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Updated: June 13, 2025
We staked out our claims and left one man to hold it, while we go back to the States for supplies and better equipment. The gold's harder to get out, but it's there all right. It makes American River look like nothing at all." He turned in the saddle and looked up the little stream bed where the water lay in shallow pools below the overhanging bushes.
It's just bubbling up an' up out o' the bowels of the earth, an' an' Minky says I'll have to set up pumps an' things, an' he's goin' to help me. So is Sunny Oak, an' Toby, an' Sandy, an' he sez we'll find the gold sure if we pump the oil. Sez it's there, an' I'll be rich as Rockefeller an' all them millionaires. But I can't seem to see it, if the gold's drownded in that messy, smelly oil.
'If it had been without the words, whatever they are, said he, giving up the attempt, 'it would have been worth more, but the gold's fine, and a new stone can easily be put in. He then pulled an old hunting-card out of his pocket, and proceeded to make sundry calculations and estimates in pencil on the back.
"Powdered rocks? Who powdered them? What for?" asked Edith. "Why, the miners did it years ago. They ground up the rocks in the mine into powder just as fine as they could, and then washed the powder to get the gold out." "Oh, I see," said Edith. "So these tailings are what's left after the gold's washed out." "Yes, they brought 'em and spread 'em 'round here to get rid of 'em I suppose."
Shallow alluvial workings have a way of caving in when you least expect it of them. After all, however, I think I like the prairie farming best." "Is that exciting?" "Yes," said Wyllard, "if you do it in one way. The gold's there that you're sure of piled up by nature during I don't know how many thousand years, but you have to stake high if you want to get much of it out.
Why, in France, I've seen hill peasants mining their stream-beds for soil as our fathers mined the streams of California for gold. Only our gold's gone, and the peasants' soil remains, turning over and over, doing something, growing something, all the time. Now, I guess I'll hush." "My God!" Billy muttered in awe-stricken tones. "Our folks never done that. No wonder they lost out."
Thus his personages have a body, and awaken sympathies which would hardly attach to purely allegorical figures; a charm of livingness invests the world he has created. The Gold's home was in the Rhine, at the summit of a high, pointed rock, where it caught the beams of the sun and shed them down through the waves, brightening the dim water-world, gladdening the water-folk.
I don't suppose you remember him." "I do not remember Mr. Reuben Gold," said the little old lady, mincingly. "Is Mr. Gold a native of Heydon Hay? I do not think, from Mr. Gold's appearance, that he was born when I quitted the village. I think I recognize my old friends, the Elds," she went on, with an air almost of patronage. "This will be Mr. Isaiah? Yes! I thought so. Mr.
Poor Joseph was not accustomed to read the signs of emotion, or he might have noticed that the hand that turned the leaves trembled curiously. "What are these?" she asked. "Where are you taking them?" "These be Mr. Ezra Gold's music-books," he answered. "He's gi'en 'em to his nevew, and I'm a-wheelin' of 'em home for him. Look here see what his lordship's gi'en to me."
It's a game I know good, an' I'm going to play it for a mighty big 'jack-pot. It's up to you to hand me all I need. After that the gold's open to all." Then he detailed the various preparations to be made at once, and allotted to each man his task. He spoke sharply but without urgency. And the simplicity of his ideas saved the least confusion.
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