Windy has mentioned Gentleman Tim, and that reminded me of the
first time I ever saw him. He was an Irishman all right, but he
had been educated in England, and except for his accent he was
more an Englishman than anything else. A freight outfit brought
him into Tucson from Santa Fe and dumped him down on the plaza,
where at once every idler in town gathered to quiz him.

Certainly he was one of the greenest specimens I ever saw in this
country. He had on a pair of balloon pants and a Norfolk jacket,
and was surrounded by a half-dozen baby trunks. His face was
red-cheeked and aggressively clean, and his eye limpid as a
child's. Most of those present thought that indicated
childishness; but I could see that it was only utter
self-unconsciousness.

It seemed that he was out for big game, and intended to go after
silver-tips somewhere in these very mountains. Of course he was
offered plenty of advice, and would probably have made
engagements much to be regretted had I not taken a strong fancy
to him.

"My friend," said I, drawing him aside, "I don't want to be
inquisitive, but what might you do when you're home?"

"I'm a younger son," said he. I was green myself in those days,
and knew nothing of primogeniture.

"That is a very interesting piece of family history," said I,