As if his spasm of loquacity had exhausted itself he relapsed into a silence that was maintained throughout the meal that followed, despite Heald’s palpable attempts to draw him out. Heald himself appeared to have given up, and the partners fidgeted restlessly, because he had made no reference to the land dispute, or old Harmless’ side of the controversy. They were surprised when, as they were leaving, Heald turned to the patriarch and said, “Wonder if you’d mind if I came up and bunked with you a night or two, Harmon? It looks to me as if there might be some trout in this stream of yours that runs down the center of your gulch.” “I’d welcome you, or any friend of David’s and Goliath’s,” the old man said with grave simplicity. “Come right along. There is trout there, but I ain’t never had time ter catch ’em. Come right along. But--but I’d sort of like ter have you promise you won’t catch no more’n what we kin eat, because--well--you see they’re just the same as you an’ me. They like ter live--and--this is a mighty fine place ter live in. It is! And I like ter think that even the fish down there in my stream is friends of mine in their way, and knows me.” The moon had pulled up across the divide when the visitors returned home; but the partners could not induce Heald to discuss Old Harmless, and almost his sole comment was, “Remarkable old man! Remarkable! I suppose he has to have every ounce of grub he uses teamed up there, doesn’t he?” “Packed up on an old burro he’s got. Not teamed,” Goliath answered. “Road up there’s all overgrown now.” “Um-m-mh!” said Heald thoughtfully. “And yet no one goes away hungry, and--when you fellows show me the way up there to-morrow, I think I’d like to take along a pack of grub, if you’ll sell it to me.” But they indignantly protested against a sale, although the pack of food went with Heald when they made the journey on the next forenoon. The partners waited three days, then four, before they again visited the homely old cabin over the ridge. They found Heald and Uncle Bill sitting out in the moonlight listening to the phonograph, and smoking industriously. Heald’s pants were tucked into his boots, and they noticed that he had discarded his suspenders for a leather string, and that the collar of his flannel shirt was open as if he had finally discarded neckties. He looked far less tidy and neat, but far more comfortable than when he had arrived. “Ain’t you comin’ back with us?” David whispered when Uncle Bill left them for a moment, and in the moonlight they saw Heald’s grin. “No,” he said. “Not to-night. The fact is, I’m getting to be just like Uncle Bill. I like it here!” “Has he talked yet?” Goliath asked, stretching his neck toward Heald. “Somewhat! Somewhat!” declared Heald with an even broader grin. “Anything we can do for you?” asked David.