Oil may calm troubled waters, but it feeds flames.  We said something, nothing worth repeating; then Jim stood up, trembling with agitation, waving his briar pipe (which had gone out), cursing himself and the brazen skies, and the sterile soil, and the jack-rabbits, and barb-wire, and his spring, now a pool of stagnant mud.  When he had finished—­and how his tongue must have ached!—­Ajax said quietly—­

“Were you any good as a clerk?”

Jim nodded sullenly.

“I knew my business, of course.  Heavens! what a soft job that was compared to what I’ve tackled out here!”

“It might be possible to find another such job in California.  You never thought of that?”

Jim’s face brightened.

“Never,” he declared.  “Fresh air and exercise was the prescription—­ and I’m fed up on both.  If I could get a billet as clerk in San Lorenzo, if——­” He clenched his fists, unable to articulate another word, then, very slowly, he went on:  “Boys, I’d give my life to get Angela away from Paradise.”

“We’ll help you,” said Ajax.

“Mrs. Misterton would be much happier in San Lorenzo,” I added.

Jim flushed scarlet.

“Angela married the wrong man,” he said deliberately.

Ajax interrupted.

“Jim, fill your pipe!”

He held out his pouch, which Jim waved aside.

“She married the wrong man,” he repeated, “and that is what is keeping me awake nights.  She’d have been happy with Thorpe.  He could have given her all the little things women value.”

“And how about the great things?”

“The little things are great things—­to her.  Good-night, boys.”  We shook hands and he went to the door.  On the threshold he turned a tired face towards us.  “I hope I haven’t given you fellows the idea that Angela isn’t the best little woman on earth.  She never complains.  And Thorpe has been a pal in ten thousand.  His heart simply bleeds for Angela.  So long!”

Ajax mixed a stiff tumbler.  Before he put it to his lips he looked at me.  “If that bounder’s heart would bleed and bleed and bleed to death, I should not cross the road to fetch a doctor.”

* * * * *

About a fortnight later the annual County Fair was held outside San Lorenzo.  We drove to the Buena Vista Hotel, and, to our surprise, upon the broad verandah we discovered Angela, in the last of her pretty dresses, and Thorpe.  Angela explained matters.  Jim and she were Thorpe’s guests for the week.  They were going to the races, to the ball, to all the shows.  She finished breathlessly—­

“And there’s a captive balloon!”

Thorpe added, “Jim is rather blue, you know.”  As soon as we were alone, Ajax said savagely—­

“Do you think Jim understands?”

“Understands what?”

“Oh, don’t pretend!  We know our Thorpe by this time.  He’s a cutlet-for-a-cutlet fellow.  What do I say?  A cutlet-for-a-baron-of-beef gentleman.  Hang him!”