nto the hopper and picked out a couple of stones too large to
pass through the holes in the bottom of the hopper, and, after closely
examining them to see that there was no gold clinging to their sides,
threw them away.

"But, how do you get the gold out of the cradle?" queried Bud. "It seems
to be mixed all up with a lot of heavy sand and gravel behind the
riffle-bars."

"We will show you, just as soon as we wash out this hopper full of
dirt," replied the man. "Ay, Hank?" and he turned to his companion, the
rocker.

"I reckon it is about time to make a clean up, Dave," assented Hank,
shifting the other hand to the cradle handle. "Anyhow both my arms are
about plumb tired out."

After about ten minutes of this vigorous rocking all the dirt had been
dissolved and nothing remained in the hopper except a number of stones,
too large to fall through the holes in its bottom, which had been washed
clean by the water and the shaking they had received.

"There, I calculate that will do the business," and the man addressed as
Dave, dropped the dipper, with which he had been pouring the water into
the hopper, while Hank stopped rocking the cradle and, rising to his
feet, stretched up both arms over his head with a sigh of relief.

"Say, but this gold-digging is darned hard work," and he grinned down at
the two boys.

"A darned sight harder than measuring cloth behind a counter," laughed
Dave, as he lifted the hopper off the cradle and with a quick jerk threw
the stones out of it and laid it down on the ground. "But a fellow gets
something for his hard work--that is, he does if he is lucky," he added,
as he picked up a large iron spoon from the ground near the cradle. "Now
we'll see how the gold pans out," and bending over the cradle he began
digging out the gravel and sand behind the riffle-bars with the spoon
and throwing it into a gold-pan, which Hank held.

By this time all the company, except Pedro, who had been left in charge
of the pack-horses, had gathered around the two men and were watching
the cleaning up process with the greatest interest.

"'Bout how much dew you expect she'll pan out?" queried Ham, as Dave
scraped out the last spoonful of sand and gravel and threw it into the
pan.

"Somewhere between three and four ounces," answered Dave. "At least that
is about what we usually clean out. How does she feel, Hank?" and he
turned to his partner, who was running his fingers speculatively through
the wet sand