“Not I.”
“Not remember Harry Carter, your old chum?”
“Good Heaven!” exclaimed Folsom, surveying anew the rough figure before him. “You don’t mean to say you are Harry Carter?”
“The same, at your service.”
“What a transformation! Why, you used to be rather a swell and now——”
“Now I look like a barbarian.”
“Well, rather,” said Folsom, laughing.
“You want me to explain? Such toggery as I used to wear would be the height of folly at the mines.”
“I hope you have had good luck,” said Folsom.
“Pretty fair,” said Carter, in a tone of satisfaction. “My pile has reached five thousand dollars.”