The camp rose to its feet as one man!  It was proposed to explode a barrel of gunpowder; but in consideration of the situation of the mother, better counsels prevailed, and only a few revolvers were discharged; for whether owing to the rude surgery of the camp, or some other reason, Cherokee Sal was sinking fast.  Within an hour she had climbed, as it were, that rugged road that led to the stars, and so passed out of Roaring Camp, its sin and shame, forever.  I do not think that the announcement disturbed them much, except in speculation as to the fate of the child.  “Can he live now?” was asked of Stumpy.  The answer was doubtful.  The only other being of Cherokee Sal’s sex and maternal condition in the settlement was an ass.  There was some conjecture as to fitness, but the experiment was tried.  It was less problematical than the ancient treatment of Romulus and Remus, and apparently as successful.

When these details were completed, which exhausted another hour, the door was opened, and the anxious crowd of men, who had already formed themselves into a queue, entered in single file.  Beside the low bunk or shelf, on which the figure of the mother was starkly outlined below the blankets, stood a pine table.  On this a candle-box was placed, and within it, swathed in staring red flannel, lay the last arrival at Roaring Camp.  Beside the candle-box was placed a hat.  Its use was soon indicated.  “Gentlemen,” said Stumpy, with a singular mixture of authority and ex officio complacency,—­“gentlemen will please pass in at the front door, round the table, and out at the back door.  Them as wishes to contribute anything toward the orphan will find a hat handy.”  The first man entered with his hat on; he uncovered, however, as he looked about him, and so unconsciously set an example to the next.  In such communities good and bad actions are catching.  As the procession filed in comments were audible,—­criticisms addressed perhaps rather to Stumpy in the character of showman; “Is that him?” “Mighty small specimen;” “Has n’t more ’n got the color;” “Ain’t bigger nor a derringer.”  The contributions were as characteristic:  A silver tobacco box; a doubloon; a navy revolver, silver mounted; a gold specimen; a very beautifully embroidered lady’s handkerchief (from Oakhurst the gambler); a diamond breastpin; a diamond ring (suggested by the pin, with the remark from the giver that he “saw that pin and went two diamonds better"); a slung-shot; a Bible (contributor not detected); a golden spur; a silver teaspoon (the initials, I regret to say, were not the giver’s); a pair of surgeon’s shears; a lancet; a Bank of England note for 5 pounds; and about $200 in loose gold and silver coin.  During these proceedings Stumpy maintained a silence as impassive as the dead on his left, a gravity as inscrutable as that of the newly born on his right.  Only one incident occurred to break the monotony of the curious procession.  As Kentuck bent over the candle-box half curiously,