“Eat her while she's hot,” he counselled, and with knife and fork set the example. “She's a dandy,” was Jim's judgment, after his first mouthful. “But I tell you one thing straight. I'm never goin' to visit you on that Arizona ranch, so you needn't ask me.” “What's the matter now?” Matt asked. “Hell's the matter,” was the answer. “The Mexican cookin' on your ranch'd be too much for me. If I've got hell a-comin' in the next life, I'm not goin' to torment my insides in this one. Damned peppers!” He smiled, expelled his breath forcibly to cool his burning mouth, drank some coffee, and went on eating the steak. “What do you think about the next life anyway, Matt?” he asked a little later, while secretly he wondered why the other had not yet touched his coffee. “Ain't no next life,” Matt answered, pausing from the steak to take his first sip of coffee. “Nor heaven nor hell, nor nothin'. You get all that's comin' right here in this life.” “An' afterward?” Jim queried out of his morbid curiosity, for he knew that he looked upon a man that was soon to die. “An' afterward?” he repeated. “Did you ever see a man two weeks dead?” the other asked. Jim shook his head. “Well, I have. He was like this beefsteak you an' me is eatin'. It was once steer cavortin' over the landscape. But now it's just meat. That's all, just meat. An' that's what you an' me an' all people come to--meat.” Matt gulped down the whole cup of coffee, and refilled the cup. “Are you scared to die?” he asked. Jim shook his head. “What's the use? I don't die anyway. I pass on an' live again--” “To go stealin', an' lyin' an' snivellin' through another life, an' go on that way forever an' ever an' ever?” Matt sneered. “Maybe I'll improve,” Jim suggested hopefully. “Maybe stealin' won't be necessary in the life to come.” He ceased abruptly, and stared straight before him, a frightened expression on his face. “What's the matter!” Matt demanded. “Nothin'. I was just wonderin'”--Jim returned to himself with an effort--“about this dyin', that was all.” But he could not shake off the fright that had startled him. It was as if an unseen thing of gloom had passed him by, casting upon him the intangible shadow of its presence. He was aware of a feeling of foreboding. Something ominous was about to happen. Calamity hovered in the air. He gazed fixedly across the table at the other man. He could not understand. Was it that he had blundered and poisoned himself? No, Matt had the nicked cup, and he had certainly put the poison in the nicked cup. It was all his own imagination, was his next thought. It had played him tricks before. Fool! Of course it was. Of course something was about to happen, but it was about to happen to Matt. Had not Matt drunk the whole cup of coffee? Jim brightened up and finished his steak, sopping bread in the gravy when the meat was gone. “When I was a kid--” he began, but broke off abruptly.