Kelly, on the other hand, was a man of futures, the longer and riskier the better. He was waiting a necessary month or two for the mine to yield him and its owners an immense fortune,--“and no stock to sell.” Arizona was “the greatest country in the world,” and this pocket of the hills the finest spot in Arizona. The “b’ys” who were expected to be entranced at our advent were the finest in the United States. “All good b’ys,” he proclaimed while, eyes downcast, they shoveled huge knifefuls of beans to conceal their embarrassment, “good b’ys, and refined,--not what you usually get in mining camps. You won’t hear them speak a wor’rd before you not fit for ladies.” He was right, there, for they opened not their mouths, except to fill them, while the boldest mumbled a “pass the butter!” Yet, without vanity, I think the company of “ladies” did give them a kind of agonized pleasure. When we left they watched us out of sight. “An’ d’ye know what stopped the war?” continued Kelly, taking a jump we could not quite follow. “Ye thought Wilson did it, didn’t ye? He did not. It was copper. Copper did it. And Kelly. I saw how things was goin’--I wint to the Secret’ry of the Treasury, an’ I says to him, ‘McAdoo,’ I says, ‘Ye know as well as meself that this war has to stop. An’ why? Copper,’ I says,----” The inside story of the armistice we never did learn, for an interruption came in the shape or shapelessness of the Native Daughter bearing a four layer cake, which we hardly finished before the gathering dark warned us to leave. We could barely withstand the pressure to stay overnight, to stay a week, or a month, or better,--“Come and settle. There’s land enough; ye can pick y’r spot, and I’ll have the b’ys put up a bungalow f’r ye. They’ll be tickled to death to do it.” As a sop to propriety he added, “Me old woman’s coming out next week.” “It’s good to see women,” said the little engineer as he quietly shook hands. His vague eyes looked more haunted than ever. “It--it gets lonesome here.” “Give my love to California,” screamed the cook, taking our destination for granted. As we gave one last look at those hospitable miners, friendly as dogs who have been locked in an empty house, and a last look over the wonderful landscape rolling below us for miles, we too felt a pang at leaving. “We’ll stop in on our way back,” we promised. Toward dark, we began to encounter snow drifts. The first were easily passed, but as we climbed higher and the night thickened we found each drift a little harder to conquer, though the mild air was hardly tempered with frost.