a smell o' gold in the hull district ag'in!"

"I move we try that other gulch on Monday," put in the doctor. "It's
full of loose sand, isn't it?" he went on to Foster Portney.

"Yes, the sand and gravel are at least two feet thick," was the answer.
"I believe there is gold there, as I said before, but to clear off the
brush and moss will be no easy task."

"We came out here for work," said Earl. "I didn't expect to sit around
and sun myself." And all laughed at this remark.

It was Sunday, and late on Saturday night a miner had been around
announcing a religious meeting to be held over at the Bottom at noon.
Mr. Portney, the boys, and the doctor walked over, nearly half a mile,
leaving the captain in charge of the camp. They found about fifty miners
collected around an improvised platform, where an earnest-looking young
man was reading a chapter from his Bible. A song by three of the women
present followed, and then came a short sermon on the brotherhood of man
and the value of a faith which would carry a man above the temptation to
do wrong, even in that desolate region. At the close of the service a
collection was taken up, for the preacher's benefit, some of the miners
giving ordinary money, and others pouring gold dust into the little
chamois bag the preacher had provided for that purpose.

At this meeting the Portneys again met the Wodley crowd, who had located
about a mile up Gold Bottom Creek, at a place called Rosebud, a name
particularly inappropriate, since no roses were to be found in the
vicinity. Wodley and his companions were doing fairly well, and thought
the "doctor's flock" might do worse than to locate just above them.

"We'll remember that," said Foster Portney. "But first we are going to
try again over where we are."

Wodley had heard again from Tom Roland and Guardley. He said the gang,
as he termed it, which they had joined had gone up Hunker Creek and
staked out three claims somewhere above Discovery, as the first claim on
a creek or gulch is called. The claims had overlapped some already
staked out, and the miners in that section had had several fights and
had threatened to drive out all the newcomers if they did not do what
was right.

"I was going over to Hunker Creek myself," concluded Wodley. "But I
don't want to quarrel with anybody."

Monday morning found the entire Portney crowd over to Tangle Gulch, as
Mr. Portney christened it. It was a name well chosen, for the tangle of
bush