liest man in the entire north-west. He had,
at some unspecified time, been kicked in the face by a mule, with the
result that his features were converted into a hideous mask. He seemed
to be of a social disposition, and would have joined freely in the
conversation which went on at the saloon, but his advances were coldly
received.

Instead of pitying the man's misfortune, and avoiding all allusion to
it, the miners bluntly informed him that he was too ugly to associate
with gentlemen, and that a modest and retiring attitude was what public
sentiment required of him. Monty took the rebuff quietly, and thereafter
rarely spoke unless he was spoken to. He continued to frequent the
saloon, sitting in the darkest corner, where he smoked his pipe, drank
his solitary whisky, and answered with pathetic pleasure any remark that
might be flung at him, even when it partook of the nature of a coarse
jest at his expense.

One gloomy evening Monty entered the saloon half an hour later than
usual. It had been raining all day, and the spirits of the camp had gone
down with the barometer. The men were more than ever conscious of their
bad luck, and having only themselves to blame for persistently remaining
at Thompson's Flat, were ready to cast the guilt of their folly on the
nearest available scapegoat. Monty was accustomed to entering the room
unnoticed, but on the present occasion he saw that instead of
contemptuously ignoring his presence, the other occupants of the saloon
were unmistakably scowling at him. Scarcely had he made his timid way to
his accustomed seat when Big Simpson said in a loud voice:

"Gentlemen, have you noticed that our luck has been more particularly
low down ever since that there beauty in the corner had the cheek to
sneak in among us?"

"That's so!" exclaimed Slippery Jim. "Monty is ugly enough to spoil the
luck of a blind nigger."

"You see," continued Simpson, "thishyer beauty is like the Apostle
Jonah. While he was aboard ship there wasn't any sort of luck, and at
last the crew took and hove him overboard, and served him right. There's
a mighty lot of wisdom in the Scriptures if you only take hold of 'em in
the right way. My dad was a preacher, and I know what I'm talking
about."

"That's more than the rest of us does," retorted Slippery Jim. "We ain't
no ship's crew and Monty ain't no apostle. If you mean we ought to heave
him into the creek, why don't you say so?"

"It wouldn't do him any harm,"