard! Say, it just natchelly blowed the whole top and front end off that express-car, and a big white mountain o' smoke came roarin' up that cañon, and slivers and stuff was rainin' all round us. Then came the most curious lot o' calls and screams and clutter that ever was-way up in the air and down the track-and the whole gulch was full o' smoke and feathers and boxes and slats and truck-worst you ever see!

"Whop! comes somethin' warm and fat and feathery, right down beside us and another hit the bresh close by.

"What's that!' yells Hank, jumpin' round pale-like and raisin' his gun.

"Them's hens!' says the engineer, grinnin' straight down Stivett's shot-gun, which for once was pointed at him, Stivetts bein' so dum locoed. ""Hens?"

Yes, just hens! There ain't no sixty thousand on this train; that come down on Twenty-four this afternoon. You blowed up a car o' Christmas chickens!'

"And I'll natchelly be beat if he was n't right!

"We stands there and stares down in that gulch. The moonlight comes down. so soft and silvery with the feathers float

in' and glistenin' way above us and the smoke flickerin' out among the trees, calmn and peaceful-like as ever you see, except for the chickens that squawked and cackled up in the bresh and rocks. Say, there was hens all over that sectionchicken croquettes hangin' on the madrone trees; chicken fricassee plastered all over the redwoods; chicken sauty scattered round on the chaparral,-worst you ever see! And all them hens that was able to run just scooted in every direction. Some of 'em headed for Santa Cruz, some legged

it

up Pescadero way, some hit the road for Los Gatos, and some just took to the bresh and climbed the cañon sides and squawked and cluttered, and when mornin' come some o' them dum roosters was crowin' way up the mountains and callin' to each other across the gulches for five miles 'round.

"Well, we just took one look at that there layout and broke for the timber. Hank and his gent friend got the horses and skipped East. But me and this man Stivetts here concluded it was safest to get back to town and keep mum long as we had nothin' to show we was mixed in that hold-up. We lost the Portyghee in the bresh, though he kept hollerin' for us to wait, and then we hiked off over the mountain and walked and scrambled until we was most dead, and when daylight come we could still hear them fool roosters crowin' faint and fainter, way off in the cañons for two hours almost. We got down the other side o' the ridge and took a nap in the bresh, and when we woke up the sun was shinin' so warm and the air was so sweet and meller-like and the birds was singin' so cheery, it seemed as if there never had been no hold-up, only this man Stivetts here had his hair blowed full o' feathers where a chicken hit him.

"Well, about noon we was comin' down the dirt road by the irrigation ditch, when off on a hill I sees a man wobblin' round as

"I dunno,' says Stivetts, pickin' pinfeathers out o' his ear. 'Why, yes, it's that Portyghee!

"Blessed if it ain't!' says I. 'But what's he doin'?'

"And then we sees some little brown things trailin' down the road ahead o' him and bobbin' between his legs, and he whackin' at 'em with a stick and steerin' 'em out o' the bresh.

66

"Well, crucify me, if it ain't hens!' says Stivetts, and then we lays low and watches him drive 'em past-that leatherfaced, wooden-headed Pedro carryin' a broken-legged rooster under one arm and cluckin' to a bunch o' wore-out hens with their tails shot off and their feathers gone and their tongues hangin' out from deadtiredness-hoppin' down the road with that Portyghee talkin' soft and mothery to 'em in his fool language-rummy-like as ever you see!

"Oh, he'll be pinched!' says Stivetts, that Portyghee

"But what's he doin' with them hens?' says I.

"And, do you know, that worried me for two whole years until we goes down the narrer-gauge and was fired off a train near there, pretty seedy and hard up. Now, what do you think? We finds that Pedro with as snug a little chicken-ranch up the Pescadero road as ever you see, with a shanty and a woman and a coppercolored kid! He's shippin' his chickens to the city now by the car-lot."

"But now to think o' you and me dressin' hens for him-two cents apiece, dry-pick!" concluded Stivetts, as We watched the East-bound freight draw onto the siding, and the marshal made his final round-up to see that none of us were left behind.