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The summer wore on, and Paquita remained with us, an industrious, lovely little girl. She was the pet of the camp. She dressed with taste, and was modest, sensitive, intelligent, and beautiful. It was noticeable that men who lived in that vicinity dressed much more neatly than in any other part of the camp, and even men who had to pass that way to reach The Forks kept their shaggy beards in shape, and their shirt bosoms buttoned up when they passed. Such is the influence of even the presence of woman.

Klamat was wild as ever. The miners would suppose him spending his nights with us, and we would suppose him still with them, and thus he had it all his own way, wandered off with his club and knife into the hills, down to the river, and slept Heaven knows where.

At last one Sunday the Prince taught him the use of the rifle. This was to him perhaps the greatest event of his life. He danced with delight, made all sorts of signs about the game he would kill, and how much he would do for the Prince. He was faithful to his word. He began to repay something of his trouble. He brought game to the Prince and to us in abundance, but refused to let any one else have so much as a quail.

Once the Prince gave a shoulder of venison to some neighbour boys below us. Klamat went down when the men were at work, took the axe, broke open the door, and took and threw the meat over the bank into the claim. This made him natural enemies, and