80 THE BOSS'S STORY. 



Continuing our journey we came to a watercourse, 

 with a channel full to the brim. Anticipating diffi- 

 culty in crossing, it was decided to halt for the 

 night. Brushwood was abundant, and a few trees 

 of large growth were visible ; a promise of fuel for 

 the camp-fires that is always acceptable. 



When the day's march was over, and the labour 

 necessary to make camp snug for the night had been 

 completed, the traders assembled together, and, like 

 sailors in a forecastle, spun yarns over their pipes ; 

 many of their tales being replete with adventures 

 and romance, while their effect was seldom dimi- 

 nished by want of exaggeration. 



The second evening I was with this waggon- 

 train, the boss (i. e. the head-man), a highly educated 

 and gentlemanly person, narrated the following to 

 me and his partner. My knowledge of life and the 

 locality induces me to give the story, as a specimen 

 of those strange scenes which take place in new 

 countries, where law has not had time to establish 

 its powerful authority. The language is, of course, my 

 own, yet the story was told so cleverly and graphic- 

 ally that I fear the change will not improve it: 



1 1 had been spending a few months in the land 

 of gold, during which time I had visited the big 

 trees, Mariposa county, the mines, Sacramento in 

 fact, done almost all that was worth doing, when I 

 made up my mind to return eastward. 



' With that purpose I took passage on board the 

 " Nevada," one of the oldest of those magnificent 



