“It’s not much of a story, Mr. Rowe. Ours was placer mining. They did not dig deep into the earth for gold in those early days, you know. They took the gold from the surface, and used cradles.”
“What did the babies do without them, Mrs. Davidson?” demanded listening Weezy.
“Oh, the miners did not use the babies’ cradles, little Miss Weezy; they had cradles of their own,” interrupted Captain Bradstreet, smiling, as he helped her to fricasseed rabbit.
“Each cradle,” went on Mrs. Davidson, “had a tin pan in its upper part full of holes like a colander. The miners would shovel dirt into this pan, and then pour on water, and rock the cradle. The water would wash the dirt through the holes, and leave the bits of gold behind in the pan.”
“Wasn’t the gold good for anything, Mrs. Davidson?” asked Weezy.
“Yes, dear,”—Mrs. Davidson wiped away a smile with her napkin,—“and the miners gathered up all that was left in the pan; but gold was so plenty at that time that they did not trouble themselves to save any little pieces that might have escaped through the holes.”
“That is funny,” said Weezy.
“It was wasteful, wasn’t it, my dear? They don’t do that way nowadays. Well, every night there would be heaps of moist dirt under the cradles,—‘tailings’ they called it; and after the miners had gone home to their suppers, my brother and I used to trudge along with our iron spoons to dig in it.”
Molly laid down her knife and fork.
“How delightful, Mrs. Davidson! Did you find much gold?”