A PLOT FOR A NOVELIST.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 2533, 17 February 1877, Page 4

A PLOT FOR A NOVELIST.

An Ataetican paper has taken the trouble out of a real incident that' occurred in the district to sketch out the plot of a tale, which it considers would be very effective if treated in the style ot

Bret Harte. We extract the denouement:—" The gambler provokes a quarrel with the meek-eyed bummer. A pistol fight ensues. Here the amateur can literally ' throw himself.' He can get a scene of confusion and carnape that might rival the famous fight of Giigal, • where they piled the dead outside the door by cords,' and in which the ' short sharp bark of the Derringer' was heard ' sounding the knell of departingsouls.' The gambler is victorious, and ' iSandy ' stretches himself cut on the floor prepara tory to dying in orthodox California romantic fashion. ' Short-Card Bill' mounts his horse, and in company with 'Cherokee Sal,' who has relented,, departs from that vicinity for ever. In the meantime the life-blood Blowly oozes from the left side of 'Sandy.' Apparently the bummer's minutes are numbered. The only physician in the place is called, and the following ' realistic conversation ensues :■— 4 Doc, old pard, what's the chances ?' •Slim, Sandy, d d slim.' 'Has she gone, Doc ?' A world of pathos burdens these words of the dying man. Yes, Sandy, she's gone. Tears swell up in s the eyes of the bystanders —eyes that had not known tears since they last gazed upon the well-worn strap that hung beside the paternal fire place. ' Gone and left me; gone, gone, gone.' A pause and a silence in the •Howling Wilderness' that was tomb-like in its solemnity, 'How much longer Doc, ken I hang on ?' ' Just two minutes and three-quarters,' said the doctor, grasping the hand of the dying man. A convulsive shudder passes throngh the frarmj of the almost defunct bummer. Then, raising himself on his elbow with a mighty effort, he throws one arm, round the neck of the doctor, and, in pathetic tones, exclaims,( Kiss me, Doc, kiss me. I've nothing more to live for now that Sal's gone. Kiss me, Doc, kiss me,' Another pause. 'Time up, Doc ?' continues the dying man. ' Time's up,' replies the doctor. ' About time you were dead. More questions. The bummer tries to die, but does not succeed. Finally he gets up, and, going to the bar, sententiously remarks,' Come, boys, let's licker.' ' The ' boys' licker. The mystery being explained, it appears that the bullet glanced round * Sandy's' ribs, and came out near his vertebrae, instead of going straight through him as it should have done. The man lives, much to the physician's disappointment. This magnificent plot is offered to the aspiring amateur free of charge."