towered up. It was not accident that
made Sandy, or the Parson either, a head man in the Forks.

The Forks knew just how sterling, and how solid, and how sincere he was.
No flattery here. There was not a penny to win by it. No applause to
care for here. No public opinion to appease or woo. If a man did not
like the company at the Howling Wilderness he need not put in an
appearance. He could stay at home, lord of his castle, toil three
hundred and sixty-five days in the year, and no man would question him
or doubt his motives.

Nor was it any accident that made Limber Tim the partner of Sandy. These
things have a deeper root than men suppose. Sandy was the strongest man
in the camp, Limber Tim was the weakest. Nothing in nature was more
natural than their present relation.

It is as remarkable as it is true, that wild beasts, even when the
sexes, more decent than men, are divided from each other, mate thus. The
strong bear or the strong buck companions with the weak.

This Sandy never blustered or asserted himself at all. He was born above
most men of his class, and he stood at their head boldly without
knowing it. Had he been born an Indian he would have been a chief, would
have led in battle, and dictated in council, without question or without
opposition from any one. Had he been born in the old time of kings he
would have put out his hand, taken a crown, and worn it as a man wears
the most fitting garment, by instinct.

Sandy was born King of the Forks. He was king already, without knowing
it or caring to rule it.

There are people just like that in the world, you know,--great, silent,
fearless fellows, or at least there are in the Sierra-world, and they
are as good as they are great. They are there, throned there, filling up
more of the world than any ten thousand of those feeble things that God
sent into the world, in mercy to the poor good men who sit all day
silent, and cross-legged, and in nine parts, sewing, on a table.

They will not go higher, they can not go lower. They accept the
authority as if they had inherited through a thousand sires.

CHAPTER IX.

"THAT BOY" IS ILL.

How that courtship got on, or where and when Sandy first opened his
lips, nobody ever knew. At first he took Limber Tim with him. But really
Limber was so awkward in the presence of ladies, or at least so thought
Sandy to himself, that he was ashamed of him.

It was a great relief to Sandy, if he had only known enoug