bullets enough in his body to make a pig of lead.  He was armed to the teeth.  He closed with the remark that he was Mr. ——­ of Cariboo—­a celebrated name whereat we shook in our shoes.  I would publish the name, but for the suspicion that he might come and carve me.  He finally inquired if Brown still thirsted for blood.  Brown turned the thing over in his mind a moment, and then—­asked him to supper.

With the permission of the reader, I will group together, in the next chapter, some samples of life in our small mountain village in the old days of desperadoism.  I was there at the time.  The reader will observe peculiarities in our official society; and he will observe also, an instance of how, in new countries, murders breed murders.

CHAPTER XLIX.

An extract or two from the newspapers of the day will furnish a photograph that can need no embellishment: 

Fatal shooting affray.—­An affray occurred, last evening, in a billiard saloon on C street, between Deputy Marshal Jack Williams and Wm. Brown, which resulted in the immediate death of the latter.  There had been some difficulty between the parties for several months.

      An inquest was immediately held, and the following testimony
      adduced: 

Officer GEO. Birdsall, sworn, says:—­I was told Wm. Brown was drunk and was looking for Jack Williams; so soon as I heard that I started for the parties to prevent a collision; went into the billiard saloon; saw Billy Brown running around, saying if anybody had anything against him to show cause; he was talking in a boisterous manner, and officer Perry took him to the other end of the room to talk to him; Brown came back to me; remarked to me that he thought he was as good as anybody, and knew how to take care of himself; he passed by me and went to the bar; don’t know whether he drank or not; Williams was at the end of the billiard-table, next to the stairway; Brown, after going to the bar, came back and said he was as good as any man in the world; he had then walked out to the end of the first billiard-table from the bar; I moved closer to them, supposing there would be a fight; as Brown drew his pistol I caught hold of it; he had fired one shot at Williams; don’t know the effect of it; caught hold of him with one hand, and took hold of the pistol and turned it up; think he fired once after I caught hold of the pistol; I wrenched the pistol from him; walked to the end of the billiard-table and told a party that I had Brown’s pistol, and to stop shooting; I think four shots were fired in all; after walking out, Mr. Foster remarked that Brown was shot dead.

Oh, there was no excitement about it—­he merely “remarked” the small circumstance!

Four months later the following item appeared in the same paper (the Enterprise).  In this item the name of one of the city officers above referred to (Deputy Marshal Jack Williams) occurs again: