Mr. Oakhurst was right in supposing that he was included in this category. A few of the committee had urged hanging him as a possible example and a sure method of reimbursing themselves from his pockets of the sums he had won from them. “It`s agin justice,” said Jim Wheeler, “to let this yer young man from Roaring Camp an entire ranger carry away our money.” But a crude sentiment of equity residing in the breasts of those who had been fortunate enough to win horn Mr. Oakhurst overruled this narrower local prejudice.
Mr. Oakhurst received his sentence with philosophic calmness, none lie less coolly that he was aware of the hesitation of his judges. He was too much of a gambler not to accept fate. With him life was at best an uncertain game, and he recognized the usual percentage in livor of the dealer.
Uncle Billy
A body of armed men accompanied the deported wickedness of I`oker Flat to the outskirts of the settlement. Besides Mr. Oakhurst, who was known to be a coolly desperate man, and for whose intimidation lie armed escort was intended, the expatriated party consisted of young woman familiarly known as “The Duchess”; another who bad won the title of “Mother Shipton”; and “Uncle Billy,” a suspected sluice-robber and confirmed drunkard. The cavalcade provoked no comments from the spectators, nor was any word uttered by the escort.
Only when the gulch which marked the uttermost limit of Poker Flat was reached, the leader spoke briefly and to the point. The exiles were forbidden to return at the peril of their lives.
As the escort disappeared, their pent-up feelings found vent in a few hysterical tears from the Duchess, some bad language from Mother Shipton, and a Parthian volley of expletives from Uncle Billy. The philosophic Oakhurst alone remained silent. He listened calmly to Mother Shipto»`s desire to cut somebody`s heart out, to the repeated statements of The Duchess that she would die in the road, and to the alarming oaths that seemed to be bumped out of Uncle Billy as he rode forward.
With the easy good humor characteristic of his class, he insisted upon exchanging his own riding-horse, “Five-spot,” for the sorry mule which Duchess rode. But even this act did not draw the party into any closer sympathy. The young woman readjusted her somewhat draggled plumes with a feeble, faded coquetry; Mother Shipton eyed the possessor of “Five-spot” with malevolence, and Uncle Billy included the whole party in one sweeping anathema.
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