ow mighty queer
it was that while we were working like niggers on grub wages, without
the ghost of a chance of making a strike, how we used to sit here, night
after night, and flapdoodle and speculate about what we'd do if we ever
DID make one; and now, Great Scott! that we HAVE made it, and are just
wallowing in gold, here we are sitting as glum and silent as if we'd
had a washout! Why, Lord! I remember one night--not so long ago,
either--that you two quarreled over the swell hotel you were going to
stop at in 'Frisco, and whether you wouldn't strike straight out for
London and Rome and Paris, or go away to Japan and China and round by
India and the Red Sea."

"No, we didn't QUARREL over it," said one of the figures gently; "there
was only a little discussion."

"Yes, but you did, though," returned the young fellow mischievously,
"and you told Stacy, there, that we'd better learn something of the
world before we tried to buy it or even hire it, and that it was just
as well to get the hayseed out of our hair and the slumgullion off our
boots before we mixed in polite society."

"Well, I don't see what's the matter with that sentiment now," returned
the second speaker good-humoredly; "only," he added gravely, "we didn't
quarrel--God forbid!"

There was something in the speaker's tone which seemed to touch a common
chord in their natures, and this was voiced by Barker with sudden and
almost pathetic earnestness. "I tell you what, boys, we ought to swear
here to-night to always stand by each other--in luck and out of it! We
ought to hold ourselves always at each other's call. We ought to have
a kind of password or signal, you know, by which we could summon each
other at any time from any quarter of the globe!"

"Come off the roof, Barker," murmured Stacy, without lifting his eyes
from the fire. But Demorest smiled and glanced tolerantly at the younger
man.

"Yes, but look here, Stacy," continued Barker, "comrades like us, in
the old days, used to do that in times of trouble and adventures. Why
shouldn't we do it in our luck?"

"There's a good deal in that, Barker boy," said Demorest, "though, as
a general thing, passwords butter no parsnips, and the ordinary,
every-day, single yelp from a wolf brings the whole pack together for
business about as quick as a password. But you cling to that sentiment,
and put it away with your gold-dust in your belt."

"What I like about Barker is his commodiousness," said Stacy. "H