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142 "A MAN FOR BREAKFAST."

at the saloon, when the man who had heard the Judge s abuse had finished reciting it.

" All right, let him," said a man, who stood stirring his liquor with a spoon, in gum-boots and with a gold- pan under his left arm. " All right, let him;" said the bearded sovereign, as he threw back his head and opened his mouth. "It s not my circus, nor won t be my funeral;" and he wiped his beard and went out saying to himself:

" Fight dog, and fight bar, Thar s no dog of mine thar."

The Prince, with that clear common-sense which always came to the surface, had foreseen the whole affair so far as the trial was concerned, and had remained at home hard at work in the claim ; I told him all that had happened, and he only shrugged his shoulders.

The next morning the butcher shouted down from the cabin as he weighed out the steaks : u A man for breakfast up in town, I say ! a man for breakfast up in town, and 111 bet you can t guess who it is."

"Who?"

"The Judge!"

The man had been stabbed to death not far from his own door, some time in the night, perhaps just before retiring. There were three distinct mortal wounds in the breast. There had evidently been a short, hard struggle for life, for in one hand he clutched a lock of somebody s hair. There was no mistake about the hair. That long, soft, silken, half