primitive passions--the fret for fighting."

"Mebbe you'll have a chance."

"How so?"

"Well, it's this way. I met Mexico Mullins this mornin'. You mind
old Mexico, don't you? The feller that relocated Discovery Claim
on Anvil Creek last summer?"

"You don't mean that 'tin-horn' the boys were going to lynch for
claim-jumping?"

"Identical! Remember me tellin' you about a good turn I done him
once down Guadalupe way?"

"Greaser shooting-scrape, wasn't it?"

"Yep! Well, I noticed first off that he's gettin fat; high-livin'
fat, too, all in one spot, like he was playin' both ends ag'in the
centre. Also he wore di'mon's fit to handle with ice-tongs.

"Says I, lookin' at his side elevation, 'What's accented your
middle syllable so strong, Mexico?'

"'Prosperity, politics, an' the Waldorf-Astorier,' says he. It
seems Mex hadn't forgot old days. He claws me into a corner an'
says, 'Bill, I'm goin' to pay you back for that Moralez deal.'

"'It ain't comin' to me,' says I. 'That's a bygone!'