It was the most encouragement I could give and he went off gloomy.  Ben was certainly one conscientious objector.

Nothing come from Ed for over a year.  Then he writes that he has give up the cattle business for good, because Mexico is in a state of downright anarchy and he has been shot through the shoulder.  He put it well.  He said he had been shot from ambush by a cowardly Mexican and I wouldn’t believe how lawless that country was.  So now he was going to take up mining in God’s own country, where a man could get a square deal if he kept out of railroading.  And was Ben keeping up his exercise?

He stayed under the surface for about three years.  Neither Ben nor I heard a word from him.  I told Ben it was many chances to one that he had gone under at the hands of someone that wanted to keep his cattle or his mine or something.  Ben looked solemn and relieved at this suggestion.  He said if the Grim Reaper had done its work, well and good!  Life was full of danger for the best of us, with people dropping off every day or so; and why should Ed have hoped to be above the common lot?

But the very next week comes a letter from the deceased wanting to know whether Ben has been promoted some more and how he is looking by this time.  Is he vigorous and hearty, or does office work seem to be sapping his vitality?  It was the same old Ed. He goes on to say that the reason he writes is that the other night in Globe, Arizona, he licked a man in the Miners’ Rest saloon that looked enough like Ben to be his twin; not only looked the image of him but had his style of infighting.  And he had licked him right and made him quit.  He said the gent finally fled, going through the little swinging doors with such force that they kept swinging for three minutes afterward.  So now is the time for him to come up and have another go at Ben.

Of course he ain’t superstitious, but it does seem like Providence has taken this means of pointing out the time to him.  But he is in reduced circumstances at this moment, owing to complications it would take too long to explain; so will I lend him about two hundred and fifty dollars to make the trip on?  And he will have Ben off his mind forever and be able to settle down to some life work.  Just as sane as ever—­Ed was.

I sent the letter to Ben, not wishing him to rest in false security.  But I wrote Ed firmly that I couldn’t see my money’s worth in his proposition.  I told him Ben was keeping in splendid condition, having the glow of health in his cheeks and a grip like an osteopath, and I’d be darned if I was going to back a three-time loser in the same old fight.  I said he wasn’t the only sensitive person in the world.  I was a little fussy myself about what people might think of my judgment.  And I gave him some good advice which was to forget his nonsense and settle down to something permanent before he died of penury.