“Yes,” said Uncle Billy eagerly. “Yes! I've got”--He stopped and stammered. “I've got--a--few hundreds.” “Oh, oh!” said Uncle Jim cheerfully. He paused, and then added earnestly, “I say! You ain't got left, over and above your d--d foolishness at the Oriental, as much as five hundred dollars?” “I've got,” said Uncle Billy, blushing a little over his first deliberate and affected lie, “I've got at least five hundred and seventy-two dollars. Yes,” he added tentatively, gazing anxiously at his partner, “I've got at least that.” “Je whillikins!” said Uncle Jim, with a laugh. Then eagerly, “Look here, pard! Then we're on velvet! I've got NINE hundred; put your FIVE with that, and I know a little ranch that we can get for twelve hundred. That's what I've been savin' up for--that's my little game! No more minin' for ME. It's got a shanty twice as big as our old cabin, nigh on a hundred acres, and two mustangs. We can run it with two Chinamen and jest make it howl! Wot yer say--eh?” He extended his hand. “I'm in,” said Uncle Billy, radiantly grasping Uncle Jim's. But his smile faded, and his clear simple brow wrinkled in two lines. Happily Uncle Jim did not notice it. “Now, then, old pard,” he said brightly, “we'll have a gay old time to-night--one of our jamborees! I've got some whiskey here and a deck o' cards, and we'll have a little game, you understand, but not for 'keeps' now! No, siree; we'll play for beans.” A sudden light illuminated Uncle Billy's face again, but he said, with a grim desperation, “Not to-night! I've got to go into town. That fren' o' mine expects me to go to the theayter, don't ye see? But I'll be out to-morrow at sun-up, and we'll fix up this thing o' the ranch.” “Seems to me you're kinder stuck on this fren',” grunted Uncle Jim. Uncle Billy's heart bounded at his partner's jealousy. “No--but I MUST, you know,” he returned, with a faint laugh. “I say--it ain't a HER, is it?” said Uncle Jim. Uncle Billy achieved a diabolical wink and a creditable blush at his lie. “Billy?” “Jim!” And under cover of this festive gallantry Uncle Billy escaped. He ran through the gathering darkness, and toiled up the shifting sands to the top of the hill, where he found the carriage waiting. “Wot,” said Uncle Billy in a low confidential tone to the coachman, “wot do you 'Frisco fellers allow to be the best, biggest, and riskiest gamblin'-saloon here? Suthin' high-toned, you know?” The negro grinned. It was the usual case of the extravagant spendthrift miner, though perhaps he had expected a different question and order. “Dey is de 'Polka,' de 'El Dorado,' and de 'Arcade' saloon, boss,” he said, flicking his whip meditatively. “Most gents from de mines prefer de 'Polka,' for dey is dancing wid de gals frown in. But de real prima facie place for gents who go for buckin' agin de tiger and straight-out gamblin' is de 'Arcade.'” “Drive there like thunder!” said Uncle Billy, leaping into the carriage. *****