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Updated: May 17, 2025
So you must pay nothing for it in any form, as I wish to stand all the expense in memory of an old and tried friend. I have left Goldpan for good and all, and all those old associations of my life. I am starting over again, to make a good and clean fight, in clean surroundings. I am sick to death of all that has made up my life. I am bitter, knowing that I was handicapped from the start.
He pondered for a moment whether or not to add some note of affection, but decided that he was still under her ban, and so contented himself with the closing line: "I am following your advice. We are sinking!" He had to run, bag in hand, to catch the stage from Goldpan, and as it jolted along over the rough passes and rugged inclines had a medley of thought.
Now it's plain as a Digger Indian's trail that he didn't intend to go back the way he came, so he must have gone eastward. And if he went that way, it shows he didn't intend to hit it back toward Goldpan, but to keep on goin' over the ridge cut-off till he hit the railroad."
"Now, the best way for you to get a gang around here," he said, "is to go down to Goldpan and tell 'The Lily' you want her to pass the word, or stick a sign up in her place saying what men, and how many, you want." "Sounds like a nice name," Mathews commented. "The Lily?" questioned Dick, anxious as to who this camp character could be.
Now, after he had eaten a few mouthfuls of dinner, he rode straight over to that dugout and got the goldpan he remembered to have seen there. It was not in the best condition, of course. It was battered and bent, but it would do for the present.
Suddenly, and before any one could speak, she clenched her hands at her sides, her eyes blazed, her face twisted, and went white. "Oh," she said bitterly, in a voice low-pitched and tortured with passion, "I hate you! I hate you! You brutes of Goldpan. You gambling dogs! You purchasers of women. From this time, forever, I am done with you!"
Bill grinned and chuckled. "That's one right nice thing about minin'. You can go from Dawson to Chiapas, and a camp's a camp! Always the same. I reckon if you went up the street far enough you'd find a Miner's Home Saloon, maybe a Northern Light or two, and you can bet on there bein' a First Class." The High Light proved to be the most pretentious resort in Goldpan.
"It's for you, all right," the packer insisted. "The Wells Fargo agent turned it over to me down in Goldpan, and said the money had been sent to pay me for bringin' it up here. I don't know what it is. It's stones of some kind."
Already he was more than half-convinced that he should write to Sloan and reject his kindly offer of support. "We've been here but a week, but it doesn't look promising to us." "Well, then you're a pair of fools!" came the disrespectful and irascible retort. "They told me down in Goldpan that some miners had come to open the Cross up again. You're not miners.
She took five or six determined steps toward the ex-watchman and tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled sharply as if his mind had guilty fears, and faced her defiantly. Those immediately around, suspecting something unusual, stopped to watch them, and listened. "So you are here in Goldpan, are you, Wolff?" she demanded, with a cold sneer in her voice.
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