The Long Chance | Page 2

He was
clean-shaven and sinfully neat. He wore no side-arms and appeared as
much out of harmony with his surroundings as might a South American
patriot at a Peace Conference.
"I say," he began presently, "how much further is it to this prospect
hole of yours, if, indeed, you have a prospect as you represented to me
a week ago?" His tone was fretful, peevish, complaining. One would
readily have diagnosed the seat of his trouble. He had come prepared to
ride--and he had been forced to walk.
The young man frowned. He seemed on the point of swearing, but
appearing to think better of it, he replied banteringly, "_Por ahi. Por
ahi._"
"What in blazes does that mean?"
"Oh, I was just talking the language of the country--a language, by the
way, toward which you seem most indifferently inclined. '_Por ahi_'
means 'a considerable way,' 'a right smart piece, I reckon,' and conveys
about the same relative amount of definite information as _manana._
Never having measured the distance to my prospect, I have tried for the
past two days to give you an approximate idea. But in this country you
must know that distance is a deceptive, 'find X' sort of proposition--so
please refrain from asking me that same question every two miles. If
the water holds out we'll get there; and when we get there we'll find
more water, and then you may shave three times a day if you feel so
inclined, I'm sorry you have a blister on your off heel, and I sympathize
with you because of your prickly-heat. But it's all in the day's work and
you'll survive. In the meantime, however, I suggest that you compose
your restless New England soul in patience, old man, and enjoy with
our uncommunicative Cahuilla friend and myself the glories of a
sunrise on the Colorado desert."

"Damn the sunrise," the other retorted. He would have damned his
tormentor had he dared. "I do not wish to be insulted."
"Listen to that coyote," replied the careless one, ignoring his
companion's rising anger. "Listen to him yip-yapping over there on the
ridge. There sits a shining example of bucolic joy and indifference to
local annoyances. Consider the humble coyote, Boston, and learn
wisdom. Of course, a coyote doesn't know a whole lot, but he does
recognize a good thing when he sees it. His appreciation of a sunrise is
always exuberant. Ever since that coyote's been big enough to rustle his
own jack-rabbits he's howled at a lovely full moon, and if he's ever
missed his sun-up cheer it's because something he ate the night before
didn't agree with him."
"Sir," snapped the irascible one, "you're a trifler. You're--you're --a--"
"Say it," soothed the student of nature.
"Oh, damn it," rasped his victim, "talk business. This is a business trip,
not a rehearsal for a comic opera. Talk sense."
"Well, all right--since you insist," drawled the other, smiling brightly.
"In the first place, after this morning you will permit your whiskers to
grow. Out here water is too precious to waste it shaving every morning.
I suggested that point last night, but you ignored my polite hint. I hate
to appear boorish, but I must remind you that these jacks are mine, that
the four little kegs of water that they're carrying are mine, that this
_mozo_--I beg your pardon--that this Indian is mine, and lastly--forgive
me if I ascend once more into the realm of romance and
improbability--this country is mine, and I love it, and I won't have it
profaned by any growling, dyspeptic little squirt from a land where
they have pie for breakfast. I positively forbid you to touch that water
without my permission. I forbid you to cuss my mozo without my
permission, and I forbid you to damn this country in my hearing. Just at
this particular moment, Boston, the only things which you have and
which you can call your own, and do what you please with, are your
soul, your prickly-heat and your blistered heel. I'm fully convinced that
you're quite a little man back in Boston for the reason that you're one

hell of a small man out here, even if you do wear a string of letters after
your name like the tail on a comet.
"You were swelling around in San Berdoo, talking big and hollering for
an investment. I showed you samples of ore from my desert prospect
and you got excited. You wanted to examine my claim, you said, and if
you liked it you would engage to bring it to the attention of 'your
associates' and pay me my price. I offered to bring you in here as my
guest, and ever since you got off the train at Salton you've snarled and
snapped and beefed