angely enough
the gamblers left camp. In a little more than a year Old Man Bright fell
into a settled melancholia from which his millions never helped him to
the very day of his death a little more than a year later.

In the meantime, however varied the fortunes of the other mines and
prospects, the Lost Dog continued to work toward a steadily increasing
paying basis. It never reached the proportions of the Clarice, but
turned out an increasing value of dust at each clean-up. The Gaynes boys
two years before had been in debt for their groceries. Now they were
said to have shipped out something like three or four hundred thousand
dollars' worth of gold. Their friends used to wander down for the
regular clean-up, just to rejoice over the youngsters' deserved good
luck. The little five stamp-mill crunched away steadily; the water
flowed; and in the riffles the heavy gold dust accumulated.

"Why don't you-all put up a big mill, throw in a crew of men, and get
busy?" they were asked.

"I'll tell you," replied George, "it's because we know a heap sight more
about mining than we did when we came here. We have just one claim, and
from all indications it's only a pocket. The Clarice is on a genuine
lode; but we're likely to run into a 'horse' or pinch out most any
minute. When we do, it's all over but a few faint cries of fraud. And we
can empty that pocket just as well with a little jerkwater outfit like
this as we could with a big crew and a real mill. It'll take a little
longer; but we're pulling it and quick enough."

"Those Babes have more sense than we gave 'em credit for," commented
California John. "Their heads are level. They're dead right about it's
bein' a pocket. The stuff they run through there is the darndest mixture
_I_ ever see gold in."

Two months after this conversation the Babes drifted into camp to
announce that the expected pinch had come.

"We're going," said Jimmy. "We have a heap plenty dust salted away; and
there's not a colour left in the Lost Dog. The mill machinery is for
sale cheap. Any one can have the Lost Dog who wants it. We're going out
to see what makes the wheels go 'round. You boys have a first claim on
us wherever you find us. You've sure been good to us. If you catch that
spook, send us one of his tail feathers. It would be worth just twelve
thousand five hundred to us."

They sold the stamp-mill for almost nothing; packed eight animals with
heavy things they had accumulated; and d