"Ye ain't ridden from Paradise to tell me that. An' rain's not a-
comin', either. 'Twould be a miracle if it did. How's folks? I heard
as things couldn't be worse."

"They are bad," said I. "Eubank's sister-in-law and two children are
dead. Judge Spragg has lost four. In all about sixteen children have
gone and five adults. That's Paradise alone; in the foothills----"

"What brings you here?"

It seemed hopeless to soften this hardened old man. I had thought of a
dozen phrases wherewith to soap the ways, so to speak, down which
might be launched my petition. I forgot them all, confronted by those
malicious, sneering eyes, by the derisive, snarling grin.

"Little Sissy Leadham is dying."

"What d'you say?"

"Little Sissy Leadham is dying."

For my life I could not determine whether the news moved him or not.

"Wal?"

"And she's asking for you."

"Askin'--fer me?"

At last I had gripped his attention and interest.