in earnest about starting to-night," said Cartwright, as he unhitched the bridle of his mustang. Farwell nodded an assent, and mounting their horses the two friends rode off across the arid plain, whose soil produces nothing but a few scraggy fir-trees, and the short grayish grass so common in mining districts.
As Farwell rode through Chestnut Street, he said with a half-sigh,—
"Jack, I am sorry to go, for some reasons. I have not been here long enough to feel the monotony which must come, I suppose, and I still am bound by the novelty and freshness of the existence here. There is a vigor and youth about the country which we in the East have lost already; before we have grown to our prime, we are old."
"Yes," said Jack; "remember this is the boss mining camp of the world that you are turning your back upon, because of an echo in the mine that you fancy is the voice of some woman. It's not like you, Charlie, to be so deuced fanciful."
