apidated,
rudely patched cabins or cottages, like stranded driftwood around its
shore. But there was no mansion, no block of houses, no street, not
another habitation or dwelling to be seen!

Uncle Billy's first shock of astonishment was succeeded by a feeling of
relief. He had secretly dreaded a meeting with his old partner in the
"haunts of fashion;" whatever was the cause that made Uncle Jim seek
this obscure retirement affected him but slightly; he even was thrilled
with a vague memory of the old shiftless camp they had both abandoned. A
certain instinct--he knew not why, or less still that it might be one of
delicacy--made him alight before they reached the first house. Bidding
the carriage wait, Uncle Billy entered, and was informed by a blowzy
Irish laundress at a tub that Jim Foster, or "Arkansaw Jim," lived at
the fourth shanty "beyant." He was at home, for "he'd shprained his
fut." Uncle Billy hurried on, stopped before the door of a shanty
scarcely less rude than their old cabin, and half timidly pushed it
open. A growling voice from within, a figure that rose hurriedly,
leaning on a stick, with an attempt to fly, but in the same moment sank
back in a chair with an hysterical laugh--and Uncle Billy stood in the
presence of his old partner! But as Uncle Billy darted forward, Uncle
Jim rose again, and this time with outstretched hands. Uncle Billy
caught them, and in one supreme pressure seemed to pour out and
transfuse his whole simple soul into his partner's. There they swayed
each other backwards and forwards and sideways by their still clasped
hands, until Uncle Billy, with a glance at Uncle Jim's bandaged ankle,
shoved him by sheer force down into his chair.

Uncle Jim was first to speak. "Caught, b' gosh! I mighter known you'd be
as big a fool as me! Look you, Billy Fall, do you know what you've done?
You've druv me out er the streets whar I was makin' an honest livin', by
day, on three crossin's! Yes," he laughed forgivingly, "you druv me out
er it, by day, jest because I reckoned that some time I might run into
your darned fool face,"--another laugh and a grasp of the hand,--"and
then, b'gosh! not content with ruinin' my business BY DAY, when I
took to it at night, YOU took to goin' out at nights too, and so put a
stopper on me there! Shall I tell you what else you did? Well, by the
holy poker! I owe this sprained foot to your darned foolishness and my
own, for it was getting away from YOU one night af