ice and to
combat his partners' experience were all against his alleged process of
discovery, although the gold was actually there; and his conduct that
afternoon was certainly peculiar. He did but little of the real
work; but wandered from man to man, with suggestions, advice, and
exhortations, and the air of a superior patron. This might have been
characteristic, but mingled with it was a certain nervous anxiety and
watchfulness. He was continually scanning the stage road and the trail,
staring eagerly at any wayfarer in the distance, and at times falling
into fits of strange abstraction. At other times he would draw near to
one of his fellow partners, as if for confidential disclosure, and then
check himself and wander aimlessly away. And it was not until evening
came that the mystery was solved.

The prospecting pans had been duly washed and examined, the slope above
and below had been fully explored and tested, with a result and promise
that outran their most sanguine hopes. There was no mistaking the fact
that they had made a "big" strike. That singular gravity and reticence,
so often observed in miners at these crises, had come over them as
they sat that night for the last time around their old camp-fire on
the Eureka ledge, when Parkhurst turned impulsively to Bray. "Roll over
here," he said in a whisper. "I want to tell ye suthin!"

Bray "rolled" beyond the squatting circle, and the two men gradually
edged themselves out of hearing of the others. In the silent abstraction
that prevailed nobody noticed them.

"It's got suthin to do with this discovery," said Parkhurst, in a low,
mysterious tone, "but as far as the gold goes, and our equal rights to
it as partners, it don't affect them. If I," he continued in a slightly
patronizing, paternal tone, "choose to make you and the other boys
sharers in what seems to be a special Providence to ME, I reckon we
won't quarrel on it. It's a mighty curious, singular thing. It's one
of those things ye read about in books and don't take any stock in! But
we've got the gold--and I've got the black and white to prove it--even
if it ain't exactly human."

His voice sank so low, his manner was so impressive, that despite his
known exaggeration, Bray felt a slight thrill of superstition. Meantime
Parkhurst wiped his brow, took a folded slip of paper and a sprig of
laurel from his pocket, and drew a long breath.

"When I got to the spring this afternoon," he went on, in a nervo