So they continued on down to Denver City. Denver and Auraria were separated by only the almost dry channels of Cherry Creek, and both extended along it nearly to the Platte River below, into which Cherry Creek emptied. As soon as the Hee-Haw party had pitched their camp on the outskirts of Denver, they hastened about their business. Davy and Mr. Baxter paired off to wander about. Billy and Hi and Jim undertook some errands. Left-over was wild to grab shovel and pick and pan and start right in digging and washing.
Many persons, in plain sight all up and down the creek bed, were working hard panning for gold. Some of the emigrants had begun almost before they had unharnessed their teams. And yonder, northwest, glimpses of the Platte River, flowing past both Denver and Auraria, gave glimpses also of other miners delving away.
Billy walked straight to the nearest group in the creek bed.
“How are you making it, pardner?” he asked.
“Have you fellows come for your pound a day, too?” asked the man. Even his wife was wielding a dish-pan while he shovelled.
“You bet,” assured Billy.
The woman paused, and the man laughed wearily and wiped his forehead.
“You’ll be lucky if you make fifty cents,” he said.
“Yes,” quavered the woman. “It’s awful poor picking along this creek. I expect we’re all going to starve, provisions are getting so high.”