Cuff was not, and never had been, a Mollie, but was greatly in favor of the organization, and on intimate terms of friendship with its principal members. He bore the reputation of being a very rough customer, and undoubtedly was, but he may be complimented by the addenda: even he “was not as bad as he looked.” His temper was as peculiar as his _personnel_. Once disputed in a favorite theory or belief, his anger was quick to rise, knew no bounds, and the handiest weapon, no matter what it chanced to be—a rock, an axe, or hammer, a bar of iron, a stick of wood—was employed upon the person of his opponent, whether it chanced to be man, woman, or child, and it was a cause of wonder in the neighborhood that Micky had never yet been guilty of murder. In truth, he had not even been arrested for an assault, though frequently guilty of those of an aggravated character. His inner consciousness was as utterly inexplicable as his outward general appearance. Nondescript is about the only word in the English language clearly conveying to the mind of the reader a photograph of the being bearing the name of Micky Cuff, of Shenandoah. And the same syllables equally well apply to his mental and moral attributes—for he possessed both of these in a marked and powerful degree. Cuff would never refuse a man a quart of whisky, even though he whacked the applicant roundly before he could get off the premises with it. During times of suspension, when few miners commanded ready funds, Cuff is said to have disposed of, without money and without price, barrel after barrel of liquor, showing that penuriousness was not one of his many faults. Those who failed in coming up and settling, among the few to whom he extended credit, when better times arrived and the cash was attainable, the good old man took occasion to remind just once of their indebtedness. A continued omission to walk up, soon afterward, and pay the score, resulted in the closing of the account—wiping away the chalk-marks from the wall with his huge paw—and the balancing of his ledger by giving the negligent creditor a broken head the very first time they came together. “When I give, I gives,” said Cuff, “an’ when I trusts, I mane to have me pay, if I have to take it out of somebody’s hide!” So Cuff’s customers were ordinarily model paymasters. He sold by the gallon, quart, and drink, mostly for money down. It was most agreeable this way, all around. Miners, or their companions, who took sick at or near Micky Cuff’s house, were considered fortunate. If Cuff could have his way, he was the softest-handed, gentlest-hearted nurse in the world. When he might not do as he pleased, the invalid was quickly compelled to seek other quarters. His usual parting salute in such an event would be: