to loggerheads one night for no
reason apparently, save that each had a high reputation for courage,
and neither could find a worthier antagonist. In the nick of time Rablay
appeared; he seemed to understand the situation at a glance, and broke
in:

"See here, boys. I'll settle this. They're disputin'--I know they are.
Want to decide with bullets whether 'Frisco or Denver's the finest city.
'Frisco's bigger and older, says Crocker; Harrison maintains Denver's
better laid out. Crocker replies in his quiet way that 'Frisco ain't
dead yet" Good temper being now re-established, Rablay went on: "I'll
decide this matter right off. Crocker and Harrison shall set up drinks
for the crowd till we're all laid out. And I'll tell a story," and he
began a tale which cannot be retold here, but which delighted the boys
as much by its salaciousness as by its vivacity.

Lawyer Rablay was to Garotte what novels, theatres, churches, concerts
are to more favoured cities; in fact, for some six months, he and
his stories constituted the chief humanizing influence in the camp.
Deputations were often despatched from Doolan's to bring Rablay to the
bar. The miners got up "cases" in order to give him work. More than once
both parties in a dispute, real or imaginary, engaged him, despite his
protestations, as attorney, and afterwards the boys insisted that,
being advocate for both sides, he was well fitted to decide the issue
as judge. He had not been a month in Garotte before he was christened
Judge, and every question, whether of claim-boundaries, the suitability
of a nickname, or the value of "dust," was submitted for his decision.
It cannot be asserted that his enviable position was due either to
perfect impartiality or to infallible wisdom. But every one knew that
his judgments would be informed by shrewd sense and good-humour,
and would be followed by a story, and woe betide the disputant
whose perversity deferred that pleasure. So Garotte became a sort of
theocracy, with Judge Rablay as ruler. And yet he was, perhaps, the
only man in the community whose courage had never been tested or even
considered.

One afternoon a man came to Garotte, who had a widespread reputation.
His name was Bill Hitchcock. A marvellous shot, a first-rate
poker-player, a good rider--these virtues were outweighed by his
desperate temper. Though not more than five-and-twenty years of age
his courage and ferocity had made him a marked man. He was said to have
kil