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 "Mix me another, Tom," said the Major, "and I'll walk over and indicate to him in a few well-chosen words what I think he should do. Bailey, for a bloomin', blawsted Englishman, is a good sort, quiet, steady, and goes up into the collar well. How he ever came to jine teams with Crowle licks me! How he parted with him is easy to understand. I think Bailey needs a word in season."

He drank his poison and walked across the sunlit street, which was four inches in dust. Though it was ten o'clock there were few people about, for most of Painted Rock's population had been gambling as usual till two o'clock.

"I don't see no reason why Painted Rock reckons to be a great City," thought the Major; "it's a sand-pit and a hell of a hole, that's what it is. At night we're drunk, and in the mornin' we're sorry, and the trade ain't what it's said to be. I shall move along somewhere, some day. And I guess I'll say so to Bailey, and add briefly and neatly that he had better quit as well."

He walked into Bailey's room, which was