made. They even got to resemble each other, after the fashion of old
married couples, or, rather, as in matrimonial partnerships, were
subject to the domination of the stronger character; although in
their case it is to be feared that it was the feminine Uncle
Billy--enthusiastic, imaginative, and loquacious--who swayed the
masculine, steady-going, and practical Uncle Jim. They had lived in the
camp since its foundation in 1849; there seemed to be no reason why
they should not remain there until its inevitable evolution into a
mining-town. The younger members might leave through restless ambition
or a desire for change or novelty; they were subject to no such trifling
mutation. Yet Cedar Camp was surprised one day to hear that Uncle Billy
was going away.

The rain was softly falling on the bark thatch of the cabin with a
muffled murmur, like a sound heard through sleep. The southwest trades
were warm even at that altitude, as the open door testified, although
a fire of pine bark was flickering on the adobe hearth and striking out
answering fires from the freshly scoured culinary utensils on the rude
sideboard, which Uncle Jim had cleaned that morning with his usual
serious persistency. Their best clothes, which were interchangeable and
worn alternately by each other on festal occasions, hung on the
walls, which were covered with a coarse sailcloth canvas instead of
lath-and-plaster, and were diversified by pictures from illustrated
papers and stains from the exterior weather. Two "bunks," like ships'
berths,--an upper and lower one,--occupied the gable-end of this single
apartment, and on beds of coarse sacking, filled with dry moss, were
carefully rolled their respective blankets and pillows. They were the
only articles not used in common, and whose individuality was respected.

Uncle Jim, who had been sitting before the fire, rose as the square bulk