He grunted and remarked that a man would do better to sit at the front and see what was going on in the town. Then he rose and, walking to and fro, flung remarks to me, in passing, regarding the doings in the city and the mines and so forth, the local gossip of the place. He had just reverted to his first theme of the absurdity of sitting at the rear of the house when out came Apache Kid and Donoghue and threw themselves into the chairs near me, Donoghue taking the one beside me which Canlan had just vacated. If Canlan thought a man a fool for choosing the rear instead of the front, he was evidently, nevertheless, content to be a fool himself, for after one or two peregrinations and expectorations he drew a chair to the front of the verandah and seated himself, half turned towards us, and began amusing himself with tilting the chair to and fro like a rocker. The valley was all in shadow now, and as we sat there in the silence the moon swam up in the middle of one of the clefts of the mountains, silhouetting for a brief space, ere it left them for the open sky, the ragged edge of the tree-tops in the highest forest. Apache Kid muttered something, Donoghue growled, "What say?" And it surprised me somewhat to hear the reply: "O! I was only saying ’with how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies.’ It’s lonesome-like, up there, Larry." "Aye! Lonesome!" replied Larry with a sigh. A fifth man joined us then, and, hearing this, remarked: "A man thinks powerful up there." "That’s no lie," Donoghue growled, and so the conversation, if conversation you can call it, went on, interspersed with long spaces of silence, broken only by the gurgling of the newcomer’s pipe and Canlan’s "spit, spit" which came quicker now. Men are prone in such times as these to sit and exchange truisms instead of carrying on any manner of conversation. Yet to me, not long in the country, there was a touch of mystery in even the truisms. "I never seen a man who had spent much time in the mountains that was just what you could call all there in the upper story," said the man with the juicy pipe. "Nor I," said Donoghue. "They ’re all half crazy, them old prospectors," continued the first, "and tell you the queerest yarns about things they ’ve seen in the mountains and expect you to believe them. You can see from the way they talk that they believe ’em themselves. But I don’t see why a man should lose his reason in the hills. If a man lets his brain go when he ’s up there, then he don’t have any real enjoyment out of the fortune he makes—if he happens to strike it." The moon was drifted far upward now and all the frontage of the hill was tipped with light green, among the darker green, where the trees that soared above their neighbours caught the light. "And there must be lots of fortunes lying there thick if one knew where to find them," continued the talker of truisms. "Where?" said Apache in a soft voice.