I02 Life and Sport on the Pacific Slope 



one poor fellow, the son of a parson, who came 

 to us many years ago. He arrived with an amaz- 

 ing kit. Pistols and knives lay meekly by the 

 side of manuals of devotion. He was armed cap-a- 

 pie against the assaults of the world, the flesh, and 

 the Devil. My brother and I looked at these 

 weapons and advised the owner of them to keep 

 them, where they were, at the bottom of a port- 

 manteau. But he objected to this, being the son 

 of a man who belonged to a church militant. Then 

 we explained to him that a fight in California was a 

 very different affair to a row with an English rough. 

 It is, in fine, a combat ci outrance. At the time I 

 am writing of, if one man struck another, the blow 

 or slap was regarded generally as a deadly insult, 

 only to be wiped out with blood. The man who 

 was struck drew his pistol, if he carried one, and 

 fired instantly. If he had no pistol or knife on his 

 person, he went in search of these weapons, and, 

 further, deemed it no shame to lie in wait for his 

 antagonist, and to shoot him down like a dog when 

 he came within range. If you care to consult the 

 records, you will find dozens of cases of what 

 people in Europe wo aid pronounce cold-blooded 

 murder, in which the murderer has not only been 

 suffered to remain at large, but has won for him- 

 self the respect and esteem of the community whose 

 unwritten law he has vindicated. " It don't pay to 

 fool with that feller," is the popular verdict; "he 

 is too quick with his gun." In such cases it is 

 disgraceful to sustain defeat. I knew an Irishman 

 whose daughter had married a crack-brained fellow, 

 the terror of our district Finally, this Greek met 



