roused up,
and gave me good-day. I told him a friend of mine had commissioned me to
make some inquiries about a cherished companion of his boyhood named
_Leonidas W._ Smiley--_Rev. Leonidas W._ Smiley, a young minister of the
Gospel, who he had heard was at one time a resident of Angel's Camp. I
added that if Mr. Wheeler could tell me anything about this Rev.
Leonidas W. Smiley, I would feel under many obligations to him.

Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his
chair, and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous narrative which
follows this paragraph. He never smiled, he never frowned, he never
changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key to which he tuned his
initial sentence, he never betrayed the slightest suspicion of
enthusiasm; but all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein
of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed me plainly that,
so far from his imagining that there was anything ridiculous or funny
about his story, he regarded it as a really important matter, and
admired its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in _finesse_. I
let him go on in his own way, and never interrupted him once.

"Rev. Leonidas W. H'm, Reverend Le--well, there was a feller here once
by the name of _Jim_ Smiley, in the winter of '49--or maybe it was the
spring of '50--I don't recollect exactly, somehow, though what makes me
think it was one or the other is because I remember the big flume warn't
finished when he first came to the camp; but anyway, he was the
curiosest man about always betting on anything that turned up you ever
see, if he could get anybody to bet on the other side, and if he
couldn't he'd change sides. Any way what suited the other man would suit
_him_--any way just so's he got a bet, _he_ was satisfied. But still he
was lucky, uncommon lucky; he 'most always come out winner. He was
always ready and laying for a chance; there couldn't be no solit'ry
thing mentioned but that feller'd offer to bet on it, and take ary side
you please, as I was just telling you. If there was a horse-race, you'd
find him flush or you'd find him busted at the end of it; if there was a
dog-fight, he'd bet on it; if there was a cat-fight, he'd bet on it; if
there was a chicken-fight, he'd bet on it; why, if there was two birds
sitting on a fence, he would bet you which one would fly first; or if
there was a camp-meeting, he would be there reg'lar to bet on Parson
Walker, which he