"By Jove, Jim, but is not this a desolate region? It is as though when
the rocky foundation had been laid, there was no more material to furnish
this part of the world with, and the work stopped."

"Yes, Jack," was Sedgwick's answer. "I knew an old man once. He was very
aged and most decrepit. His face was but a mass of wrinkles; his back was
bent; he always wore a frown on his face, and every relative he had
wished that he was dead. But his bank account was a mighty one; he had
given grand homes and plenty of money to each of his six children; he
still possessed a fortune so large that his neighbors could not estimate
it. I never look out upon the face of Nevada that I do not think of that
old man.

"The fairest structures in San Francisco were built of the treasures
taken from Nevada hills; clear across the continent, in every great city
are beautiful blocks which are but Nevada gold and silver converted into
stone and iron and glass; in every State are fair homes which were bought
or redeemed with the money obtained here in the desert. Beyond that, the
money already supplied from Nevada mines has changed the calculations of
commerce, and made itself a ruling factor in prices; it has given our
nation a new standing among the nations of the world; because of it, the
lands are worth more money even in the Miami Valley where I was born;
because of it, better wages are paid to laborers throughout our republic;
it has been a factor of good, a blessing to civilization; and yet Eastern
people revile Nevada and look upon it as did the relatives of the old man
I was telling you of, because it is wrinkled and sere and always wears a
frowning face."

As Sedgwick and Browning neared Chicago, the former began to grow
restless, and finally said:

"Jack, old friend, you must go home with me. It is something I dread more
than riding mustangs or fighting cowboys. It is more than five years
since I went away, and it will be just worse than a fire in a mine to
face."

Browning agreed that a few days more or less would not count. "Because,"
he said, "if Rose Jenvie is still Rose Jenvie, it will not much matter;
if Rose Jenvie is not Rose Jenvie, then, by Jove, every minute of delay
in knowing that fact is good. Besides, you know, I want to see that
three-hundred-acre farm of old Jasper's on the hill which you are to
buy."

They remained a few hours only in Chicago, and took the evening train for
the valley of the Miami. The next m