"Your victuals don't do you no good, Dick; you get thinner and thinner,
and folks will think as I starve you. Darned if you ain't a disgrace to
the establishment."

The wind was whistling down the gorges, and the clouds hung among the
pine-woods which still clothed the upper slopes of the hills, and the
diggers, as they turned out one morning, looked up apprehensively.

"But it could not be," they assured each other. Every one knew that the
rains were not due for another month yet; it could only be a passing
shower if it rained at all.

But as the morning went on, men came in from camps higher up the river,
and reports were current that it had been raining for the last two days
among the upper hills; while those who took the trouble to walk across
to the new channel could see for themselves at noon that it was filled
very nigh to the brim, the water rushing along with thick and turbid
current. But those who repeated the rumours, or who reported that the
channel was full, were summarily put down. Men would not believe that
such a calamity as a flood and the destruction of all their season's
work could be impending. There had been some showers, no doubt, as there
had often been before, but it was ridiculous to talk of anything like
rain a month before its time. Still, in spite of these assertions, there
was uneasiness at Pine-tree Gulch, and men looked at the driving clouds
above and shook their heads before they went down to the shafts to work
after dinner.

When the last customer had left and the bar was closed, Dick had nothing
to do till evening, and he wandered outside and sat down on a stump, at
first looking at the work going on in the valley, then so absorbed in
his own thoughts that he noticed nothing, not even the driving mist
which presently set in. He was calculating that he had, with his savings
from his wages and what had been given him by the miners, laid by eighty
dollars. When he got another hundred and twenty he would go; he would
make his way down to San Francisco, and then by ship to Panama and up to
New York, and then west again to the village where he was born. There
would be people there who would know him, and who would give him work,
for his mother's sake. He did not care what it was; anything would be
better than this.

Then his thoughts came back to Pine-tree Gulch, and he started to his
feet. Could he be mistaken? Were his eyes deceiving him? No; among the
stones and boulders of the old be