"Well, Pikey, are you wishing yourself back in Frisco?"

"I'm wishing myself in Tophet, sergeant; it may be hotter, but it
isn't as lonely as this infernal hole."

"No, it's populous enough, probably," was the response, "and," added
he, with a whimsical smile, "no doubt you've lots of friends there,
Pike."

"Maybe I have, and maybe I haven't. At all events, I've none here. Why
in thunder couldn't you let me look into that business over at
Ceralvo's instead of Jackson?--he gets everything worth having. I'm
shelved for his sake day after day."

"Couldn't send _you_, Pike, on any such quest as that. Those Greasers
have sharp eyes, and one look at your face would convince them that
we'd lost our grip or were in for a funeral. Jackson, now, rides in as
blithe as a May morning,--a May morning out of Arizona, I mean. They
never get the best of him. The only trouble is he stays too long; he
ought to be back here now."

"Humph! he'll be apt to come back in a hurry with Pat Donovan and
those 'C' troop fellows spending their money like water at Ceralvo's."

"You still insist they're over there, do you, Pike? I think they're
not. I flagged old Feeny half an hour ago that they hadn't come
through here."

"Who was that fellow who rode back here with the note?" asked Pike.