s man; but Sunday is a good day to quit. I
propose we go back to camp peaceable, make a decent place to stay, cook
ourselves up a squar' meal, wash out our clothes, visit the next camp,
take a look at town, and enjoy ourselves."

Thus vanished the first and most wonderful romance of the gold. Reduced
to wages it was somehow no longer so marvellous. The element of
uncertainty was always there, to be sure; and an inexplicable
fascination; but no longer had we any desire to dig up the whole place
immediately. I suppose we moved nearly as much earth, but the fibres of
our minds were relaxed, and we did it more easily and with less nervous
wear and tear.

Also, as Yank suggested, we took pains to search out our fellow beings.
The camper below us proved to be Don Gaspar, velvet breeches and all. He
received us hospitably, and proffered perfumed cigarettos which we did
not like, but which we smoked out of politeness. Our common ground of
meeting was at first the natural one of the gold diggings. Don Gaspar
and his man, whom he called Vasquez, had produced somewhat less flake
gold than ourselves, but exhibited a half-ounce nugget and several
smaller lumps. We could not make him out. Neither his appearance nor his
personal equipment suggested necessity; and yet he laboured as hard as
the rest of us. His gaudy costume was splashed and grimy with the red
mud, although evidently he had made some attempt to brush it. The linen
was, of course, hopeless. He showed us the blisters on his small
aristocratic-looking hands.

"It is the hard work" he stated simply, "but one gets the gold."

From that subject we passed on to horses. He confessed that he was
uneasy as to the safety of his own magnificent animals; and succeeded in
alarming us as to our own.

"Thos' Indian," he told us, "are always out to essteal; and the
_paisanos_. It has been tole me that Andreas Amijo and his robbers
are near. Some day we loose our horse!"

Our anxiety at this time was given an edge by the fact that the horses,
having fed well, and becoming tired of the same place, were inclined to
stray. It was impossible to keep them always on picket lines--the nature
of the meadow would not permit it--and they soon learned to be very
clever with their hobbles. Several mornings we put in an hour or so
hunting them up and bringing them in before we could start work for the
day. This wasted both time and temper. The result was that we drifted
into partnership with D