is atmosphere of burlesque
suspicion. And then a singular change took place in the attitude of the
camp towards him and the disrupted partnership. Hitherto, for no reason
whatever, all had agreed to put the blame upon Billy--possibly because
he was present to receive it. As days passed that slight reticence and
dejection in his manner, which they had at first attributed to remorse
and a guilty conscience, now began to tell as absurdly in his favor.
Here was poor Uncle Billy toiling though the ditches, while his selfish
partner was lolling in the lap of luxury in San Francisco! Uncle Billy's
glowing accounts of Uncle Jim's success only contributed to the sympathy
now fully given in his behalf and their execration of the absconding
partner. It was proposed at Biggs's store that a letter expressing the
indignation of the camp over his heartless conduct to his late partner,
William Fall, should be forwarded to him. Condolences were offered to
Uncle Billy, and uncouth attempts were made to cheer his loneliness. A
procession of half a dozen men twice a week to his cabin, carrying their
own whiskey and winding up with a "stag dance" before the premises, was
sufficient to lighten his eclipsed gayety and remind him of a happier
past. "Surprise" working parties visited his claim with spasmodic essays
towards helping him, and great good humor and hilarity prevailed. It was
not an unusual thing for an honest miner to arise from an idle gathering
in some cabin and excuse himself with the remark that he "reckoned he'd
put in an hour's work in Uncle Billy's tailings!" And yet, as before, it
was very improbable if any of these reckless benefactors REALLY believed
in their own earnestness or in the gravity of the situation. Indeed, a
kind of hopeful cynicism ran through their performances. "Like as not,
Uncle Billy is still in 'cahoots' [i. e., shares] with his old pard, and
is just laughin' at us as he's sendin' him accounts of our tomfoolin'."

And so the winter passed and the rains, and the days of cloudless skies
and chill starlit nights began. There were still freshets from the snow
reservoirs piled high in the Sierran passes, and the Bar was flooded,
but that passed too, and only the sunshine remained. Monotonous as the
seasons were, there was a faint movement in the camp with the stirring
of the sap in the pines and cedars. And then, one day, there was a
strange excitement on the Bar. Men were seen running hither and thither,
but