‘He was evidently quite worked up. Then he began, with solemn emphasis—
‘“Boys, you hear me! She’s a No. 1, triple X, the pure quill with a bead on it: she’s a—,” and for the first time in his Black Rock history Abe was stuck for a word. Some one suggested “angel.”
‘“Angel!” repeated Abe, with infinite contempt. “Angel be blowed,” (I paraphrase here); “angels ain’t in the same month with her; I’d like to see any blanked angel swing my team around them curves without a shiver.”
‘“Held the lines herself, Abe?” asked a miner.
‘“That’s what,” said Abe; and then he went off into a fusilade of scientific profanity, expressive of his esteem for the girl who had swung his team round the curves; and the miners nodded to each other, and winked their entire approval of Abe’s performance, for this was his specialty.
‘Very decent fellow, Abe, but his talk wouldn’t print.’
Here Craig paused, as if balancing Abe’s virtues and vices.
‘Well,’ I urged, ‘who is she?’
‘Oh yes,’ he said, recalling himself; ‘she is an Edinburgh young lady—met Lewis Mayor, a young Scotch-English man, in London—wealthy, good family, and all that, but fast, and going to pieces at home. His people, who own large shares in these mines here, as a last resort sent him out here to reform. Curiously innocent ideas those old country people have of the reforming properties of this atmosphere! They send their young bloods here to reform. Here! in this devil’s camp-ground, where a man’s lust is his only law, and when, from sheer monotony, a man must betake himself to the only excitement of the place—that offered by the saloon. Good people in the east hold up holy hands of horror at these godless miners; but I tell you it’s asking these boys a good deal to keep straight and clean in a place like this. I take my excitement in fighting the devil and doing my work generally, and that gives me enough; but these poor chaps—hard worked, homeless, with no break or change—God help them and me!’ and his voice sank low.
‘Well,’ I persisted, ‘did Mavor reform?’