All the boys could discern, however, were some dully gleaming particles at the bottom of the pan, out of which most of the gravel had been washed with the water. They had half expected to spy nuggets. Farnum and Mr. Hampton, however, were as eagerly interested as the two old-timers.
“Try another pan, men,” suggested Mr. Hampton. “Let us go a little farther upstream.”
Once more the process was repeated. This time the pan was rich in “pay” and the excitement of the four older men mounted, hectic spots glowing dull beneath their tan in the cheeks of the two old-timers especially.
Then Dick, who was wielding the pick, attacked a clump of rocks in the edge of the stream at the very foot of the rapids, standing in his boots almost knee-deep in the water. For several minutes he picked and pried and finally, with a shout of delight, turned to his audience behind him on the bank and, having plunged an arm into the water, held it up dripping.
“Look,” was all he said.
They gazed, all eyes.
“Well! Well!” cried Art.
A small but sizable nugget lay on Dick’s outstretched palm.
“What luck,” cried Jack. “You certainly looked in the right place.”
“Bet there’s more gold around here,” cried Frank. “Maybe a bonanza. Who knows?”