In spite of his recent illness, he was in capital spirits, and seemed to be much liked by his companions. “Yes, I’ve been quite ill,” he said, in answer to Hilda’s inquiries; “but Lauderdale nursed me beautifully, and made me drink about a dozen bottles of Elliman’s embrocation, and then I got well enough to write several parting letters to my friends in England, and to make my will. And that’s a very puzzling thing to do satisfactorily when you have many valuable things to leave. I left my pipe first to Lauderdale, then to Graham, then to Bob, and then to Ben Overleigh, and finally I kept it for myself!” “You ought to have kept your rifle for yourself,” Hilda said graciously, “though I am glad you did not. I am delighted to have it from you, and hope to do it justice.” “A rifle is a very handy thing to have in this country,” he answered. “One may want it at any moment for a coyote, or a jack-rabbit, or a Mexican.” “Or perhaps a deer!” suggested Hilda, slyly. They all laughed at that, and Jesse Holles as heartily as any one, and then Ben said he thought they ought to be starting home. It was evident that none of them wanted to go, and Holles, being particularly fond of music, was looking at the piano; but Ben seemed anxious about the weather, and insisted on their leaving at once with him. They called him the High Binder, explaining to Hilda the exact meaning of a High Binder, and his mysterious and subtle influence over his Chinese compatriots, whom he ruled with an iron rod. “Just see how we all quail before him,” said Holles, who had been talking incessantly the whole evening; “and no doubt you’ve observed how speechless we are in his presence. He has only to wag his pig-tail and we go flat on our faces at once.” “Don’t be such a confounded ass,” said Ben, laughing. “Come along, boys.” “All right, man alive,” said Holles, “but at least let me finish this piece of cake first. We don’t get cake like this at your place, Ben. Do you know, Mrs. Strafford, when we want to kill coyotes, we get Ben to make us some of his best sponge-rusks. That does the trick at once!” “Why don’t you give them to the deer also?” suggested Hilda, mischievously. There was a shout of laughter at this, and Robert lit the lantern, and opened the door. “It’s raining, boys,” he said; “and what’s more, it is coming on harder.” “Hurrah for California!” sang out Graham; “we shall all make our fortunes.” “Yes,” said Robert Strafford, “we shall all be saved if the country gets a thorough good drenching. But you will be pretty well sprinkled by the time you reach home.” “Never mind,” replied Holles, cheerily. “I’m the only delicate one, you know, and the others won’t take much harm, being of coarser fibre. And I have nothing on to spoil except the High Binder’s tie, which I will put in my pocket. So good-night, Mrs. Strafford, and three cheers for yourself and Bob and dear old England.”