nd
said,--

"I might hev killed you once."

"I wish you had."

They pressed each other's hands again, but Scott's grasp was evidently
failing. He seemed to summon his energies for a special effort.

"Old man!"

"Old chap."

"Closer!"

York bent his head toward the slowly fading face.

"Do ye mind that morning?"

"Yes."

A gleam of fun slid into the corner of Scott's blue eye, as he
whispered,--

"Old man, thar WAS too much saleratus in that bread."

It is said that these were his last words. For when the sun, which had
so often gone down upon the idle wrath of these foolish men, looked
again upon them reunited, it saw the hand of Scott fall cold and
irresponsive from the yearning clasp of his former partner, and it knew
that the feud of Sandy Bar was at an end.

MR THOMPSON'S PRODIGAL

We all knew that Mr. Thompson was looking for his son, and a pretty bad
one at that. That he was coming to California for this sole object was
no secret to his fellow-passengers; and the physical peculiarities, as
well as the moral weaknesses, of the missing prodigal were made equally
plain to us through the frank volubility of the parent. "You was
speaking of a young man which was hung at Red Dog for sluice-robbing,"
said Mr. Thompson to a steerage passenger, one day; "be you aware of
the color of his eyes?" "Black," responded the passenger. "Ah," said
Mr. Thompson, referring to some mental memoranda, "Char-les's eyes was
blue." He then walked away. Perhaps it was from this unsympathetic mode
of inquiry, perhaps it was from that Western predilection to take a
humorous view of any principle or sentiment persistently brought before
them, that Mr. Thompson's quest was the subject of some satire among the
passengers. A gratuitous advertisement of the missing Charles, addressed
to "Jailers and Guardians," circulated privately among them; everybody
remembered to have met Charles under distressing circumstances. Yet
it is but due to my countrymen to state that when it was known that
Thompson had embarked some wealth in this visionary project, but little
of this satire found its way to his ears, and nothing was uttered in
his hearing that might bring a pang to a father's heart, or imperil
a possible pecuniary advantage of the satirist. Indeed, Mr. Bracy
Tibbets's jocular proposition to form a joint-stock company to
"prospect" for the missing youth received at one time quite serious
entertainment.

Perhaps to superf