Lin found a job in twenty-five minutes, becoming assistant to the apothecary in Mesa.  Established at the drug-store, he made up the simpler prescriptions.  He had studied practical pharmacy in Boston between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, and, besides this qualification, the apothecary had seen him when he first came into Mesa, and liked him.  Lin made no mistakes that he or any one ever knew of; and, as the mild weather began, he materially increased the apothecary’s business by persuading him to send East for a soda-water fountain.  The ladies of the town clustered around this entertaining novelty, and while sipping vanilla and lemon bought knickknacks.  And the gentlemen of the town discovered that whiskey with soda and strawberry syrup was delicious, and produced just as competent effects.  A group of them were generally standing in the shop and shaking dice to decide who should pay for the next, while Lin administered to each glass the necessary ingredients.  Thus money began to come to him a little more steadily than had been its wont, and he divided with the penniless Honey.

But Honey found fortune quickly, too.  Through excellent card-playing he won a pinto from a small Mexican horse-thief who came into town from the South, and who cried bitterly when he delivered up his pet pony to the new owner.  The new owner, being a man of the world and agile on his feet, was only slightly stabbed that evening as he walked to the dance-hall at the edge of the town.  The Mexican was buried on the next day but one.

The pony stood thirteen two, and was as long as a steamboat.  He had white eyelashes, pink nostrils, and one eye was bright blue.  If you spoke pleasantly to him, he rose instantly on his hind-legs and tried to beat your face.  He did not look as if he could run, and that was what made him so valuable.  Honey travelled through the country with him, and every gentleman who saw the pinto and heard Honey became anxious to get up a race.  Lin always sent money for Wiggin to place, and he soon opened a bank account, while Honey, besides his racing-bridle, bought a silver-inlaid one, a pair of forty-dollar spurs, and a beautiful saddle richly stamped.  Every day (when in Mesa) Honey would step into the drug-store and inquire, “Lin, wher’re yu’ goin’?”

But Lin never answered any more.  He merely came to the soda-water fountain with the whiskey.  The passing of days brought a choked season of fine sand and hard blazing sky.  Heat rose up from the ground and hung heavily over man and beast.  Many insects sat out in the sun rattling with joy; the little tearing river grew clear from the swollen mud, and shrank to a succession of standing pools; and the fat, squatting cactus bloomed everywhere into butter-colored flowers big as tulips in the sand.  There were artesian wells in Mesa, and the water did not taste very good; but if you drank from the standing pools where the river had been, you repaired to the drug-store almost immediately.  A troop of wandering