The old man closed his eyes, and did not reply. Two hours before, the question would have stung him into some evasion or bravado. But the revelation contained in the question, as well as the tone of York's voice, was to him now, in his pitiable condition, a relief. It was plain, even to his confused brain, that York had lied when he had indorsed his story in the bar-room; it was clear to him now that he had not been home, that he was not, as he had begun to fear, going mad. It was such a relief, that, with characteristic weakness, his former recklessness and extravagance returned. He began to chuckle, finally to laugh uproariously. York, with his eyes still fixed on the old man, withdrew the hand with which he had taken his. “Didn't we fool 'em nicely; eh, Yorky! He, he! The biggest thing yet ever played in this camp! I always said I'd play 'em all some day, and I have--played 'em for six months. Ain't it rich?--ain't it the richest thing you ever seed? Did you see Abner's face when he spoke 'bout that man as seed me in Sonora? Warn't it good as the minstrels? Oh, it's too much!” and, striking his leg with the palm of his hand, he almost threw himself from the bed in a paroxysm of laughter,--a paroxysm that, nevertheless, appeared to be half real and half affected. “Is that photograph hers?” said York in a low voice, after a slight pause. “Hers? No! It's one of the San Francisco actresses. He, he! Don't you see? I bought it for two bits in one of the bookstores. I never thought they'd swaller THAT too; but they did! Oh, but the old man played 'em this time didn't he--eh?” and he peered curiously in York's face. “Yes, and he played ME too,” said York, looking steadily in the old man's eye. “Yes, of course,” interposed Plunkett hastily; “but you know, Yorky, you got out of it well! You've sold 'em too. We've both got em on a string now--you and me--got to stick together now. You did it well, Yorky: you did it well. Why, when you said you'd seen me in York City, I'm d----d if I didn't”-- “Didn't what?” said York gently; for the old man had stopped with a pale face and wandering eye. “Eh?” “You say when I said I had seen you in New York you thought”-- “You lie!” said the old man fiercely. “I didn't say I thought any thing. What are you trying to go back on me for, eh?” His hands were trembling as he rose muttering from the bed, and made his way toward the hearth. “Gimme some whiskey,” he said presently “and dry up. You oughter treat anyway. Them fellows oughter treated last night. By hookey, I'd made 'em--only I fell sick.”