candidate had thought fit to avail himself of his actual vote.  He
was debarred the rude heraldry of a nickname of achievement, and in
a camp made up of "Euchre Bills," "Poker Dicks," "Profane Pete,"
and "Snap-shot Harry," was known vaguely as "him," "Skeesicks," or
"that coot." It was remembered long after, with a feeling of
superstition, that he had never even met with the dignity of an
accident, nor received the fleeting honor of a chance shot meant
for somebody else in any of the liberal and broadly comprehensive
encounters which distinguished the camp.  And the inundation that
finally carried him out of it was partly anticipated by his passive
incompetency, for while the others escaped--or were drowned in
escaping--he calmly floated off on his plank without an opposing
effort. 

For all that, Elijah Martin--which was his real name--was far from
being unamiable or repellent.  That he was cowardly, untruthful,
selfish, and lazy, was undoubtedly the fact; perhaps it was his
peculiar misfortune that, just then, courage, frankness,
generosity, and activity were the dominant factors in the life of
Redwood Camp.  His submissive gentleness, his unquestioned modesty,