softly to himself as he
began making preparations for dinner. Choosing a point where the
current had swept up a small bar of pebbles and sand Wabi and Rod both
set to work. The white youth had never before panned gold, but he
had been told how it was done, and there now shot through him that
strange, thrilling excitement which enthralls the treasure hunter
when he believes that at last he has struck pay dirt. Scooping up a
quantity of the gravel and sand he filled his pan with water, then
moved it, quickly back and forth, every few moments splashing some of
the "wash" or muddy water, over the side. Thus, filling and refilling
his pan with fresh water, he excitedly went through the process of
"washing" everything but solid substance out of it.

With each fresh dip into the stream the water in the pan became
clearer, and within fifteen minutes the three or four double handfuls
of sand and gravel with which he began work dwindled down to one.
Scarcely breathing in his eagerness he watched for the yellow gleam of
gold. Once a glitter among the pebbles drew a low cry from him, but
when with the point of his knife he found it to be only mica he was
glad that Wabi had not heard him. The young Indian was squatting upon
the sand, with his pan turned toward a gleam of the sun that shot
faintly down into the chasm. Without raising his head he called to
Rod.

"Found anything?"

"No. Have you?"

"No--yes--but I don't think it's gold"

"What does it look like?"

"It gleams yellow but is as hard as steel."

"Mica!" said Rod.

Neither of the boys looked up during the conversation. With the point
of his hunting-knife Rod still searched in the bottom of his pan,
turning over the pebbles and raking the gravelly sand with a
painstaking care that would have made a veteran gold seeker laugh.
Some minutes had passed when Wabi spoke again.

"I say, Rod, that's a funny-looking thing I found! If it wasn't so
hard I'd swear it was gold? Want to see it?"

"It's mica," repeated Rod, as another gleam, of "fool's gold" in his
own pan caught his eyes. "The stream is full of it!"

"Never saw mica in chunks before," mumbled Wabi, bending low over his
pan.

"Chunks!" cried Rod, straightening as if some one had run a pin into
his back. "How big is it?"

"Big as a pea--a big pea!"

The words were no sooner out of the young Indian's mouth than Roderick
was upon his feet and running to his companion.

"Mica doesn't come in chunks! Where