"It will ache, until you get used to digging," said Si, who was not bothered that way. Bob felt a little stiff, but Mark suffered the most by far.
The next morning they went out again, this time taking to a small creek that flowed into the river. They followed the creek for nearly half a mile, when they came to something of a hollow, surrounded by rocks and filled with sand.
"That sand ought to have something in it," declared Maybe Dixon. "But if we want it, we'll have to wade in and git it,—and it's putty cold as yet."
"I'll go in," said Mark. "I always took cold baths when I was at home, and I shan't mind it so very much."
He took off his shoes and stockings, rolled up his trousers, and waded in. The sand was loose and he easily scooped up a panful, which he handed to Bob, who proceeded to the washing. Soon they got to the bottom, where only a little coarse sand remained, mixed with specks of a dull coppery color.
"There's your gold!" cried Maybe Dixon. "Told you it would be there!"
"Is that really gold?" asked Si, doubtfully.
"To be sure it is, my boy."
"I thought gold was always shiny, like a gold ring or a watch."
"Not always. Some of it has to be cleaned."