t try any tricks on me."

The widow's eyes were equally keen, and the growing cupidity of the men
did not escape her. Coming out with a big meat sandwich, she said:
"'Twill not do to sit down, Sherm; take this in yer fist and go. They'll
all be slippin' away like snakes if ye don't. I'll take John and the
ore--we'll make it somehow--and I'll stay wid it till it's paid for."

She was right. The miners were struggling with the demons of desire and
ready to stampede at any moment. Hastily packing his mule, Bidwell
started up the trail, saying:

"Fall in behind me, boys, and don't scrouge. The man who tries to crowd
me off the trail will regret it."

They were quiet enough till he left the trail and started down toward
the Bear. Then Johnson cried, "I know where it is!" and plunged with a
whoop into the thicket of willows that bordered the creek.

"Mebbe he does and mebbe he don't," said Clark. "I'm going to stick by
Bid till we get the lay o' the land."

They maintained fairly good order until Bidwell's trail became a plain
line leading up the hillside; then the stampede began. With wild halloos
and resounding thwacking of mules they scattered out, raced over the
hilltop, and disappeared, leaving Bidwell to plod on with his laden
burro.

When he came in sight of his mine men were hammering stakes into the
ground on all sides of the discovery claim, and Clark and Johnson were
in a loud wrangle as to who reached the spot first. Leading his mule up
to the cliff wall where he had built a shelter, Bidwell unpacked his
outfit, and as he stood his rifle against a rock he said:

"I'm planted right here, neighbors. My roots run deep underground, and
the man who tries to jump this claim will land in the middle of hell
fire--now, that's right."

Their claims once staked and their loud differences stilled, the men had
leisure to come and examine the discovery claim.

"You've the best of it," said Cantor, an old miner. "There may not be an
ounce of gold outside your vein. It's a curious formation; I can't tell
how it runs."

Toward night the other miners left and went back to camp, leaving
Bidwell alone. As darkness came on he grew nervous again. "They'd kill
me if they dared," he muttered, as he crouched in his shelter, his gun
on his knee. He was very sleepy, but resolved not to close his eyes. "If
I only had a dog--some one I could trust; but I haven't a soul," he
added, bitterly, as his weakness grew. The curse of gold