ted to the dirty, shiny deposit in the bottom
of the pan, and briefly remarked:

"Thar 'tis, marm."

"Oh!" screamed Miss Brown, with delight; "is that really gold-dust?"

"That's it," said Toledo. "I'll jest put it up fur yer, so yer ken
kerry it."

"Oh, no," said Miss Brown, "I couldn't think of it--it isn't mine."

"You washed it out, marm, an' that makes a full title in these parts."

All of the traditional honesty of New England came into Miss Brown's
face in an instant; and, although she, Yankee-like, estimated the value
of the dust, and sighingly thought how much easier it was to win gold in
that way than by forcing ideas into stupid little heads, she firmly
declined the gold, and bade the crowd a smiling good-day.

"Did yer see them little fingers uv hern a-holdin' out that pan?--did
yer see her, fellers?" inquired an excited miner.

"Yes, an' the way she made that dirt git, ez though she was useder to
washin' than wallopin'," said another.

"Wallopin'!" echoed a staid miner. "I'd gie my claim, an' throw in my
pile to boot, to be a young 'un an' git walloped by them playthings of
han's."

"Jest see how she throwed dirt an' water on them boots," said another,
extending an enormous ugly boot. "Them boots ain't fur sale now--them
ain't."

"Them be durned!" contemptuously exclaimed another. "She tramped right
on my toes as she backed out uv the crowd."

Every one looked jealously at the last speaker, and a grim old fellow
suggested that the aforesaid individual had obtained a trampled foot by
fraud, and that each man in camp had, consequently, a right to demand
satisfaction of him.

But the judge decided that he of the trampled foot was right, and that
any miner who wouldn't take such a chance, whether fraudulently or
otherwise, hadn't the spirit of a man in him.

Yankee Sam, the shortest man in camp, withdrew from the crowd, and paced
the banks of the creek, lost in thought. Within half an hour Sam was
owner of the only store in the place, had doubled the prices of all
articles of clothing contained therein, and increased at least six-fold
the price of all the white shirts.

Next day the sun rose on Bottle Flat in his usual conservative and
impassive manner. Had he respected the dramatic proprieties, he would
have appeared with astonished face and uplifted hands, for seldom had a
whole community changed so completely in a single night.

Uncle Hans, the only German in the camp, had spent the prece