“Can a man save money here?”

“If he’ll be careful of what he gets.  But much of our dust goes there.”

He pointed, as he spoke, to a small cabin, used as a store and gambling den at one and the same time.  There in the evening the miners collected, and by faro, poker, or monte managed to lose all that they had washed out during the day.

“That’s the curse of our mining settlement,” said their informant.  “But for the temptations which the gaming-house offers, many whom you see working here would now be on their way home with a comfortable provision for their families.  I never go there, but then I am in the minority.”

“What did you used to do when you was to hum?” inquired Joshua, who was by nature curious and had no scruples about gratifying his curiosity.

“I used to keep school winters.  In the spring and summer I assisted my father on his farm down in Maine.”

“You don’t say you’re from Maine?  Why, I’m from Maine myself,” remarked Joshua.

“Indeed!  Whereabouts in Maine did you live?”

“Pumpkin Hollow.”

“I kept school in Pumpkin Hollow one winter.”

“You don’t say so?  What is your name?” inquired Joshua earnestly.

“John Kellogg.”

“I thought so!” exclaimed Mr. Bickford, excited.

“Why, I used to go to school to you, Mr. Kellogg.”

“It is nine years ago, and you must have changed so much that I cannot call you to mind.”

“Don’t you remember a tall, slab-sided youngster of thirteen, that used to stick pins into your chair for you to set on?”

Kellogg smiled.

“Surely you are not Joshua Bickford?” he said.

“Yes, I am.  I am that same identical chap.”

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Bickford,” said his old school-teacher, grasping Joshua’s hand cordially.

“It seems kinder queer for you to call me Mr. Bickford.”

“I wasn’t so ceremonious in the old times,” said Kellogg.

“No, I guess not.  You’d say, ‘Come here, Joshua,’ and you’d jerk me out of my seat by the collar.  ‘Did you stick that pin in my chair?’ That’s the way you used to talk.  And then you’d give me an all-fired lickin’.”

Overcome by the mirthful recollections, Joshua burst into an explosive fit of laughter, in which presently he was joined by Joe and his old teacher.

“I hope you’ve forgiven me for those whippings, Mr. Bickford.”

“They were jest what I needed, Mr. Kellogg.  I was a lazy young rascal, as full of mischief as a nut is of meat.  You tanned my hide well.”

“You don’t seem to be any the worse for it now.”

“I guess not.  I’m pretty tough.  I say, Mr. Kellogg,” continued Joshua, with a grin, “you’d find it a harder job to give me a lickin’ now than you did then.”

“I wouldn’t undertake it now.  I am afraid you could handle me.”

“It seems cur’us, don’t it, Joe?” said Joshua.  “When Mr. Kellogg used to haul me round the schoolroom, it didn’t seem as if I could ever be a match for him.”