“No.”
“What then?”
“I’m going to take up a farm up thar whar the Pine boys is settled, and I’m going to enjoy life reasonable. Thar’s good soil, and thar’s water; thar’s pleasant prospects, and lots of game and fish. What more does a man want? And what makes me sick is that it’s been thar all the time and it’s only just this minute I’ve come to see it.”
“Mines for you, Johnny, or home?” asked Talbot.
“Me, home?” cried Johnny; “why─” he checked himself, and added more quietly. “No, I’m not going 437 home. There’s nothing there for me but a good time, when you come right down to it. And mines? It strikes me that fresh gold is easy to get, but almighty hard to keep.”
“You never said a truer word than that, Johnny,” I put in.
“Besides which, I quit mining some time ago, as you remember,” went on Johnny, “due to an artistic aversion to hard work,” he added.
“Any plans?” asked Talbot.
“I think I’ll just drift up to Sonoma and talk things over with Danny Randall,” replied Johnny vaguely. “He had some sort of an idea of extending this express service next year.”
“And you?” Talbot turned to me.