heir pistols, a committee was
appointed to conduct them at least two miles from camp, before allowing
them to shoot.

The Sundays were allowed to pass in the commonplace quietness peculiar
to the rest of the week, and men who were unable to forego their regular
weekly spree were compelled to emigrate. Sim Ripson, though admitting
that the change was decidedly injurious to his business, declared that
he would cheerfully be ruined in business rather than have that woman
disturbed; he was ever heard to say that, though of course there was no
such place as heaven, there _ought_ to be, for such woman.

One evening, as the crowd were quietly drinking and betting, Arkansas
Bill suddenly opened the door of the store, and cried: "She's mendin'!
The fever's broke--'sh-h!"

"My treat, boys," said Sim Ripson, hurrying glasses and favorite bottles
on the bar.

The boys were just clinking glasses with Blizzer himself, who, during
his wife's absence and illness, had drifted back to the store, when
Arkansas Bill again opened the door.

"She's a-sinkin', all of a sudden!" he gasped. "Blizzer, yer wanted."

The two men hurried away, and the crowd poured out of the store. By the
light of a fire in front of the hut in which the sick woman lay, they
saw Blizzer enter, and Arkansas Bill remain outside the hut, near the
door.

The boys stood on one foot, put their hands into their pockets and took
them out again, snapped their fingers, and looked at each other, as if
they wanted to talk about something that they couldn't. Suddenly the
doctor emerged from the hut, and said something to Arkansas Bill, and
the boys saw Arkansas Bill put both hands up to his face. Then the boys
knew that their sympathy could help Blizzer's wife no longer.

Slowly the crowd re-entered the store, and mechanically picked up the
yet untasted glasses. Sim Ripson filled a glass for himself, looked a
second at the crowd, and dropping his eyes, raised them again, looked as
if he had something to say, looked intently into his glass, as if
espying some irregularity, looked up again, and exclaimed:

"Boys, it's no use--mebbe ther's no hell--mebbe the Bible contradicts
itself, but--but ther _is_ a heaven, or such folks would never git their
just dues. Here's to Blizzer's wife, the best man in camp, an' may the
Lord send us somebody like her!"

In silence, and with uncovered heads, was the toast drank; and for many
days did the boys mourn for her whose advent brou