“Know anythin’ about ’em? I sure do like to talk about things—kinda wonder about things, ye understand. Me f’r the why-are-we-here business every time. The desert an’ the mountains makes a fella thataway—seems. Say, I’ve wondered about why I’m here so much that I think I’ve got the answer. But, then, ye’ll only think I’m a nut—so why bother ye? And I wonder about stars and the moon a lot, too. Sun don’t interest me much, except that, seein’ all life depends on the sun, I c’n sympathize with the sun-worshipers without half tryin’. But the sun’s too all-fired prominent to raise my curiosity. The moon and stars, now, I c’n look up at them without havin’ my eyes put out. And say—wonder! Leave it to me! D’ye know anythin’ at all about astronomy?”
“A little.”
The slate eyes studied Joshua again. “Ye was well raised, I c’n see that,” said California Bill. “Maybe ye ain’t talkin’ through yer hat. I’ve seen men an’ men—I think I know ’em pretty well. I took men to the penitentiary— That is, I mean I seen men goin’ to the penitentiary that could reel off Shakespeare an’ trigonometry an’ socialism—say! An’ one fella that I saw knew more about this here Einstein than Einstein does ’imself. ’Tleast, it sounded like he did to me. Ye can’t tell about men from th’ clothes they wear ner the job they got, ner nothin’ like that—but I’m a hog fer readin’ their face. Well, you ride with me an’ we’ll talk about astronomy. I’m harmless. Just a character.”
“Have you lived in California long?” asked Joshua.
“Longer’n that. I lived here forever.”
“Forever?”
“Fifty-three year, if ye press me, pardner. An’ I’m fifty-three year old. What call’d they have to brand me California Bill Fox if I’d ever been anywhere else? I was born here an’ ain’t ever goin’ to leave. That’s forever far’s I’m concerned.”
California Bill found it impossible to talk while he gulped down half a cup of hot coffee, so Joshua took the opportunity to shift the conversation into the channel that he wanted it to travel.
“Have you been up where the road is building?” he asked.
California Bill lowered his granite cup. “Yeah—a billion times. But that’s before a railroad was thought of. The new wagon road’s just been finished to G-string, though, an’ I drove stage up there right along until Saturday week ago. Then the Old West says, ‘Bill, I’m passin’. It’s up to you. What’re ye doin’?’ An’ I says, ‘I pass, too.’”