"Then they may bury me," retorted Charley bitterly, "but I've eaten my
share of crow. I ain't goin' to eat any more. Can't go East now with the
taste of it in my mouth. I'd rather they buried me."

And they did bury him--about a fortnight after.

July, 1892.

* * * * *

THE BEST MAN IN GAROTTE.

Lawyer Rablay had come from nobody knew where. He was a small man,
almost as round as a billiard ball. His body was round, his head was
round; his blue eyes and even his mouth and chin were round; his nose
was a perky snub; he was florid and prematurely bald--a picture of good-
humour. And yet he was a power in Garotte. When he came to the camp, a
row was the only form of recreation known to the miners. A "fuss" took
men out of themselves, and was accordingly hailed as an amusement;
besides, it afforded a subject of conversation. But after Lawyer
Rablay's arrival fights became comparatively infrequent. Would-be
students of human nature declared at first that his flow of spirits was
merely animal, and that his wit was thin; but even these envious ones
had to admit later that his wit told, and that his good-humour was
catching.

Crocker and Harrison had nearly got to loggerheads one night for no
reason apparently, save that each had a high reputation for courage, and
neither could find a worthier antagonist. In the nick of time Rablay
appeared; he seemed to understand the situation at a glance, and broke