couples, or, rather, as in matrimonial partnerships, were
subject to the domination of the stronger character; although in their
case it is to be feared that it was the feminine Uncle
Billy--enthusiastic, imaginative, and loquacious--who swayed the
masculine, steady-going, and practical Uncle Jim. They had lived in
the camp since its foundation in 1849; there seemed to be no reason why
they should not remain there until its inevitable evolution into a
mining-town. The younger members might leave through restless ambition
or a desire for change or novelty; they were subject to no such
trifling mutation. Yet Cedar Camp was surprised one day to hear that
Uncle Billy was going away.

The rain was softly falling on the bark thatch of the cabin with a
muffled murmur, like a sound heard through sleep. The southwest trades
were warm even at that altitude, as the open door testified, although a
fire of pine bark was flickering on the adobe hearth and striking out
answering fires from the freshly scoured culinary utensils on the rude
sideboard, which Uncle Jim had cleaned that morning with his usual
serious persistency. Their best clothes, which were interchangeable
and worn alternately by each other on festal occasions, hung on the
walls, which were covered with a coarse sailcloth canvas instead of
lath-and-plaster, and were diversified by pictures from illustrated
papers and stains from the exterior weather. Two "bunks," like ships'
berths,--an upper and lower one,--occupied the gable-end of this single
apartment, and on beds of coarse sacking, filled with dry moss, were
carefully rolled their respective blankets and pillows. They were the
only articles not used in common, and whose individuality was respected.

Uncle Jim, who had been sitting before the fire, rose as the square
bulk of his partner appeared at the doorway with an armful of wood for
the evening stove. By that sign he knew it was nine o'clock: for the
last six years Uncle Billy had regularly brought in the wood at that
hour, and Uncle Jim had as regularly closed the door after him, and set
out their single table, containing a greasy pack of cards taken from
its drawer, a bottle of whiskey, and two tin drinking-cups. To this
was added a ragged memorandum-book and a stick of pencil. The two men
drew their stools to the table.

"Hol' on a minit," said Uncle Billy.

His partner laid down the cards as Uncle Billy extracted from his
pocket a pill-box, and