make other shops weep--not in the least--not at all--oh, no!"

"Eh?" inquired half a dozen.

"Don't b'leeve me if you don't want to, but just bet against it 'fore you go to see--that's all!" continued London George, fanning himself with his hat.

"George," said Judge Baggs, with considerable asperity, "ef you _are_ an Englishman, try to speak your native tongue, an' explain what you mean by actin' ez ef you'd jes' broke out of a lunatic 'sylum. Speak quick, or I'll fine you drinks for the crowd."

"Just as lieve you would," said the unabashed Briton, "seein'--seein'

Chestnut's got a female--a woman--a lady cashier--there! Guess them San Francisco saloons ain't the only ones that knows what's what--not any!"

"I don't b'leeve a word of it," said the judge, washing his hands rather hastily; "but I'll jest see for myself."

Cairo Jake looked thoughtfully on the retreating form of the judge, and remarked:

"He'll feel ashamed of hisself when he gits thar an' finds he'll hev to drink alone. Reckon I'll go up, jest to keep him from feelin' bad."

Several others seemed impressed by the same idea, and moved quite briskly in the direction of Chestnut's saloon.

The judge, protected by his age and a pair of green spectacles, boldly entered, while his followers dispersed themselves sheepishly just outside the open door, past which they marched and re-marched as industriously as a lot of special sentries.

There was no doubt about it. Chestnut had installed a lady at the end of the bar, and as, between breakfast and dinner, there was but little business done at the saloon, the lady was amusing herself by weighing corks and pebbles in the tiny scales which were to weigh the metallic equivalent for refreshments.

The judge contemplated the arrangements with considerable satisfaction, and immediately called up all thirsty souls present.

Those outside the door entered with the caution of veterans in an enemy's country, and with a bashfulness that was painful to contemplate.

They stood before the bar, they glanced cautiously to the right, and gently inclined their heads backward, until only a line of eyes and noses were visible from the cashier's desk.

Then the judge raised his green glasses a moment, and smiled benignantly on the new cashier as he raised his liquor aloft; then he turned to his party, and they drank the toast as solemnly as if they were the soldiers of Miles Standish fortifying the inner man against fear of the Pequods.

Then they separated into small groups, and conversed gravely on subjects in which they had not the slightest interest, while each one pretended not to look toward the cashier, and each one saw what the others were earnestly striving to do.

But when the judge settled the score, and chatted for several minutes with the receiver of treasure, and the lady--young, and rather pretty, and quite pleasant and modest and business-like--laughed merrily at something the judge said, an idea gradually dawned upon the bystanders, and within a few moments the boys feverishly awaited their chances to treat the crowd, for the sole purpose of having an excuse to speak to the new cashier, and to stand within three feet of her for about the space of a minute.

Great was the excitement on the Creek when the party returned, and testified to the entire accuracy of London George's report.

Every one went to the saloon that night--there _had_ been some games arranged to take place at certain huts, but they were postponed by mutual consent.

Even the Dominie--an ex-preacher, who had never yet set foot upon the profane floor of the saloon--appeared there that evening in search of some one so exceeding hard to find that the Dominie was compelled to make several tours of all the tables and benches in the room.

Chestnut himself, when questioned, said she had come by the way of the Isthmus with her father and mother, who had both died of the Chagres fever before reaching San Francisco--that some friends of her family and his had been trying to get her something to do in 'Frisco, and that he had engaged her at an ounce a day; and, furthermore, that he would be greatly obliged if the boys at Quicksilver wouldn't marry her before she had worked out her passage-money from 'Frisco, which he had advanced.

But the boys at Quicksilver were not so thoughtful of Chestnut's interests as they might have been. They began to buy blacking and neckties and white shirts, and to patronize the barber.

No one had any opportunity for love-making, for the lady's working hours were all spent in public, and in a business which caused frequent interruptions of even the most agreeable conversation.

It soon became understood that certain men had proposed and been declined, and betting on who would finally capture the lady was the most popular excitement in camp.

Cool-headed betting men watched closely the countenance of Sunrise (as some effusive miner had named the new cashier) as each man approached to pay in his coin or dust, and though they were intensely disgusted by its revelations, they unhesitatingly offered two to one that Dominie would be the fortunate man.

To be sure, she saw less of the Dominie than of any one else, for, though he did not drink, or pay for the liquor consumed by any one else, he occasionally came in to get a large coin changed, and then it was noticed that Sunrise regarded him with a sort of earnestness which she never exhibited toward any one else.

"Too bad!" sighed Cairo Jake. "Somebody ort to tell her that he's only a preacher, an' she'll only throw herself away ef she takes him. Ef any stranger wuz to insult her, Dominie wouldn't be man 'nuff to draw on him."

"Beats thunder, though!" sighed Redbank, "how them preachers kin take folks in. Thar's Chestnut himself, _he's_ took with Dominie--'stead of orderin' him out, he talks with him an' her just ez ef he'd as lieve get rid of her as not."

[Illustration: TOM WALKED RAPIDLY TO THE CASHIER'S DESK, AND GAVE SUNRISE SEVERAL HEARTY KISSES.]

"Boat's a-comin'!" shouted Cairo Jake, looking toward the place, half a mile below, where the creek emptied into the river. "See her smoke? Like 'nuff Tom Chafflin's on board. He wuz a-goin' to try to come back by the first boat, an' of course he's done it--jest his luck. Ef he'd only come sooner, somebody besides the preacher would hev got her--you kin just bet your bottom ounce on it. Let's go down an' see ef he's got any news."

Several miners dropped tools and pans, and followed Jake to the landing, and gave a hearty welcome to Tom Chafflin.

He certainly looked like anything but a lucky man; he was good-looking, and seemed smart, but his face wore a dismal expression, which seemed decidedly out of place on the countenance of a habitually lucky man.

"Things hain't gone right, Tom?" asked Cairo Jake.

"Never went worse," declared Tom, gloomily. "Guess I'll sell out, an'

try my luck somewheres else."

"_Ef_ you'd only come a little sooner!" sighed Jake, "you'd hev hed a chance that would hev made ev'rything seem to go right till Judgment Day. I'll show yer."

Jake opened the saloon-door, and there sat Sunrise, as bright, modest, and pleasant-looking as ever.

With the air of a man who has conferred a great benefit, and is calmly awaiting his rightful reward, Jake turned to Tom; but his expression speedily changed to one of hopeless wonder, and then to one of delight, as Tom Chafflin walked rapidly up to the cashier's desk, pushed the Dominie one side and the little scales the other, and gave Sunrise several very hearty kisses, to which the lady didn't make the slightest objection--in fact, she blushed deeply, and seemed very happy.

"That's what I went to 'Frisco to look for," explained Tom, to the staring bystander, "but I couldn't find out a word about her."

"Don't wonder yer looked glum, then," said Cairo Jake; "but--but it's jest your luck!"

"Dominie here was going down to hurry you back," said Sunrise; "but--"

"But we'll give him a different job now, my dear," said Tom, completing the sentence.

And they did.

OLD TWITCHETT'S TREASURE.

Old Twitchett was in a very bad way. He must have been in a bad way, for Crockey, the extremely mean storekeeper at Bender, had given up his own bed to Twitchett, and when Crockey was moved with sympathy for any one, it was a sure sign that the object of his commiseration was going to soon stake a perpetual claim in a distant land, whose very streets, we are told, are of precious metal, and whose walls and gates are of rare and beautiful stones.

It was Twitchett's own fault, the boys said, with much sorrowful profanity. When they abandoned Black Peter Gulch to the Chinese, and located at Bender, Twitchett should have come along with the crowd, instead of staying there by himself, in such an unsociable way. Perhaps he preferred the society of rattlesnakes and horned toads to that of high-toned, civilized beings--there was no accounting for tastes--but then he should have remembered that all the rattlesnakes in the valley couldn't have raised a single dose of quinine between them, and that the most sociable horned toad in the world, and the most obliging one, couldn't fry a sick man's pork, or make his coffee.

But, then, Twitchett was queer, they agreed--he always was queer. He kept himself so much apart from the crowd, that until to-night, when the boys were excited about him, few had ever noticed that he was a white-haired, delicate young man, instead of a decrepit old one, and that the twitching of his lips was rather touching than comical.

At any rate it was good for Twitchett that two old residents of Black Peter Gulch had, ignorant of the abandonment of the camp, revisited it, and accidentally found him insensible, yet alive, on the floor of his hut. They had taken turns in carrying him--for he was wasted and light--until they reached Crockey's store, and when they laid him down, while they should drink, the proprietor of the establishment (so said a pessimist in the camp), seeing that his presence, while he lived, and until he was buried, would attract trade and increase the demand for drinks, insisted on putting Twitchett between the proprietary blankets.

Twitchett had rallied a little, thanks to some of Crockey's best brandy, but it was evident to those who saw him that when he left Crockey's he would be entirely unconscious of the fact. Suddenly Twitchett seemed to realize as much himself, and to imagine that his exit might be made very soon, for he asked for the men who brought him in, and motioned to them to kneel beside him.

"I'm very grateful, boys, for your kindness--I wish I could reward you; but haven't got anything--I've got nothing at all. The only treasure I had I buried--buried it in the hut, when I thought I was going to die alone--I didn't wan't those heathens to touch it. I put it in a can--I wish you'd git it, and--it's a dying man's last request--take it--and--"