urs with you?" he inquired.

"I have; and if you have patience enough to sit here for half-an-hour
I'll sketch it. If not, take a stroll, and you'll find me here when you
return."

"I can admire nature for even longer than that period, but I cannot
consent to watch a sketcher of nature even for five minutes, so I'll
take a stroll."

In a few minutes Ned, with book on knee and pencil in hand, was busily
engaged in transferring the scene to paper, oblivious of gold, and
prospects, and everything else, and utterly ignorant of the fact that
the Yankee digger, having become curious as to what the stranger could
be about, had quitted his hole, and now stood behind him quietly looking
over his shoulder.

The sketch was a very beautiful one, for, in addition to the varied
character of the scenery and the noble background of the Sierra Nevada,
which here presented some of its wildest and most fantastic outlines,
the half-ruined hut of the Yankee, with the tools and other articles
scattered around it, formed a picturesque foreground. We have elsewhere
remarked that our hero was a good draughtsman. In particular, he had a
fine eye for colour, and always, when possible, made coloured sketches
during his travels in California. On the present occasion, the rich
warm glow of sunset was admirably given, and the Yankee stood gazing at
the work, transfixed with amazement and delight. Ned first became aware
of his proximity by the somewhat startling exclamation, uttered close to
his ear--

"Wall, stranger, you _air_ a screamer, that's a fact!"

"I presume you mean that for a compliment," said Ned, looking up with a
smile at the tall, wiry, sun-burnt, red-flannel-shirted, straw-hatted
creature that leaned on his pick-axe beside him.

"No, I don't; I ain't used to butter nobody. I guess you've bin raised
to that sort o' thing?"

"No, I merely practise it as an amateur," answered Ned, resuming his
work.

"Now, that is cur'ous," continued the Yankee; "an' I'm kinder sorry to
hear't, for if ye was purfessional I'd give ye an order."

Ned almost laughed outright at this remark, but he checked himself as
the idea flashed across him that he might perhaps make his pencil useful
in present circumstances.

"I'm not professional as yet," he said, gravely; "but I have no
objection to become so if art is encouraged in these diggings."

"I guess it will be, if you shew yer work. Now, what'll ye ax for that
bit!"

This was a home