were more than trebled, and that evening the directors of the
"R'yal Bank o' Calyforny" found themselves in possession of capital
amounting to one thousand one hundred and fifty dollars, or, as Tom
Collins carefully explained to Bill, about 230 pounds.

On the sixth day, however, which was Saturday, Larry O'Neil, who was
permitted to work with the pan in the meantime, instead of assisting
with the cradles, came up to dinner with a less hearty aspect than
usual, and at suppertime he returned with a terribly lugubrious visage
and a totally empty bag. In fact his claim had become suddenly
unproductive.

"Look at that," he cried, swaggering recklessly into camp, and throwing
down his bag; "I haven't got a rap; faix the bag's as empty as my
intarior."

"What! have you worked out your claim already!" inquired Maxton.

"Troth have I, and almost worked out me own body too."

"Well, Larry, don't lose heart," said Ned, as he dried the last panful
of sand over the fire, "there are plenty more claims beside your present
one. We, too, have not been as successful as before. I find the result
is only fifty dollars amongst us all."

"That's a sudden falling off," remarked Tom Collins; "I fear the
`pay-dirt' is not deep near us, nevertheless it pays well enough to keep
us going for some time to come. I shall mark off a new space on
Monday."

"By the way, Maxton," asked Ned, handing over the frying-pan to Collins,
who soon filled it with a less valuable, but at that time not less
needful commodity than gold-dust--namely, pork and beef--"how do the
miners spend the Sabbath here? I suppose not much better than in the
cities."

"Here comes McLeod, who will be better able to answer than I am,"
replied Maxton.

The Scot strode into the camp as he spoke, and, saluting the party,
seated himself beside the fire.

"I've come to tell you a piece of news, and to ask advice," he said;
"but before doing so, I may tell you, in answer to your question, that
the Sabbath here is devoted to drinking, gambling, and loafing about."

"I am not surprised to hear it," said Captain Bunting; "but pray what's
i' the wind? Any new diggin's discovered?"

"A new digging certainly has been discovered," replied McLeod, with a
peculiar smile, "but not precisely such a digging as one is wont to
search for. The fact is, that in prospecting along the edge of the
woods about a mile from this to-day, I came upon the body of a murdered
man. It was co