Bill of cherished memory ; and then the inevitable 

 question got itself asked : 



" Did you ever shoot a man, Rocky ? " 



" No, Sonny," he drawled gently, " never hed ter 

 use it yet ! " 



" It looks very old. Have you had it long ? " 



" Jus' 'bout thirty years, I reckon ! " 



" Oh ! Seems a long time to carry a thing without 

 using it ! " 



" Waal," he answered half absently, " thet's so. 

 It's a thing you don't want orfen but when you do, 

 you want it derned bad ! " 



Rocky seemed to me to have stepped into our life 

 out of the pages of Bret Harte. For me the glamour 

 of romance was cast by the Master's spell over all that 

 world, and no doubt helped to make old Rocky some- 

 thing of a hero in the eyes of youth ; but such help 

 was of small account, for the cardinal fact was Rocky 

 himself. He was a man. 



There did not seem to be any known region of the 

 earth where prospectors roam that he had not sampled, 

 and yet whilst gleaning something from every land, 

 his native flavour clung to him unchanged. He was 

 silent by habit and impossible to draw ; not helpful 

 to those who looked for short cuts, yet kindly and 

 patient with those who meant to try ; he was not to 

 be exploited, and had an illuminating instinct for 

 what was not genuine He had 'no use for short 

 weight ' and showed it ! 



I used to watch him in the circle round the fire 

 at nights, his face grave, weather-stained and 

 29 



