By and by, when the company were far in the rear, I put away my pipe —­I was getting fearfully dry and crisp about the gills and rather blown with good diligent work—­and spurred my animated trance up alongside the Arab and stopped him and asked for water.  He unslung his little gourd-shaped earthenware jug, and I put it under my moustache and took a long, glorious, satisfying draught.  I was going to scour the mouth of the jug a little, but I saw that I had brought the whole train together once more by my delay, and that they were all anxious to drink too—­and would have been long ago if the Arab had not pretended that he was out of water.  So I hastened to pass the vessel to Davis.  He took a mouthful, and never said a word, but climbed off his horse and lay down calmly in the road.  I felt sorry for Davis.  It was too late now, though, and Dan was drinking.  Dan got down too, and hunted for a soft place.  I thought I heard Dan say, “That Arab’s friends ought to keep him in alcohol or else take him out and bury him somewhere.”  All the boys took a drink and climbed down.  It is not well to go into further particulars.  Let us draw the curtain upon this act.

..............................

Well, now, to think that after three changing years I should hear from that curious old relic again, and see Dan advertising it for sale for the benefit of a benevolent object.  Dan is not treating that present right.  I gave that pipe to him for a keepsake.  However, he probably finds that it keeps away custom and interferes with business.  It is the most convincing inanimate object in all this part of the world, perhaps.  Dan and I were roommates in all that long “Quaker City” voyage, and whenever I desired to have a little season of privacy I used to fire up on that pipe and persuade Dan to go out; and he seldom waited to change his clothes, either.  In about a quarter, or from that to three-quarters of a minute, he would be propping up the smoke-stack on the upper deck and cursing.  I wonder how the faithful old relic is going to sell?

A REMINISCENCE OF THE BACK SETTLEMENTS

“Now that corpse [said the undertaker, patting the folded hands of the deceased approvingly] was a brick—­every way you took him he was a brick.  He was so real accommodating, and so modest-like and simple in his last moments.  Friends wanted metallic burial case—­nothing else would do.  I couldn’t get it.  There warn’t going to be time anybody could see that.  Corpse said never mind, shake him up some kind of a box he could stretch out in comfortable, he warn’t particular ’bout the general style of it.  Said he went more on room than style, any way, in the last final container.  Friends wanted a silver door-plate on the coffin, signifying who he was and wher’ he was from.  Now you know a fellow couldn’t roust out such a gaily thing as that in a little country town like this.  What did