Jim turned his horse and cantered back through Mexico City along the narrow river trail to Cactus Canyon. Just off the government reserve was a tent with a sheet iron roof. The trail to the tent was well worn. Jim dropped the reins over the pony's head and walked into the tent. There was a rough bar across one end, behind which stood a quiet-faced man with a black mustache. Drinking at the bar were two white men whom Jim recognized as foremen. "You two fellows are fired," drawled Jim. "Turn in your time and leave camp this afternoon." The Big Boss is king on a project. The two men meekly set down their glasses and filed out of the tent. It was something to have been fired by the big boss himself. "And who are you?" asked the saloonkeeper. "Don't you recognize me, Murphy?" asked Jim, pleasantly. "I have the advantage of you there. My name is Manning." The saloonkeeper made a long-armed reach for a gun that stood in the corner. "One moment, please," said Jim. As he spoke he jumped over the bar, bearing the saloonkeeper down with him before the long-armed reach encompassed the gun. Jim removed Murphy's knife, then picked up the gun himself. Murphy started for the door with a jump. "Break nothing!" he yelled. "I'll have the law of New Mexico on you for this." Murphy leaped directly into Bill Underwood's arms. "Hello, sweetie," said Bill, holding Murphy close. "Thought I'd come up and see how you was making it, Boss." "Nicely, thanks," said Jim. "I'll be finished as soon as he breaks up his stock." "It'll be some punishment for me to watch a job like that," said Bill, "but I'm with you, Boss." He shifted his gun conspicuously as he released Murphy. Bill owed the saloonkeeper something over six weeks' pay. The occasion had an unholy joy for him. Murphy looked Jim over, scratched his head and started to whistle nonchalantly. In ten minutes he had destroyed his stock in trade. When he had finished, he handed Jim the key of the tent with a profound bow. "Now," said Jim, "drop a match on the floor." When the flames were well caught Jim said, "See that he leaves camp, Bill." Then he mounted and rode away. Murphy looked after him curiously. "Some man, ain't he?" he said to Bill. "I'll eat out of his hand any time," replied Bill. "Get your pony, Murphy." "I'll join your posse," suggested Murphy. "I bet I can ferret out more booze than any three of you." "Nothing doing!" growled Bill. "Should think you would have better taste than to wanta do that." Murphy shrugged his shoulders. "I want you to let me go up to that Greek fellow's place before I go," he said. Bill stared but made no comment. As Jim rode back through the lower town he stopped young Hartman, the government photographer. "Hartman," he asked, "have the films for the movies come in yet?" "Came in yesterday, Mr. Manning." "Good work! Hartman, will you give us a show this evening?" "The hall's in pretty rough shape but if you want it----"