e
been the agonized utterance of that murdered man. It was highly
characteristic of that camp--and, indeed, of others in California--that
nobody, not even the ingenious theorists themselves, believed their
story, and that no one took the slightest pains to verify or disprove
it. Happily, Uncle Billy never knew it, and moved all unconsciously in
this 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 through 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 Bigg'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 fr