of sun peering suddenly over the Comobabi Range.

"Well--and so forth!" he said. "Here is a burn from the branding! And
what are we going to do now?"

"Wash the dishes. You do it."

"You are a light-minded and frivolous old man," said Stan. "What are we
going to do about our mine?"

"I've done told you. We--per you--are due to wash up the dishes. Do the
next thing next. That's a pretty good rule. Meantime I will superintend
and smoke and reflect."

"Do your reflecting out loud, can't you?" said Stan. His smooth forehead
wrinkled and a sudden cleft appeared between his eyebrows, witness of an
unaccustomed intentness of thought. "Say, Pete; this partnership of ours
isn't on the level. You put in half the work and all the brains."

"'Sall right," said Pete Johnson. "You furnish the luck and
personal pulchritude. That ain't all, either. I'm pickin' up some
considerable education from you, learning how to pronounce words
like that--pulchritude. I mispronounced dreadful, I reckon."

"I can tell you how to not mispronounce half as many words as you do
now," said Stan.

"How's that?" said Pete, greatly interested.

"Only talk half so much."