Few as were the words, they conveyed to me an immense impression of his skill, who, in a few grains of sand taken at random, could distinguish the deposits of one year from those of another.
“How does it look, Halkett?” cried one.
“Is it heavy?” asked another.
“It is worthless,” said Halkett, throwing the earth from him. “But we are on the right track, lads, for all that; there 's always gold where the green snake frequents.”
It was a mystery at the time to me how Halkett knew of the serpent's vicinity; for although I looked eagerly around me, I saw no trace of one.
“I vow he's a-sarchin' for the Coppernose,” said a Yankee, as he laughed heartily at my ignorance.
“Do you see that bird there upon the bough of the cedar-tree?” said Halkett. “That's the 'Choyero;' and wherever he's found, the Coppernose is never far off.” The mystery was soon explained in this wise: the “Choyero” is in the habit of enveloping himself in the leaves of a certain prickly cactus called “Choya,” with which armor he attacks the largest of these green serpents, and always successfully,—the strong, thorny spines of the plant invariably inflicting death-wounds upon the snake. Some asserted that the bird only attacked the snake during his season of torpor, but others stoutly averred that the Choyero was a match for any Coppernose in his perfect vigor.
The approach of the long-sought-for “Placer” was celebrated by an extra allowance of rum, and the party conversed till a late hour of the night, with a degree of animation they had not exhibited for a long time previous. Stories of the “washings” resumed their sway,—strange, wild narratives, the chief interest in which, however striking at the time, lay in the manner of those who related them, and were themselves the actors. They nearly all turned upon some incident of gambling, and were strong illustrations of how completely the love of gain can co-exist with a temperament utterly wasteful and reckless, while both can render a man totally indifferent to every feeling of friendship. There was mention, by chance, of a certain Narvasque, who had been the comrade of many of the party.
“He is dead,” cried one.
“Caramba!” cried another, “that is scarcely true; they told me he was at the Austin fair this fall.”