“All the surface diggings are taken up,” our friend told us. “So now you have to dig deep. It’s about four feet down where I’m working. It’ll probably be deeper up here. You’d better move back where you were.”
Yank, stretched himself upright.
“Look here,” he said decidedly; “let’s get a little sense into ourselves. Here’s our pore old hosses standing with their packs on, and we no place to stay, and no dinner; and we’re scratchin’ away at this bar like a lot of fool hens. There’s other days comin’.”
Johnny and I agreed with the common sense of the thing, but reluctantly. Now that we knew how, our enthusiasm surged up again. We wanted to get at it. The stranger’s eyes twinkled sympathetically.
“Here, boys,” said he, “I know just how you feel. Come with me.”
He snatched up our bucket and strode back to his 161 own claim, where he filled the receptacle with some of the earth he had thrown out.
“Go pan that,” he advised us kindly.
We raced to the water, and once more stirred about the heavy contents of the pail until they had floated off with the water. In the bottom lay a fine black residue; and in that residue glittered the tiny yellow particles. We had actually panned our first gold!
Our friend examined it critically.
“That’s about a twelve-cent pan,” he adjudged it.