fraud, and that each man in camp had, consequently, a right to demand
satisfaction of him.

But the judge decided that he of the trampled foot was right, and that
any miner who wouldn't take such a chance, whether fraudulently or
otherwise, hadn't the spirit of a man in him.

Yankee Sam, the shortest man in camp, withdrew from the crowd, and paced
the banks of the creek, lost in thought. Within half an hour Sam was
owner of the only store in the place, had doubled the prices of all
articles of clothing contained therein, and increased at least six-fold
the price of all the white shirts.

Next day the sun rose on Bottle Flat in his usual conservative and
impassive manner. Had he respected the dramatic proprieties, he would
have appeared with astonished face and uplifted hands, for seldom had a
whole community changed so completely in a single night.

Uncle Hans, the only German in the camp, had spent the preceding
afternoon in that patient investigation for which the Teutonic mind is
so justly noted. The morning sun saw over Hans's door a sign, in
charcoal, which read, "SHAVIN' DUN HIER"; and few men went to the creek
that morning without submitting themselves to Hans's hands.

Then several men who had been absent from the saloon the night before
straggled into camp, with jaded mules and new attire. Carondelet Joe
came in, clad in a pair of pants, on which slender saffron-hued serpents
ascended graceful gray Corinthian columns, while from under the collar
of a new white shirt appeared a cravat, displaying most of the lines of
the solar spectrum.