,
romantic acts; for, during the burning of the Putnam House in this
town last summer, he rescued two ladies from the flames. In so doing he
scorched his left hand so seriously as to contract the tendons of two
fingers, and this very scar may lead to his apprehension. There is no
doubt about his utter desperation of character, and, if taken at all, it
will probably be not alive.

So much for the persons concerned in the tragedy at the Flat.

Herewith I inclose copies of the testimony of the witnesses examined
before the coroner's jury, together with the statement of Gillson, taken
in articulo mortis:

Deposition of Dollie Adams.

State of California, } County of Placer. } ss.

Said witness, being duly sworn, deposes as follows, to wit: My name is
Dolly Adams, my age forty-seven years; I am the wife of Frank G. Adams,
of this township, and reside on the North Fork of the American River,
below Cape Horn, on Thompson's Flat. About one o'clock p. m., May 14,
1871, I left the cabin to gather wood to cook dinner for my husband and
the hands at work for him on the claim. The trees are mostly cut away
from the bottom, and I had to climb some distance up the mountainside
before I could get enough to kindle the fire. I had gone about five
hundred yards from the cabin, and was searching for small sticks of
fallen timber, when I thought I heard some one groan, as if in pain. I
paused and listened; the groaning became more distinct, and I started
at once for the place whence the sounds proceeded; about ten steps off
I discovered the man whose remains lie there (pointing to the deceased),
sitting up, with his back against a big rock. He looked so pale that I
thought him already dead, but he continued to moan until I reached his
side. Hearing me approach, he opened his eyes, and begged me, "For God's
sake, give me a drop of water!" I asked him, "What is the matter?" He
replied, "I am shot in the back." "Dangerously?" I demanded. "Fatally!"
he faltered. Without waiting to question him further, I returned to the
cabin, told Zenie, my daughter, what I had seen, and sent her off on
a run for the men. Taking with me a gourd of water, some milk and
bread--for I thought the poor gentleman might be hungry and weak, as
well as wounded--I hurried back to his side, where I remained until
"father"--as we all call my husband--came with the men. We removed
him as gently as we could to the cabin; then sent for Dr. Liebner, and
nursed him until