The man rose, caught Islington by the shoulders, wheeled him round,
hugged him, felt of his ribs like a good-natured ogre, shook his hands
violently, laughed, and then said, somewhat ruefully, "And how ever did
you know me?"

Seeing that Yuba Bill evidently regarded himself as in some elaborate
disguise, Islington laughed, and suggested that it must have been
instinct.

"And you?" said Bill, holding him at arm's length, and surveying him
critically,--"you!--toe think--toe think--a little cuss no higher nor a
trace, a boy as I've flicked outer the road with a whip time in agin, a
boy ez never hed much clothes to speak of, turned into a sport!"

Islington remembered, with a thrill of ludicrous terror, that he still
wore his evening dress.

"Turned," continued Yuba Bill, severely,--"turned into a restyourant
waiter,--a garsong! Eh, Alfonse, bring me a patty de foy grass and an
omelette, demme!"

"Dear old chap!" said Islington, laughing, and trying to put his
hand over Bill's bearded mouth, "but you--YOU don't look exactly like
yourself! You're not well, Bill." And indeed, as he turned toward the
light, Bill's eyes appeared cavernous, and his hair and beard thickly
streaked with gray.

"Maybe it's this yer harness," said Bill, a little anxiously. "When I
hitches on this yer curb" (he indicated a massive gold watch-chain with