A man of that mixed character which united the qualities of a gambler, a skilful pugilist, and an honest, straightforward miner in his single person, known only as “Dutch Fred,” at this time enjoyed a local notoriety in Florence which had won for him among his comrades the appellation of “Chief.” He was neither a rowdy nor desperado, and in ordinary deal, honest and generous; but he gambled, drank, and when roused, was a perfect Hercules in a fight. Helm, having been plied with liquor, at the request of an enemy of Fred’s sought him out for the purpose of provoking a fight. Entering the saloon where Fred was seated at a faro table, Helm, with many oaths and epithets and flourishes of his revolver, challenged Fred to an immediate deadly combat. Fred sprung up, drew his knife, and was advancing to close with the drunken braggart, when the by-standers interfered, and deprived both of their weapons, which they entrusted to the keeping of the saloon-keeper, and Fred returned quietly to his game. Helm apologized, and expressed regret for his conduct, and left the saloon. A few hours afterwards he returned. Fred was still there. Stepping up to the saloon-keeper, Helm asked for his revolver, promising that he would immediately depart and make no disturbance. No sooner was it returned to him than he turned towards Fred, and uttering a diabolical oath, fired at him while seated at the table. The ball missed, and before the second fire, Fred, unarmed, with his arms folded across his breast, stood before his antagonist, who, with deadlier aim, pierced his heart. He fell dead upon the spot. Helm cocked his pistol, and looking towards the stupefied crowd, exclaimed, “Maybe some more of you want some of this!” As no one deigned a reply, he walked coolly away. If Helm was arrested for this murder, he escaped; for the next we hear of him, he was captured on Frazer River in the Fall of 1862, as will appear from the following extract from a British Columbia paper: “The man, Boone Helm, to whom we referred some weeks since, has at last been taken. He was brought into this city last night strongly ironed. The first clue of the detectives was the report that two men had been seen trudging up the Frazer River on foot, with their blankets and a scanty supply of provisions on their backs. The description of one corresponded with the description given by the American officers of Boone Helm. Helm’s conduct on the road is conclusive evidence that he was aware he was being pursued. He passed around the more populous settlements, or through them in the night time. When overtaken, he was so exhausted by fatigue and hunger that it would have been impossible for him to continue many hours longer. He made no resistance to the arrest,—in fact, he was too weak to do so,—and acknowledged without equivocation or attempt at evasion that he was Boone Helm. Upon being asked what had become of his companion, he replied with the utmost _sang froid_: