cut wood, and get breakfast, do you? I'll
swap jobs if you want to, but getting the mules includes watering them
at the creek, of course."

"Oh, yes, of course," echoed Smithson in a surly voice.

"You better get a move on or I'll have breakfast cooked and eaten before
you get 'round to anything. You needn't suppose I'm going to do your
work and mine, too," was the impatient rejoinder of Roberts as he swung
his axe hard into a stick of wet wood he was cutting.

Smithson shuffled off up the bluff in search of the animals, which, when
found, were treated in no very kindly manner by the sour faced,
mosquito-bitten and generally disgusted tenderfoot, whose introduction
into this new world was, apparently, taking all good-nature out of him.

The mules made no resistance and were soon poking their noses into the
creek waters where Smithson had led them. When he returned to camp
expecting to find a smoking breakfast awaiting him, he was disappointed.
Looking about for Roberts he saw him against the face of the cliff
nearly half way to its top.

"Smithson, come here quick," called Roberts in a voice trembling with
excitement.

"I won't do it! I want my breakfast. What are you doing? Picking wild
flowers, I suppose. How're we goin' to get along without grub, I'd like
to know. Come down, I say!"

Roberts appeared to be working industriously. Finally he rose from his
stooping position, and motioning to his partner, called out in a low
tone:

"Come quick, man, or you'll be sorry! Never mind breakfast; you can eat
that any day; but you don't see this sight often."

With that Smithson ambled over to the foot of the cliff.

"What is it?" he inquired crossly.

"Catch this bit of rock and look at it," said Roberts in a low, excited
voice, dropping a small white fragment at the feet of the other.

"By Jove! Roberts, it carries gold!"

"Shut your mouth! Don't tell the men on the trail! These hills have ears
and plenty of 'em. Come up here quick, but first bring a pick and hammer
from the packs."

With that the dilatory fellow forgot his hunger, his mosquito-bitten
hands and face, and in less than two minutes was climbing up the cliff
with the tools.

He found his partner looking well pleased but perspiring. As Smithson
joined him he sat down on the rock and mopped his face with his red
bandana.

"What made you come up here?" asked Smithson, "I thought you were
gettin' the grub."

"So I was, but I had no dry wood, a