CHAPTER XXII

THE STRIKE

We awoke next morning to a bright day. The helmeted quail were calling;
the bees were just beginning a sun-warmed hum among the bushes; a
languorous warmth hung in the air, and a Sunday stillness. It was as
though we awakened to a new world, untrodden by men; which was, indeed,
a good deal the case.

While we ate breakfast we discussed our plans. The first necessity, of
course, was to find out about gold. To that end we agreed to separate
for the day, prospecting far and wide. Bagsby kept camp, and an eye on
the horses. He displayed little interest in the gold proposition; but
insisted strongly that we should carry both our rifles and revolvers.

It would be difficult to describe the thrill of anticipation with which
I set off up the valley. The place was so new, so untouched, so
absolutely unknown. The high ridges on either side frowned down
austerely on the little meadows that smiled back quite unabashed. As I
crossed the brown dry meadow toward the river a covey of quail whirred
away before me, lit, and paced off at a great rate. Two big grouse
roared from a thicket.

The river was a beautiful, clear stream, with green wavery water
whirling darkly in pools, or breaking white among the stones. As my
shadow fell upon it, I caught a glimpse of a big trout scurrying into
the darkness beneath a boulder. Picking my way among the loose stones I
selected a likely place on the bar and struck home my pick.

I have since repeated the sensations of that day--on a smaller scale of
course--in whipping untried trout waters; same early excitement and
enthusiasm, same eager sustained persistence in face of failure, same
incredulous slowing down, same ultimate discouragement, disbelief and
disgust. All that day I shovelled and panned. The early morning
freshness soon dissipated. Between the high mountain walls the heat
reflected. All the quail stood beneath the shade of bushes, their beaks
half open as though panting. The birds that had sung so sweetly in the
early morning had somewhere sought repose. I could occasionally catch
glimpses of our horses dozing under trees. Even the chirping insects
were still. As far as I could make out I was the only living thing
foolish enough to stay abroad and awake in that suffocating heat. The
sweat dripped from me in streams; my eyes ached from the glare of the
sun on the rocks and the bleached grasses. Toward the close of the
afternoon I confessed snea