his lips dry, as he helped him into the buggy, and accepted the seeming
paradox with a smile.
When Sandy Bar became convinced that the quarrel between York and Scott
could not be settled after the usual local methods, it gave no further
concern thereto. But presently it was rumored that the "Amity Claim" was
in litigation, and that its possession would be expensively disputed by
each of the partners. As it was well known that the claim in question
was "worked out" and worthless, and that the partners, whom it had
already enriched, had talked of abandoning it but a day or two before
the quarrel, this proceeding could only be accounted for as gratuitous
spite. Later, two San Francisco lawyers made their appearance in this
guileless Arcadia, and were eventually taken into the saloons, and--what
was pretty much the same thing--the confidences of the inhabitants. The
results of this unhallowed intimacy were many subpoenas; and, indeed,
when the "Amity Claim" came to trial, all of Sandy Bar that was not in
compulsory attendance at the county seat came there from curiosity. The
gulches and ditches for miles around were deserted. I do not propose to
describe that already famous trial. Enough that, in the language of the
plaintiff's counsel, "it was one of no ordinary significance, involving
the inherent rights of that untiring industry which had developed the
Pactolian resources of this golden land"; and, in the homelier phrase
of Colonel Starbottle, "A fuss that gentlemen might hev settled in ten
minutes over a social glass, ef they meant business; or in ten seconds
with a revolver, ef they meant fun." Scott got a verdict, from which
York instantly appealed. It was said that he had sworn to spend his last
dollar in the struggle.
In this way Sandy Bar began to accept the enmity of the former partners
as a lifelong feud, and the fact that they had ever been friends was
forgotten. The few who expected to learn from the trial the origin of
the quarrel were disappointed. Among the various conjectures, that
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