ugh he was
utterly unskilled. Now at the end of the week he was worn out, although
he stoutly maintained he was as good as ever. This high-bred, energetic
gentleman we had all come to admire, both for his unfailing courtesy and
his uncomplaining acceptance of hardships to which evidently he had
never been accustomed. Exactly why he underwent the terrible exertions
incidental to gold finding I have never quite fathomed. I do not believe
he needed money; and I never saw one of his race fond of hard physical
work. Indeed, he was the only member of his class I ever met who would
work. The truth of the matter probably lies somewhere between an
outcropping of the old adventurous _conquistadore_ spirit and the
fascination of the golden metal itself, quite apart from its
dollars-and-cents value. Unanimously we voted in Don Gaspar as camp
keeper for the first week. We wanted to give him a rest; but I do not
think we pleased him. However, he bowed to our decision with his usual
gracious courtesy. As hunting companion for Bagsby we appointed Missouri
Jones, with the understanding that every two days that office was to
have a new incumbent. Johnny, McNally, and I took charge of the dry
wash, and the rest of the party tackled the bar. Of course we
all--except Bagsby--were to share equally.

Unless the wash should prove very productive we would have the worst end
of it, for we had to carry the pay dirt down to the stream's edge. For
the purpose we used the pack-sacks--or _alforjas_, as the Spaniards
call them. Each held about sixty or seventy pounds of dirt. We found
this a sweaty and stumbly task--to stagger over the water-smoothed
boulders of the wash, out across the shingle to the edge of the stream.
There one of us dumped his burden into the cradle; and we proceeded to
wash it out. We got the "colour" at once in the residuary black sand.

All morning we laboured manfully, and discovered a brand new set of
muscles. By comparison our former toil of mere digging and washing
seemed light and pleasurable exercise.

"If this stuff don't run pretty high," grunted McNally, wiping the sweat
from his eyes, "it's me voting for the bar. We can't stand all day of
this."

He heaved the contents of his pack-sack into the cradle, and shook it
disgustedly. Suddenly his jaw dropped and his eye widened with so
poignant an expression that we both begged him, in alarm, to tell us
what was the matter.

"Now, will you look at that!" he cried.