yaller gold spangling them sands, and running in veins through
them rocks, and yaller gold in pockets of the rock."

"Then, let's call it Yaller Gulch," I says.

"Done, old hoss!" says Hez; and Yaller Gulch it is.

We set to work next day washing in the bit of a stream, and shook hands
on our luck.

"This'll do," says Hez. "We shall make a pile here. No one won't dream
of hunting this out."

"Say, stranger!" says a voice, as made us both jump. "Do it wash well?"

And if there warn't a long, lean, ugly, yaller-looking chap looking down
at us, as he stood holding a mule by the bridle.

Why, afore a week was over, so far from us keeping it snug, I reckon
there was fifty people in Yaller Gulch, washing away, and making their
piles. Afore another week as over some one had set up a store, and next
day there was a gambling saloon. Keep it to ourselves! Why, stranger,
I reckon if there was a speck of gold anywheres within five hundred
miles, our chaps'd sniff it out like vultures, and be down upon it.

It warn't no use to grumble, and we kept what we thought to ourselves,
working away, and making our ounces the best way we could. One day I
proposed we should go up higher in the mountains; but Hez said he'd be
darned if he'd move; and next day, if he'd wanted me to go, I should
have told him I'd be darned if I'd move; and all at once, from being
red-hot chums, as would have done anything for one another, Hez and me
got to be mortal enemies.

Now, look here, stranger. Did you ever keep chickens? P'r'aps not; but
if you ever do, just you notice this. You've got, say, a dozen young
cocks pecking about, and as happy as can be--smart and lively, an'
innercent as chickens should be. Now, jist you go and drop a pretty
young pullet in among 'em, and see if there won't be a row. Why, afore
night there'll be combs bleeding, eyes knocked out, feathers torn and
ragged--a reg'lar pepper-box and bowie set-to, and all acause of that
little smooth, brown pullet, that looks on so quiet and gentle as if
wondering who made the row.

Now, that's what was the matter with us; for who should come into the
Gulch one day, but an old storekeeping sort of fellow, with as pretty a
daughter as ever stepped, and from that moment it was all over between
Hez and me.

He'd got a way with him, you see, as I hadn't; and they always made him
welkim at that thar store, when it was only "How do you do?" and
"Good-morning," to me. I don't k