And the beds of the running rivers
Are lined with purest gold.
While the world is filled with sorrow
And hearts must break and bleed,
It’s day all day in the day-time,
And there is no night in Creede.
CREEDE CAMP—THE NEW FIELD—INCORPORATION OF THE AMETHYST.
AS manager of the Holy Moses, Captain Campbell employed Mr. Creede, in whom he had implicit confidence, to prospect, on a salary, with the understanding that the prospector should have one third of what was found. Creede had a world of faith in the country, and had imparted this confidence to the Captain.
An ordinary mortal would have been satisfied with thirty-five thousand dollars, but Creede’s dream had not yet been realized. The prophecy made in his last letter to his old partners had not been fulfilled. He had now enough to keep him when old age should come upon him, and laying his little fortune aside for a rainy day, he started out with the intention of wasting his grub-stake, his salary and his time.
As if he would lose all trace of the Moses vein, he passed over a low divide and began to toil up the steep, densely-wooded side of Bachelor Mountain. How many miles this man had walked in the wilds of the mountains, alone with Nature and Nature’s God! The frosts of fifty winters have touched his face and there are streaks of gray in his soft, thin hair. At his heels is the faithful dog. He, too, has seen his share of service, and is as gray as his master.