"If a man can't roast his friends, who can?" said he once, when I remonstrated with him concerning a criticism of Ferrier. "My friends knock me, I reckon. If they don't, then they can't think such a heap of me. No, sir. Bob's behaved like a no-account. Why, man alive, I had to let him have forty dollars more yesterday. What do you think of that--hey?" Every one of his acquaintance had remarked the transformation in Johnson and all of us were at a loss. The change was revolutionary. It had never been my fortune to meet with an individual so reckless of the morrow as Lafe had been before marriage. Not only had he gambled daily with his life, but had held to it that money was to spend, and the prospect of poverty never appeared to enter into his calculations. Indeed, he had scorned those who showed reluctance to toss their hard-won earnings to the winds. Himself had always been penniless or in debt, but he had gone his way cheerily, indulging no worry over his plight. Then he married, and now he talked like this: "I swan, Dan, when I think of what I married Hetty on, it sure makes me shake like a leaf. It's a wonder we didn't starve. A man's pluckier or he don't think of these things when he's younger--don't you reckon? I'd never dare do it over again now." "Pluckier? No. Simply irresponsible--that's all. A lot of 'em hope for a miracle--these young people," said I. "And damn my eyes if they don't usually get it," Lafe said. "It's most amazing how things will turn up to help people who can't help themselves--just when you think you're done for, too." "Then why are you worrying so now?" "Am I worrying?" he asked, looking sharply at me. I could see he was displeased, and consequently dropped the subject. But Horne and others told me that Johnson was much concerned about his health merely because he had contracted a cold. This was to them a symptom of hopeless effeminacy. On a night when Lafe and I were riding under myriads of stars, and a drink of mezcal had contributed to warm the confidential impulses begotten by a long day together in the saddle, the boss inquired abruptly whether I would look after Lafe, Jr., in the event of anything happening to him. I gaped at him. "What on earth's going to happen to you? You're as healthy as a goat." "Dan, it makes me ashamed, but, consarn it, I lie awake nights often, wondering what would become of Hetty and the kid if I was to be killed or got hurt or fell sick. We ain't got enough saved to--" "Oh, pshaw!" I protested. "Forget it. This isn't like you, Lafe." Really anxious, I took the opportunity to mention to Hetty that her husband was suffering from indigestion and that it behooved her to get him fit again. "Do you know," said she, "I've been wondering if that wasn't what ailed him. A man is only half a man when his stomach is out of order. He's got to get his meals all proper or he won't amount to anything. Thank you, Dan, I'll attend to it."