I knew that he was drunk; and that even if sober he would not have used a deadly weapon in a bar-room row; but although I knew this, others would tell me, that my friend's being drunk was not the fault of the man who had stabbed him; and that if he had not chosen to defend himself according to custom, he must bear the consequences. Impelled by my excited feelings, I left Stormy in the care of a miner who had come in to see him; and stepped over to the tavern, where the horrible deed had taken place. About forty people were in the bar-room when I entered. Some were seated around a table where "Monte" was being dealt, while others were standing at the bar, noisily swilling their drinks. Without making remark to any one, I listened for a few minutes to the conversation. As the affair had occurred only that afternoon, I knew that they would be talking about it in the bar-room--as in reality they were. Several men were speaking on the subject, though not disputing. There was not much difference of opinion among them. They all seemed to regard the occurrence, as I expected they would, in the same light. Two men had got into a quarrel, and then come to blows. One had stabbed the other--in California an everyday occurrence of trifling interest. That was all the bar-room loungers were disposed to make of it. I differed in opinion with them; and told them, in plain terms, that the fight they were talking about had not been a fair one, that the man who had stabbed the other had committed a crime but little less than murder. A dozen were anxious to argue with me. How could I expect a man to be called hard names in a public room without his resenting it? "But why did the man use a knife?" I asked. "Could the insult not have been resented without that?" I was told that men had no business to fight at all, if they could avoid it; but when they did, each had a right to be in earnest, and do all the harm he could to the other. I was also admonished that I had better not let "Red Ned" hear me talk as I was doing, or I might probably get served as bad as the sailor, who had offended him that same day. I thus learnt, for the first time, that the man who had wounded Stormy was "Red Ned," and from what I had heard of this ruffian already, I was not the less determined that Stormy should be avenged. I knew, moreover, that if "Red Ned" was to receive punishment, it would have to be inflicted by myself. He was not in the tavern at the time; or, perhaps, he might have received it on the instant. I returned to Stormy; and passed that night by his side. He was in great pain most part of the night. The distress of my mind at the poor fellow's sufferings, determined me to seek "Red Ned" the next morning; and, as Stormy would have said, "teach him manners." When the day broke, the wounded man was in less pain, and able to converse--though not without some difficulty.