Berryn looked doubtingly at him as they entered the saloon.

"P'r'aps somebody here ken tell this gentleman my name?" said Buffle.

"Buffle!" said several voices in chorus.

"Bully! Now, p'r'aps you same fellers ken tell him ef I'm a man uv my word?"

"You bet," responded the same chorus.

"An' now, p'r'aps some uv yer'll sell me a good hoss, pervidin' yer don't want him stole mighty sudden?"

Several men invited attention to their respective animals, tied near the door. Promptly selecting one, paying for it, and settling with the barkeeper, and mounting his own horse while Berryn mounted the new one, the two men galloped away, leaving the bystanders lost in astonishment, from which they only recovered after almost superhuman industry on the part of the barkeeper.

One evening, when the daily labors and household cares of the Pat Pocket Gulchites had ended, the residents of that quiet village were congregated, as usual, at the saloon. It was too early for gambling and fighting, and the boys chatted peacefully, pausing only a few times to drink "Here's her," which had become the standard toast of the Gulch.

Conversation turned on Muggy's invention, and a few bets were exchanged, which showed the boys were not quite sure it was a rocker, after all. Suddenly Sandytop, who had been leaning against the door-frame, and, looking in the direction of Buffle's old cabin, ejaculated:

"'_Tis_ a rocker, boys--it's a rocker, but--but not that kind."

The boys poured out the door, and saw an unusual procession approaching Mrs. Berryn's cabin; first came Uppercrust, the young ex-doctor, then an Irishwoman from a neighboring settlement, and then Muggy, bearing a baby's cradle, neatly made of pine boards. The doctor and woman went in, and Muggy, dropping the cradle, ran at full speed to the saloon, and up to the bar, the crowd following.

Muggy looked along the line, saw all the glasses were filled and in hand, and then, raising his own, exclaimed, "Here's her, boys!" and then went into a fully developed boo-hoo. And he was not alone; for once the boys watered their liquor, and purer water God never made.

It was some moments before shirt-sleeves ceased to officiate as handkerchiefs; but just as the boys commenced to look savagely at each other, as if threatening cold lead if any one suspected undue tenderness, Sandytop, who had returned to his post at the door to give ease to the stream which his sleeve could not staunch, again startled the crowd by staring earnestly toward the hill over which led the trail, and exclaiming, "Good God!"

There was another rush to the door, and there, galloping down the trail, was Buffle and another man. The boys stared at each other, but said nothing--their gift of swearing was not equal to the occasion.

Steadily they stared at the two men, until Buffle, reining back a little, pointed his pistol threateningly. They took the hint, and after they were all inside, Sandytop closed the door and the shutters of the unglazed windows.

"Thar's my shanty," said Buffle, as they neared it from one side; "that one with two bar'ls fur a chimley. You jest go right in. I'll be thar ez soon ez I put up the hosses."

As they reached the front, both men started at the sight of the cradle.

"Why, I didn't know you were a married man, Buffle?" said his companion.

"I--well--I--I--don't tell everything" stammered Buffle; and, catching the bridle of Berryn's horse the moment his rider had dismounted, Buffle dashed off to the saloon, and took numerous solitary drinks, at which no one took offense. Then he turned, nodded significantly toward the old shanty, and asked:

"How long since?"

"Not quite yit--yer got him here in time, Buffle," said Muggy.

"Thank the Lord!" said Buffle. His lips were very familiar with the name of the Lord, but they had never before used it in this sense.

Then, while several men were getting ready to ask Buffle where he found his man--Californians never ask questions in a hurry--there came from the direction of Buffle's shanty the sound of a subdued cry.

"Gentlemen," said the barkeeper, "there's no more drinking at this bar to-night until--until I say so."

No one murmured. No one swore. No one suggested a game. An old enemy of Buffle's happened in, but that worthy, instead of feeling for his pistol, quietly left the leaning-post, and bowed his enemy into it.

The boys stood and sat about, studied the cracks in the floor, the pattern of the shutters, contemplated the insides of their hats, and chewed tobacco as if their lives depended on it.

Buffle made frequent trips to the door, and looked out. Suddenly he closed the door, and had barely time to whisper, "No noise, now, or I'll shoot," when the doctor walked in. The crowd arose.

"It's all right, gentlemen," said the doctor--"as fine a boy as I ever saw."

"My treat for the rest of the evening, boys," said the barkeeper, hurriedly crowding glasses and bottles on the bar. "Her," "Him," "Him, Junior," "Buffle," "Doc.," and "Old Rockershop," as some happily inspired miner dubbed little Muggy, were drunk successively.

The door opened again, and in walked Allan Berryn. Glancing quickly about, he soon distinguished Buffle. He grasped his hand, looked him steadily in the eye, and exclaimed:

"Buffle, you--"

He was a Harvard graduate, and a fine talker, was Allan Berryn, but, when he had spoken two words, he somehow forgot the remainder of the speech he had made up on his way over; his silence for two or three seconds seemed of hours to every man who looked on his face, so that it was a relief to all when he gave Buffle a mighty hug, and then precipitately retreated.

Buffle looked sheepish, and shook himself.

"That feller can outhug a grizzly," said he. "Boys," he continued, "that chap's been buckin' agin luck sence he's been in the diggin's, an' is clean busted. But his luck begun to turn this evening, an' here's what goes for keepin' the ball a-rollin'. Here's my ante;" saying which, he laid his old hat on the bar, took out his buckskin bag of gold-dust, and emptied it into the hat.

Bags came out of pockets all around, and were either entirely emptied, or had their contents largely diminished by knife-blades, which scooped out the precious dust, and dropped it into the hat.

"There," said Buffle, looking into the hat, "I reckon that'll kerry 'em back to their folks."

For a fortnight the saloon was as quiet as a well-ordered prayer-meeting, and it was solemnly decided that no fight with pistols should take place nearer than The Bend, which was, at least, a mile from where the new resident's cradle was located.

One pleasant, quiet evening, Buffle, who frequently passed an hour with Berryn on the latter's woodpile, was seen approaching the saloon with a very small bundle, which, nevertheless, occupied both his arms and all his attention.

"It, by thunder," said one. So it was; a wee, pink-faced, blue-eyed, fuzzy-topped little thing, with one hand frantically clutching three hairs of Buflle's beard.

"See the little thing pull," said one.

"Is that all the nose they hev at fust?" asked another, seriously.

"Can't yer take them pipes out uv yer mouths when the baby's aroun'?"

indignantly demanded another.

Little Muggy edged his way through the crowd, threw away his quid of tobacco, took the baby from Buffle, and kissed it a dozen times.

"I'm goin' home, fellers," said Muggy, finally. "I'm wanted by the lawyers for cuttin' a man that sassed me while I was shoe-makin'. But I'm a-goin' to see my young uns, even if all creation wants me."

"An' I'm a-goin', too," said Buffle. "I'm wanted pretty bad by some that's East, but I reckon I'm well enough hid by the bar that's grow'd sence I wuz a boy, an' dug out from old Varmont. I've had a new taste uv decency lately, an' I'm goin' to see ef I can't stan' it for a stiddy diet. The chap over to the shanty sez he ken git me somethin' to do, an'

ennythin's better'n gamblin', drinkin', and fightin'.

"It's agin the law to kerry shootin'-irons there, Buffle," suggested one.

"Yes, an' they got a new kind uv a law there, to keep a man from takin'

his bitters," said another.

"Yes," said Buffle, "all that's mighty tough, but ef a feller's bound fur bed-rock, he might ez well git that all uv a sudden, ef he ken."