His partner laid down the cards as Uncle Billy extracted from his pocket a pill-box, and, opening it, gravely took a pill.  This was clearly an innovation on their regular proceedings, for Uncle Billy was always in perfect health.

“What’s this for?” asked Uncle Jim half scornfully.

“Agin ager.”

“You ain’t got no ager,” said Uncle Jim, with the assurance of intimate cognizance of his partner’s physical condition.

“But it’s a pow’ful preventive!  Quinine!  Saw this box at Riley’s store, and laid out a quarter on it.  We kin keep it here, comfortable, for evenings.  It’s mighty soothin’ arter a man’s done a hard day’s work on the river-bar.  Take one.”

Uncle Jim gravely took a pill and swallowed it, and handed the box back to his partner.

“We’ll leave it on the table, sociable like, in case any of the boys come in,” said Uncle Billy, taking up the cards.  “Well.  How do we stand?”

Uncle Jim consulted the memorandum-book.  “You were owin’ me sixty-two thousand dollars on the last game, and the limit’s seventy-five thousand!”

“Je whillikins!” ejaculated Uncle Billy.  “Let me see.”

He examined the book, feebly attempted to challenge the additions, but with no effect on the total.  “We oughter hev made the limit a hundred thousand,” he said seriously; “seventy-five thousand is only triflin’ in a game like ours.  And you’ve set down my claim at Angel’s?” he continued.

“I allowed you ten thousand dollars for that,” said Uncle Jim, with equal gravity, “and it’s a fancy price too.”

The claim in question being an unprospected hillside ten miles distant, which Uncle Jim had never seen, and Uncle Billy had not visited for years, the statement was probably true; nevertheless, Uncle Billy retorted:—­

“Ye kin never tell how these things will pan out.  Why, only this mornin’ I was taking a turn round Shot Up Hill, that ye know is just rotten with quartz and gold, and I couldn’t help thinkin’ how much it was like my ole claim at Angel’s.  I must take a day off to go on there and strike a pick in it, if only for luck.”

Suddenly he paused and said, “Strange, ain’t it, you should speak of it to-night?  Now I call that queer!”

He laid down his cards and gazed mysteriously at his companion.  Uncle Jim knew perfectly that Uncle Billy had regularly once a week for many years declared his final determination to go over to Angel’s and prospect his claim, yet nevertheless he half responded to his partner’s suggestion of mystery, and a look of fatuous wonder crept into his eyes.  But he contented himself by saying cautiously, “You spoke of it first.”

“That’s the more sing’lar,” said Uncle Billy confidently.  “And I’ve been thinking about it, and kinder seeing myself thar all day.  It’s mighty queer!” He got up and began to rummage among some torn and coverless books in the corner.

“Where’s that ‘Dream Book’ gone to?”