road had turned into a morass beyond belief or
description.

Our first intimation of a definite seasonal change came from our old
friend Danny Randall, who hailed us at once when he saw us picking our
way gingerly along the edge of the street. In answer to his summons we
entered the Bella Union.

"I hope you boys weren't quite drowned out," he greeted us. "You don't
look particularly careworn."

We exchanged the appropriate comments; then Danny came at once to
business.

"Now I'm going to pay off you three boys," he told the express
messengers, "and I want to know what you want. I can give you the dust,
or I can give you an order on a San Francisco firm, just as you choose."

"Express business busted?" asked Johnny.

"It's quit for the season," Danny Randall told him, "like everything
else. In two weeks at most there won't be a score of men left in Italian
Bar." He observed our astonished incredulity, smiled, and continued:
"You boys came from the East, where it rains and gets over it. But out
here it doesn't get over it. Have you been down to look at the river?
No? Well, you'd better take a look. There'll be no more bar mining done
there for a while. And what's a mining camp without mining? Go talk to
the men of '48. They'll tell you. The season is over, boys, until next
spring; and you may just as well make up your minds to hike out now as
later. What are you laughing at?" he asked Johnny.

"I was just thinking of our big Vigilante organization," he chuckled.

"I suppose it's true that mighty few of the same lot will ever get back
to Italian Bar," agreed Danny, "but it's a good thing for whatever
community they may hit next year."

Johnny and Old elected to take their wages in dust; Cal decided on the
order against the San Francisco firm. Then we wandered down to where we
could overlook the bar itself.

The entire bed of the river was filled from rim to rim with a rolling
brown flood. The bars, sand-spits, gravel-banks had all disappeared.
Whole trees bobbed and sank and raised skeleton arms or tangled roots as
they were swept along by the current or caught back by the eddies; and
underneath the roar of the waters we heard the dull rumbling and
crunching of boulders rolled beneath the flood. A crowd of men was
watching in idle curiosity. We learned that all the cradles and most of
the tools had been lost; and heard rumours of cabins or camps located
too low having been swept away.

That evening we held a