in a covert, she sore afraid for me, and I laid in ambush for To-wo-bat and his men. They came, but the arch-fiend lagged behind. Ten of them passed me by, and but three returned to tell of the manner of the going of the others. Right valiantly they fought, as became better men in a more righteous quarrel, and they sorely wounded me before I dispatched them; so that I was in great pain and could no more carry Zaar. This troubled me much, but she was of good cheer because I was spared to her, and bound up my wounds and said-brave girl!—that she loved walking. And thus on the third day after the fight we came to Pasquia.

Alack! M'Garry and his men were gone. Not for myself did I care, but for the girl, whom I had hoped to bestow safely until such time as we could safely return to Elphinstone. But she took it in good heart, saying that we should rest here until I was healed of my wound, and then we would make for Pelly, where the good men of the Company lived.

Were all the men in the Company as good as I? she asked, having in her great love forgotten Red Mike, the Irish trapper. And was it true that we loved our wives after they had become old and hard-featured? She had heard, too, that when a woman was old, and could work no more, it was not the fashion of the white man to leave her on the cold trail for the wolves to make an end of. Was this so? And I swore, with another great oath, that the thing was truly said, as was most certainly the latter half. Yea,

The narrative stopped. A puff of wind swayed the branches of the gloomy forest. The young moon rising above the horizon shed a red light through the trees, and, glancing quickly up, the Factor could have sworn it was the red fire of To-wobat. The air was chilly and he shivered. "It's no feenished?" interrogated the trapper.

Seems to be. No; here it starts again on the next page."

Last night I thought I should write no more in the book. I was in great pain and crawled to a chink in the wall, through which I might see the fire of To-wo-bat. It burned brightly and was come closer; wherefore I know mine hour approaches. In the night I dreamt of Zaar. I thought she leaned over me, as a mother above her child, but when I put forth my hand she was gone, and I knew it was a dream. But I must hurry, for the gangrene hath laid a hold of my wounds and at times I grow lightheaded.

The second night of our stay at Pasquia I was ta'en of a high fever and at times wandered, knowing not even Zaar. And at

midnight there came creeping into the Fort the three that had escaped me. Zaar called to me, but I babbled on with my maunderings, knowing them not for enemies until they hacked me with their knives. The blade of one sank deep into my arm. Whether it was the bloodletting, or the sight of Zaar in the grasp of another, I know not; she had sought to throw herself between them and me, and in the struggle her robe was torn from her. But none lived to tell of her loveliness. The head of one I shattered with my fist; the second I took up by the feet and, using him clubwise, killed the third. This last rogue told us before he died that To-wo-bat lingered out in the woods having no stomach for a second encounter. They also had no liking for the work, but he made great incantation before them, and showed them a black glass wherein they could see me lying sore and helpless; and thus encouraged they came on. There remains little to tell. Zaar-something moves below

"Take a light, Sandy! I must see what is upstairs in the old house."

The trapper pulled a couple of blazing brands from the fire and followed the Factor toward the old store. The night-wind rustled gently through the trees, sighing a peaceful requiem; the door swung to and fro, uttering its melancholy groan, and in the far distance a wandering coyote raised his mournful howl. The dank smell of the rotting leaves rose in the nostrils; all was laden with the odors of decay and death.

"How did this man come by his death?" The Factor stooped over the . grotesque frame of To-wo-bat and examined it carefully. In the back of the skull stuck a triangular piece of rusted steel.

"Look here, Sandy! He was killed as he mounted the ladder."

"I reckon that wee bit of iron cam' from thees? He held up a rusted hatchet, the top corner of which was missing.

"An' 't was but a 'prentice hand that strake the blow," he added as they climbed the ladder.

The light of the torches flashed to the far corners of the old garret. There, to the right, lay that which they had come to see the last remnant of the stout Factor of Elphinstone, and beside him, her arms about the body of the man she loved, Zaar. The Factor uncovered his head, and

"T

NELL you about finding that big nugget when I was placer-mining on Scott's Bar? All right. Just sit down and make yourself comfortable and I will tell you all about it. I had been working on Scott's River two years or more. December of the year '55 found myself and partner, Jim Linsey-he is in Fort Jones, California, now--at work on Scott's Bar, on Scott's River, California. It's in Siskiyou County, about twenty miles south of the Oregon line. Our claim was a bench claim. We were on the third bench up from the river working in the old river channel.

"In 1851, old man Scott had picked up an eight-pound nugget and had given his name to the river and to the bar where he found the nugget. A man by the name of Whiting had found a large nugget in the vicinity of our claim and thereafter the miners always spoke of the place as Whiting's Hill.

VOL. XXXVI-9

"Jim and I were working about twelve or fifteen feet apart. We were removing the dirt so as to get down to bed-rock, where we would strike the yellow metal. Jim had got down to the slate-rock, which in these diggings forms the bed-rock, though in many places the bed-rock is composed of granite. I was nearly down to bed-rock myself. Possibly there was a foot or fifteen inches of earth yet to remove. My pick struck a large rock which, after some difficulty, I pried up and rolled to one side. We had a rocker and had already gotten some pretty coarse gold. I picked up my pick, anxious to get the top dirt loosened up and shoveled off. At the next stroke of my pick it encountered at the depth of a few inches something which stopped the pick, but which felt slightly yielding, as though I had struck a bar of lead. Loosening the point, I struck again about an inch from where the pick had entered before. Again I encountered the