"Going round the mountain is no good on a give-out horse. They'll follow my tracks," said Jeff to Jeff. Men who are much alone so shape their thoughts by voicing them, just as you practice conversation rather to make your own thought clear to yourself than to enlighten your victim--beg pardon--your neighbor. Just a slip of the tongue. _Vecino_ is the Spanish for neighbor, you know. Not so much to enlighten your neighbor as to find out for yourself precisely what it is you think. "Hiding in the Basin is no good. Can't get out. Would I were a bird! Only one way. Got to go straight up--disappear--vanish in the air. 'Up a chimney, up----' Naw, that's backward! 'Up a chimney, down, or down a chimney, down; but not up a chimney, up, nor down a chimney, up!' So that's settled! Now let me see, says the little man. Mighty few Arcadians know me well enough not to be fooled--mebbe so. Lake? Lake won't come. He'll be busy. There's Jimmy; but Jimmy's got a shocking bad memory for faces sometimes, just now, my face. I think, maybe, I could manage Jimmy. The sheriff? That would be real awkward, I reckon. I'll just play the sheriff isn't in the bunch and build my little bluff according to that pleasing fancy; for if he comes along it is all off with little Jeff! "Now lemme see! If Gwin's working that little old mine of his--why, he'll lie himself black in the face just for the principle of it. Mighty interestin' talker, Gwin is. And if no one's there, I'll be there. Not Jeff Bransford; he got away. I'll be Long--Tobe Long--working for Gwin. Tobe Long. I apprenticed my son to a miner, and the first thing he took was a new name!" Far away on the side of Double Mountain he could even now see the white triangle of the tent at Gwin's mine--the Ophir--and the gray dump spilling down the hillside. There was no smoke to be seen. Jeff made up his mind there was no one at the mine--which was what he devoutly hoped--and further developed his gleeful hypothesis. "Let's see now, Tobe. Got to study this all out. They most always leave all their kegs full of water when they go away, so they won't have to pack 'em up the first thing when they come back. If they did, I'm all right. If they didn't, I'm in a hell of a fix! They'll leave 'em full, though. Of course they did--else the kegs would all dry up and fall down." He glanced over his shoulder. "Them fellows are ten or twelve miles back, I reckon. They'll slow up so soon as they see I'm headed off. I'll have time to fix things up--if only there's water in the kegs at the mine!" He patted Alibi's head: "Now, old man, do your damnedest! It's pretty tough on you, but your part will soon be over."