For three days the reason of Rough-and-Ready trembled in the
balance. No work was done in the ditches, in the flume, nor in the
mills. Groups of men stood by the grave of the lamented relict of
Daddy Downey, as open-mouthed and vacant as that sepulchre. Never
since the great earthquake of '52 had Rough-and-Ready been so
stirred to its deepest foundations.

On the third day the sheriff of Calaveras--a quiet, gentle,
thoughtful man--arrived in town, and passed from one to the other
of excited groups, dropping here and there detached but concise and
practical information.

"Yes, gentlemen, you are right, Mrs. Downey is not dead, because
there wasn't any Mrs. Downey! Her part was played by George F.
Fenwick, of Sydney,--a 'ticket-of-leave-man,' who was, they say, a
good actor. Downey? Oh, yes Downey was Jem Flanigan, who, in '52,
used to run the variety troupe in Australia, where Miss Somerset
made her debut. Stand back a little, boys. Steady! 'The money?'
Oh, yes, they've got away with that, sure! How are ye, Joe? Why,
you're looking well and hearty! I rather expected ye court week.
How's things your way?"

"Then they were only play-actors, Joe Hall?" broke in a dozen
voices.

"I reckon!" returned the sheriff, coolly.

"And for a matter o' five blank years," said Whisky Dick, sadly,
"they played this camp!"