swered Ned, with a smile--"suppose that I refused to
fight, what then?"

"Why, then, you'd be called a coward all over the diggin's, and you'd
have to fight to clear your character."

"And suppose I didn't care a straw for being called a coward, and
wouldn't attempt to clear my character?"

"Why, then, I guess, I'd have to kick you in public till you were
obligated to fight."

"But suppose still further," continued Ned, assuming the air of a
philosopher discussing a profoundly-abstruse point in science--"suppose
that, being the stronger man, I should prevent you from kicking me by
knocking you down, what then?"

"Why, then, I'd be compelled to snuff you out slick off?"

Sam Scott smiled as he spoke, and touched the handle of his revolver.

"Which means," said Ned, "that you would become a cold-blooded
murderer."

"So you Britishers call it."

"And so Judge Lynch would call it, if I am not mistaken, which would
insure your being snuffed out too, pretty effectually."

"Wrong, you air, stranger," replied the trader; "Judge Lynch regards
affairs of honour in a very different light, I guess. I don't think
he'd scrag me for that."

Further investigation of this interesting topic was interrupted by Abel
Jefferson, who had been gazing in wrapt admiration at the picture for at
least five minutes, pronouncing the work "fuss rate," emphatically.

"It's jest what'll warm up the old 'ooman's heart, like a big fire in a
winter day. Won't she screech when she claps her peepers on't, an' go
yellin' round among the neighbours, shewin' the pictur' o' `her boy
Abel,' an' his house at the gold diggin's?"

The two friends commented pretty freely on the merits of the work,
without the smallest consideration for the feelings of the artist.
Fortunately they had nothing but good to say about it. Sam Scott,
indeed, objected a little to the sketchy manner in which some of the
subordinate accessories were touched in, and remarked that the two large
hairs on the mole were almost invisible; but Jefferson persisted in
maintaining that the work was "fuss rate," and faultless.

The stipulated sum was paid; and Ned, bidding his new friends
good-morning, returned to the inn, for the purpose of discussing dinner
and plans with Tom Collins.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

NED'S NEW PROFESSION PAYS ADMIRABLY--HE AND TOM WAX PHILOSOPHICAL--"PAT"
COMES FOR A "LANDSCAPE" OF HIMSELF--LYNCH LAW AND THE DOCTORS--NED'S
SITTERS--A YANKEE SWELL RECEI