After this he fell into a fit of musing, and we remained silent for some time. When the fire had burnt low, I arose and replenished it. Nat looked anxiously at the roaring blaze, carrying ashes and cinders high in the air, and reflecting far out upon the dark river, and he remarked: “Wonder if some Injins won’t see that.” “I guess not. We are so low down the bank that I think it can be visible for no considerable distance upon the prairie, and the bend in the river fortunately saves us from view up or down the stream. The only point from which it would attract attention is directly across from us.” “And it looks suspicious enough there,” repeated Nat, in a whisper, removing his pipe and gazing across the river. It did indeed look gloomy, forbidding, and threatening. Our fire was nearly on the level with the water, which rolled darkly and noisily at our very feet; and when its crackling blaze arose higher than usual, the low face of the opposite shore was struck by the light. At such times I could not help reflecting what favorable chances were afforded any foe who might be lurking opposite. I involuntarily shrunk from the fire, and felt relieved when the shore blended with the darkness. It began to grow quite late, the fire had smoldered low, when Nat, removing his cap, turned upon me with: “What do you think of our journey to California?” I was at a loss to comprehend his meaning, and looked at him for an explanation. “I mean to ask whether you feel in such a hurry to get to mines as you did when we were in Independence?” Now, to confess the truth, the experience of the last week or two, and especially of the last two days, had done much toward dampening the ardor which I once thought could never leave me; and I believe, had I possessed moral courage enough, I should have seized the first opportunity to return to the comforts of a home, where I possessed enough to satisfy any sensible person’s ambition. Still I hesitated to commit myself. “I cannot say that I am; but what induced you to----” “I’m sick of this business,” interrupted Nat, lengthening his legs with a spiteful jerk, and looking disgustedly into the fire. “What has come over you?” I asked, half-amused at his manner. “Well there’s that mare----” “But you promised not to think of her.” “How can I help it, I should like to know? She’s gone sure, and there’s that overcoat, that cost me four dollars and a half in Lubec; and Alminy made a big pocket in it on purpose for me to fill full of gold chunks; and I should like to know how I am going to do it, when a Greaser has got it.” “I am afraid that that would not be the only difficulty you would be likely to experience, Nat, in getting it filled.”