The big boss—“Cholly Clocker” to the Orientals—rode into the midst of a group, produced a paper, and called off the names of the men. As each stepped forward he dipped into the saddle-bags—gold on one side, silver on the other—and dropped the coins into the lifted palm. It was a chore he insisted on doing himself. Riding up the noisy canyon with a hundred and fifty pounds of gold and silver in his saddle-bags appealed to his sense of the dramatic, and its distribution periodically confirmed a pleasant sense of power. Later he was to remark in sincere admiration: “My faculty of leadership
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