the week before, and his points had been carefully scrutinized and
weighed, time and again, by every man in the camp. There seemed nothing
unusual about him--he was of middle size, and long hair and beard, a not
unpleasant expression, and very dirty clothes; he never jumped a claim,
always took his whisky straight, played as fair a game of poker as the
average of the boys, and never stole a mule from any one whiter than a
Mexican. The boys had just about ascertained all this, and made their
"blind" bets on the result of the next fight, when the whole camp was
convulsed with the intelligence that Billy Bent had also arrived. Work
immediately ceased, except in the immediate vicinity of the champions,
and the boys stuck close to the chapel, that being the spot where the
encounter should naturally take place. Miners thronged in from fifty
miles around, and nothing but a special mule express saved the camp from
the horror of Pentecost's bar being inadequate to the demand. Between
"straight bets" and "hedging" most of the gold dust in camp had been
"put up," for a bet is the only California backing of an opinion. As the
men did not seem to seek each other, the boys had ample time to "grind
things down to a pint," as the camp concisely expressed it, and the
matter had given excuse for a dozen minor fights, when order was
suddenly restored one afternoon by the entrance of Billy and his
neighbors, just as the Judge and _his_ neighbors were finishing a drink.

The boys immediately and silently formed a ring, on the outer edge of
which were massed all the men who had been outside, and who came pouring
in like flies before a shower. No one squatted or hugged the wall, for
it was understood that these two men fought only with knives, so the
spectators were in a state of abject safety.

The Judge, after settling for the drinks, turned, and saw for the first
time his enemy.