This was very fairly spoken and I felt that I should say something handsome, but he gave me no opportunity, continuing at once: "Donoghue here and I are wanting a partner on an expedition that we are going on. We ’re very old friends, we two, but for quite a little while back we had both been meditating going on this expedition separately. Fact is, we are such very old friends and know each other’s weaknesses so well that, though we both had the idea of the expedition in our heads, we did n’t care about going together." All this he spoke as much to Donoghue as to me, with a bantering air; and one thing at least I learned from this—the reason why these two had not done as Laughlin thought the natural thing for them to do, namely, to go out together, heedless of Canlan. For I had no doubt whatever that the expedition was to the Lost Cabin Mine. That was as clear as the sun. Further observation of their natures, if further observation I was to have, might explain their long reluctance to "go partners" on the venture, a reluctance now evidently overcome. "Get to your job," growled Donoghue, "and quit palaver." It was evident that Apache Kid was determined not to permit himself to be irritated, for he only smiled on Donoghue’s snarl and turned to me: "My friend Donoghue and I," said he, "it is necessary to explain, are such very old friends that we can cordially hate each other." "At times," interjected Donoghue. "Yes; upon occasion," said Apache Kid. "To you, new to this country, such a state of things between friends may be scarcely comprehensible, but——" and Apache Kid stopped. "It’s them mountains that does it," said Donoghue, with a heavy frown. "Them mountains, as Donoghue says; that’s it. It’s queer how the mountains, when you get among them, seem to creep in all round you and lock you up. It does n’t take long among them with a man to know whether you and he belong to the same order and breed. There are men who can never sleep under the same blanket; yes, never sleep on the same side of the fire; never, after two days in the hills, ride side by side, but must get space between them." His eyes were looking past me on things invisible to me, looking in imagination, I suppose, on his own past from which he spoke. "And if you don’t like your partner, you know it then," Donoghue said. "You go riding along and if he speaks to you, you want him to shut it. And if he don’t speak, you ask him what in thunder he’s broodin’ about. And you look for him to fire up at you then, and if he don’t, you feel worse than ever and go along with just a little hell burning against him in here," and he tapped his chest. "You could turn on him and eat him; yes siree, kill him with your teeth in his neck." "This is called the return to Nature," said Apache Kid, calmly. "Return to hell!" cried Donoghue, and Apache Kid inclined his head in acquiescence. He seemed content to let Donoghue now do the talking.