“Huh!” he said, and scooped up a basin of water from the barrel. Mr. Bunny, not easily discouraged, waited. “What's your name, pardner?” he presently asked. “Severance,” said Johnny shortly. “Say, I knowed a fellow of that name in the Klondike,—I'm a liar if I didn't. He was a card-player. We was awful intimate—” “Huh!” said Johnny again. He was not impressed with Mr. Bunny nor Mr. Bunny's friend. Mollie appeared at the window, but catching sight of Mr. Bunny she vanished into the inner regions of the Mountain House. “Mama! mama!—what was that?” cried Mr. Bunny softly, in admiration. “Look here!” said Johnny, wheeling on him. “You cut that out!” “It's the climate, pardner. These here high altitudes braces a man up most amazin'——” “The climate's all right, but you can get just as rank here as anywhere else,” warned Johnny. Mr. Bunny gave him a sidelong glance. Johnny completed his toilet in silence. “Going in to supper now, Mr. Severance?” asked Mr. Bunny affably. Johnny nodded, led the way around the building, in through the office, and on into the diningroom where sat Miss Mollie, inoffensive Mr. Brown and Mollie at supper. He presented Mr. Bunny with no little formality. Mr. Bunny's company manners immediately developed one striking merit. They seemed to afford their fortunate possessor the greatest possible satisfaction and confidence. Also when you tapped Mr. Bunny you tapped an unfailing spring. Moreover he had a generous and withal a thoughtful nature, had Mr. Bunny, especially was it thoughtful. “Miss Ferguson will try them pickles, Mr. Severance. Just chase the butter down this way, Mr. Brown,—Miss Mollie's aimin' her eye at it. Mr. Severance, 'low me to shoot a slice of bread on to your plate...” This and much more of a similar character in the interval of agreeable and easy conversation, the burden of which Mr. Bunny lightly sustained. And while he talked, his small wicked eyes, close-set under their low brows and of an indeterminable color, slid around in a furtive circle. They took in everything, but they came back and back to Mollie. “Say, Denver, Albuquerque, Dawson, 'Frisco,—I've seen 'em all; and say, I've seen a lot of life, too,—and me only twenty-five. How many fellows do you reckon have been about as much as me? But I'm giving it to you straight when I say it's good to hit a place like this where you feel at home, and where you can wash out of a tin basin at the back door like you done at mother's!”