“‘Well,’ says one of the chaps, ‘that ends our game, for you have got it all.’
“Bill shoved a stack of slugs over to them, remarking: ‘There, boys, take that to pay your expenses.’
“‘No, no; not a cent,’ one of them replied, ‘it is all yours, for you have played a straight, square game, and we will not take a dollar of it.’”
Some one enquired of Jersey if he knew what ever became of Pete, the boss liar of the Yuba? as the boys called him; Jersey replied that he was killed by a bear up in Plumas County sometime in ’54. Pete and two others were prospecting in a ravine one day, when a big grizzly came upon them from the brush; his pardners got away by climbing up a steep hill and went for assistance, but Pete had been caved upon a short time before and couldn’t run, so he and the bear had the whole circus to themselves for a while; they rescued him but ’twas too late, he was torn all to pieces. But he was true to his colors to the last, for after they had taken him to his cabin to die, almost his last words were, “well boys, I got away with one of ’em any how, and if I’d only had a fair show I’d ’er cleaned ’em both out” but when told that there was but one bear there, he answered: “Oh, yes, ther was, for didn’t yer notice lots or hair and bear’s grease scattered about on ther rocks?” the boys said they did. “Well,” says Pete with his dying breath, “that’s ther, ther tother one.”
“Ah!” continued Jersey, “but Pete was a fine talker and his persuasive eloquence was almost irresistible; he said once that his father was a life-insurance agent down in Connecticut, and that he himself had inherited a faculty for the business, and intended to follow it when he returned East.”
There was an old Irishman living on the bar at that time by the name of Pat Flynn. Pete was in his cabin one Sunday morning, and Pat wanted to trim up his long hair with a large pair of shears, but couldn’t find his piece of looking-glass. Pete said that he would go and get his own for him, so he went and found a brick, and bet the drinks with one of the boys that he would convince Pat that it was a looking-glass and that he would use it to cut his hair with. Well, it was hard work, and it took a good deal of talking to convince Pat, but after looking it all over, and turning it in his hand, he remarked, “that ’twas a quare glass but, be jabers, I’ll give it a thry, any how,” and he did; in a few moments, however, he come near clipping off one of his ears; grabbing the brick from the table, as Pete started to run he threw it at him, at the same time exclaiming, “Pete, yez are a darmed liar.” “I know it, thats my trade, Pat” says Pete as he started away, and he won the drinks.
