“Mebbe, but I haven’t seen any.”
The end of their journey was reached at last, high up the creek they had followed, and, save here and there in sheltered rifts, the snow was gone; the brief summer was at hand, and clothing the stones with flowers and verdure that were most refreshing after the wintry rigours through which they had forced their way.
“Nice and free and open, eh?” said Norton, smiling. “I may as well show you to the comrades up here, and then I’ll help you pick out a decent claim, and you can set to work. There’s only about a dozen of us here yet, and so you won’t be mobbed.”
“Very well,” said Dallas; “but we’ll try in that open space where the trees are so young.”
Norton nodded, and, armed with a shovel and pan, the young men stepped to a spot about fifty feet from the edge of the rushing stream, cleared away the green growth among the young pines, and Dallas tried to drive down his shovel through the loose, gravelly soil; but the tool did not penetrate four inches.
“Why, it’s stone underneath.”
“Ice,” said Norton, smiling. “It hasn’t had time to thaw down far yet; but you skin off some of the gravelly top, and try it.”
Dallas filled the pan, and they went together to a shallow place by the side of the creek, bent down, and, with the pan just beneath the surface, agitated and stirred it, the water washing away the thick muddy portion till nothing was left but sand and stones.
These latter were picked out and thrown away; more washing followed, more little stones were thrown out, and at last there was nothing but a deposit of sand at the bottom, in which gleamed brightly some specks and scales of bright yellow gold.
Norton finished his pipe, and then led the way farther up the stream, to stop at last by a rough pine-wood shed thatched with boughs.