He could not call her mercenary. He knew better. More than one very comfortable income was at her disposal. Poor fellow! He could only grind his teeth and curse Sweet Briar gulch from the deepest pot-hole in the bed-rock to the top of its loftiest pine. He drew out her photograph, and obtained much sweet consolation by thinking how happy they two would be in Sweet Briar gulch together, even if there wasn't a cent of pay in the gravel. Sick of this ingenious torture, he lit his pipe and drew savagely upon it. With a mocking gurgle, about a dram of "slumgullion" passed into his mouth. It was the last touch. He spat out the biting, nauseating stuff, hurled the pipe upon the rocks and danced on it. And yet the colors frolicked in the gulch; the pines toned the air with healthy breath. From afar came the th-r-r-up! th-r-r-up! th-r-r-up of a galloping horse. It was Bud, the mail-carrier, coming, modestly and quietly, at a decent gait, down a trail where most would prefer to walk, and to "hang on" to something at that. At first Jim felt irritated by the interruption. He wanted to luxuriate in misery: still he was a vigorous, healthy man, and the cheery good-fellowship of Bud soon made away with that feeling. "Well, how they coming, Jimmy?" queried the young giant. "Hit her yet?" "Hit--well, much caloric,"--replied Jim. "I've begun to believe there ain't a durned thing here." "You're looking kind of owly, old man--what's up? Don't you feel well?" "Oh, Bud I I'm sick of everything this day--I don't believe in the constitution of the United States, including the thirteenth amendment, nor the ten commandments, nor the attraction of gravitation, nor anything else--it's all a damned lie." "No wonder you get like that, mousing around here without a chance to yappi with a feller critter. 'Nough to make you locoed. "Jump it for a spell. Go up town. Get loaded. Get horribly loaded. Break somebody's window, and tell the folks you're a Sweet Briar zephyr come to blow out their lights. Go ahead and do it. When your hair stops pulling you'll feel like a new man." Jim thought the advice sound, yet a strange feeling had developed in him, in his isolation; it was that the eye of Anne was always on him. He had fallen into a habit, which becomes a superstition when a man is alone, of acting as though she were there in person. However, he didn't feel called upon to offer Bud that explanation of his refusal. He conveyed the idea in one brief word. "Busted," said he. "Busted?" retorted Bud warmly. "Busted? Not much, you ain't busted whilst that little package is there, bet cher life! You call for what you want, and the cashier will make good." "Ah, Bud! How'll I ever pay you back? Keep it, man, keep it," replied Jim in a disheartened voice.