ooked long and earnestly into his
face, nodded approvingly once or twice, and, having tucked the blankets
gently in round the sick man, he proceeded to prepare supper. He
removed just enough of the deer's skin to permit of a choice morsel
being cut out; this he put into the pot, and made thereof a rich and
savoury soup, which he tasted; and, if smacking one's lips and tasting
it again twice, indicated anything, the soup was good. But Ned Sinton
did not eat it. That was Tom's supper, and was put just near enough the
fire to keep it warm.

This being done, Ned cut out another choice morsel of deer's-meat, which
he roasted and ate, as only those can eat who are well, and young, and
robust, and in the heart of the wilderness. Then he filled his pipe,
sat down close to Tom's couch, placed his back against a tree, crossed
his arms on his breast, and smoked and watched the whole night long.

He rose gently several times during the night, however, partly for the
purpose of battling off his tendency to sleep, and partly for the
purpose of replenishing the fire and keeping the soup warm.

But Tom Collins took no supper that night. Ned longed very much to see
him awake, but he didn't. Towards morning, Ned managed for some time to
fight against sleep, by entering into a close and philosophical
speculation, as to what was the precise hour at which that pot of soup
could not properly be called supper, but would merge into breakfast.
This question still remained unsettled in his mind when grey dawn lit up
the peaks of the eastern hills, and he was still debating it, and
nodding like a Chinese mandarin, and staring at intervals like a
confused owl, when the sun shot over the tree-tops, and, alighting
softly on the sleeper's face, aroused him.

Tom awoke refreshed, ate his breakfast with relish, took his medicine
without grumbling, smiled on his comrade, and squeezed his hand as he
went to sleep again with a heavy sigh of comfort. From that hour he
mended rapidly, and in a week after he was well enough to resume his
journey.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

POWERFUL EFFECTS OF GOLD ON THE ASPECT OF THINGS IN GENERAL--THE DOINGS
AT LITTLE CREEK DIGGINGS--LARRY BECOMES SPECULATIVE, AND DIGS A HOLE
WHICH NEARLY PROVES THE GRAVE OF MANY MINERS--CAPTAIN BUNTING TAKES A
FEARFUL DIVE--AH-WOW IS SMITTEN TO THE EARTH--A MYSTERIOUS LETTER, AND A
SPLENDID DISH.

We must now beg our reader to turn with us to another scene.

The appearance