"A man may git married," retorted the Judge with judicial acumen, "and yit do suthin' else to be ashamed of, mayn't he? There's been murderers and horse thieves stretched afore now who had wives, hain't there? And the last chap the boys hung to a flume up to Redwood, he had three wives, didn't he? And they all come to the funeral." And with this triumphant vindication of his position the Judge sternly deposited half a paper of fine-cut in his mouth and started for the luxurious apartment of Mr. Copperas. Next morning Bullion Flat was in a flurry of excitement and pleasurable anticipation. The "Grand Cosmopolitan Burlesque, Ballet, and Spectacle Troupe" had arrived, and were to play in the theatre attached to the "Bella Union." It was not, however, until the succeeding afternoon that Chester Harding called upon Miss Tinsel at the same hotel. It was a good sign that that young lady crimsoned at the first sight of him; what she first said was another: "You have not been in a hurry," she pouted, "to come and see me." "I supposed you would be very busy," said he smiling, and devouring her with his eyes. "Were you so anxious to have me come?" "Anxious?" she repeated; and then added, illogically, "I supposed you would please yourself." He nodded. "And how do you like Bullion Flat?" "I think it ever so pretty--only I don't like the earth all torn up, and such ugly holes and scars." "We have to get at the gold, you know," he explained, "even at such a cost. But the hilltops, anyhow, are spared." She looked through a window and pointed at the most picturesque eminence in the neighborhood--the knoll. "That is your house?" she observed shyly. "Yes. Do you like it?" "I think it lovely--situation and all." "And how did you know it was mine?" "Oh," she said, laughing, "we show-folks see a great many people--besides being seen by them--and I've heard a lot about you." Harding's face darkened a little. "Then you've heard that I'm not much liked?" "I've heard that some say so. But what of that? Miss De Montague says she wouldn't give a fig for a man everybody speaks well of--and she quoted something from a comedy--the 'School for Scandal.'" "Will you tell me what people say?" he inquired curiously. "Oh, that you are gloomy, reserved, and live all alone, and that you are--are not extravagant, and that you haven't had a very happy life." "That last at least, if true, is a misfortune rather than a fault." "It's all misfortune, ain't it?" said the girl sagely. "People don't make themselves. There's Mr. Bellario now. He thinks nature really meant him for a great warrior--somebody like Napoleon, you know. And instead of that he's--well, he calls himself a professional gentleman, but the boys call him a tumbler. I suppose it would be much grander to kill people than to jump through 'vampire traps'; but you see he didn't get his choice--any more than I did." "Then you didn't want to go on the stage?"