The result of this jocularity was briefly given in a later copy of the Avalanche.  “An unfortunate rencounter took place on Monday last, between the Hon. Jackson Flash of the Dutch flat intelligencer and the well-known Col.  Starbottle of this place, in front of the Eureka Saloon.  Two shots were fired by the parties without injury to either, although it is said that a passing Chinaman received fifteen buckshot in the calves of his legs from the colonel’s double-barreled shotgun, which were not intended for him.  John will learn to keep out of the way of Melican man’s firearms hereafter.  The cause of the affray is not known, although it is hinted that there is a lady in the case.  The rumor that points to a well-known and beautiful poetess whose lucubrations have often graced our columns seems to gain credence from those that are posted.”

Meanwhile the passiveness displayed by Tretherick under these trying circumstances was fully appreciated in the gulches.  “The old man’s head is level,” said one long-booted philosopher.  “Ef the colonel kills Flash, Mrs. Tretherick is avenged:  if Flash drops the colonel, Tretherick is all right.  Either way, he’s got a sure thing.”  During this delicate condition of affairs, Mrs. Tretherick one day left her husband’s home and took refuge at the Fiddletown Hotel, with only the clothes she had on her back.  Here she staid for several weeks, during which period it is only justice to say that she bore herself with the strictest propriety.

It was a clear morning in early spring that Mrs. Tretherick, unattended, left the hotel, and walked down the narrow street toward the fringe of dark pines which indicated the extreme limits of Fiddletown.  The few loungers at that early hour were preoccupied with the departure of the Wingdown coach at the other extremity of the street; and Mrs. Tretherick reached the suburbs of the settlement without discomposing observation.  Here she took a cross street or road, running at right angles with the main thoroughfare of Fiddletown and passing through a belt of woodland.  It was evidently the exclusive and aristocratic avenue of the town.  The dwellings were few, ambitious, and uninterrupted by shops.  And here she was joined by Colonel Starbottle.

The gallant colonel, notwithstanding that he bore the swelling port which usually distinguished him, that his coat was tightly buttoned and his boots tightly fitting, and that his cane, hooked over his arm, swung jauntily, was not entirely at his ease.  Mrs. Tretherick, however, vouchsafed him a gracious smile and a glance of her dangerous eyes; and the colonel, with an embarrassed cough and a slight strut, took his place at her side.

“The coast is clear,” said the colonel, “and Tretherick is over at Dutch Flat on a spree.  There is no one in the house but a Chinaman; and you need fear no trouble from him.  I,” he continued, with a slight inflation of the chest that imperiled the security of his button, “I will see that you are protected in the removal of your property.”