nto a wide,
almost boundless stretch of comparatively level land, covered here and
there with forests so dense, that, once concealed in their recesses, it
would be exceedingly difficult if not impossible, for white men to trace
him, especially men who were so little acquainted with woodcraft as the
diggers. Besides this, the region was undulating in form, here and
there, so that from the tops of many of the eminences, he could see over
the whole land, and observe the approach of enemies without being
himself seen.

Feeling, therefore, comparatively safe, he paused in his mad flight, and
went down on hands and knees to take a long drink at a bubbling spring.
Rising, refreshed, with a deep sigh, he slowly mounted to the top of a
knoll which was bathed at the time in the first beams of the rising sun.

From the spot he obtained a view of intermingled forest, prairie, lake,
and river, so resplendent that even _his_ mind was for a moment diverted
from its gloomy introspections, and a glance of admiration shot from his
eyes and chased the wrinkles from his brow; but the frown quickly
returned, and the glorious landscape was forgotten as the thought of his
dreadful condition returned with overwhelming power.

Up to that day Tom Brixton, with all his faults, had kept within the
circle of the world's laws. He had been well trained in boyhood, and,
with the approval of his mother, had left England for the Oregon
goldfields in company with a steady, well-principled friend, who had
been a playmate in early childhood and at school. The two friends had
experienced during three years the varying fortune of a digger's life;
sometimes working for long periods successfully, and gradually
increasing their "pile;" at other times toiling day after day for
nothing and living on their capital, but on the whole, making what men
called a good thing of it until Tom took to gambling, which, almost as a
matter of course, led to drinking. The process of demoralisation had
continued until, as we have seen, the boundary line was at last
overstepped, and he had become a thief and an outlaw.

At that period and in those diggings Judge Lynch--in other words,
off-hand and speedy "justice" by the community of miners--was the order
of the day, and, as stealing had become exasperatingly common, the
penalty appointed was death, the judges being, in most cases, the prompt
executioners.

Tom Brixton knew well what his fate would be if captured, and th