A PRETTY CAMPING-GROUND. 101 



ger was assigned to me as a partner, and the stakes to be 

 played for were tobacco, lead, or powder ; in fact, any thing 

 we possessed. My antagonists were both miners from the 

 north of England, but a long time residents in the New 

 Land ; my partner a regular down-east Yankee. For some 

 time all went on straight and fair, but it was not destined 

 that such should continue. We had been euchred three 

 times in succession, when both my partner and self detect- 

 ed our opponents passing cards to each other beneath the 

 blanket that covered our knees. Hard language immedi- 

 ately ensued, knives and pistols were drawn ; but all thought 

 better of it, and peace between the belligerents was pro- 

 claimed for the night. 



On the morrow, however, we, partner and self, left the 

 old camp, and started with the intention of founding a set- 

 tlement of our own. 



Half an hour before dark we reached one of the prettiest 

 camping-grounds that the eye of wearied hunter ever rested 

 on ; and as the night was fine, we satisfied ourselves with a 

 fire, without taking the trouble to erect a wigwam of boughs. 

 Thus far I had not studied my new friend ; from his man- 

 ner on the previous evening, he undoubtedly was pluck 

 to the backbone ; not insufficiently educated, but crude 

 deucedly crude. I say this from a habit he had, namely, of 

 expectorating on whatever offered a fair surface for a shot 

 the piece of birch-bark that had been pinned up at the 

 corner to make a wash-dish ; in fact, any thing smooth he 

 could not resist squirting at. The first time he indulged 

 in this weakness was to deluge the upper of my cow-skin 

 boot. On my angrily remonstrating, lie protested that he 

 meant no insult, but simply wished to see what kind of map 

 he made. " Well, what do you make out of it ?" said I, 

 half indignant, still partially appeased. 



" Why," returned he, " a map of Asia ; and these splashes 



