"How much is there—I mean what is it worth?" questioned Bob.
"They say it is worth sixteen dollars an ounce," answered Mark. "I should think there was at least an eighth of an ounce there."
"Two dollars' worth of gold, just about," said Maybe Dixon, calculating with his eyes.
"It don't look it," said Si, almost in a whisper. "Why, that's fifty cents each all around!" And he gazed at the others with a grin of pleasure. "I'd have to work a whole day on the farm for that!" he added.
"Some panfuls may not be so good and some may be better," said Maybe Dixon. "In hunting for gold you've got to take what comes, every time."
They soon had another panful to wash and then half a dozen more. Mark did not remain in the water excepting when he drew up the sand and dirt. Yet it was cold labor, as he soon realized.
"This will be all right two months from now," he said. "But just now it is a little too cold."
"Thought you'd feel it," was Maybe Dixon's comment. "Don't you git cramps in your feet, or you'll have rheumatism or some other pesky thing to make you miserable."
They drew up, all told, about half an ounce of gold and then the bottom of the hollow was practically exhausted. Then they went further up the creek and tried a smaller hollow, which they scooped out by standing on some overhanging rocks. Here the first panful gave them all of a quarter of an ounce of gold.
"Four dollars' worth!" exclaimed Si. "How is that for ten minutes' work! Hurrah! Our fortunes are made!"