He closed with the remark that he was Mr .-- -- of Cariboo--a celebrated name whereat we shook in our shoes.

I would publish the name, but for the suspicion that he might come and carve me.

He finally inquired if Brown still thirsted for blood.

Brown turned the thing over in his mind a moment, and then--asked him to supper.
With the permission of the reader, I will group together, in the next chapter, some samples of life in our small mountain village in the old days of desperadoism.

I was there at the time.