the disturbance had died out, it revealed itself distinctly as a dry creek leading back to a great mound. There were several of these, vast hulks of dark red rock pushing up from the tableland, looking as if they might be the remains of ancient cities crumbled and buried by Time beneath the desert soil. Their beetling walls and flattened tops seemed very much alike, save that one of them held enormous treasure, the path to which was the bed of the perished stream.
Harvey would not immediately test the placer.
"If it's as you was told," he said, "we'll make a better job higher up whar the colours is apt to be coarser. Thar ain't no wind ter speak of, fer drywashin'."
Perforce they curbed their impatience and trailed him until he stopped and took a shovel with a square of canvas from a burro. He carefully selected a spot and took off several shovelfuls before he made closer inspection, sifting some of the stuff through his fingers. His old eyes were alight as he dug his shovel deep and sent the contents high into the air with a twist that shot the lighter particles spraying wide, while the heavier grains pattered down on the canvas. Then all four flopped on their knees about the cloth while Harvey poked at the scattered heap.
"We've hit it," he said.
There was no need of his words. Distinct among the dirt showed grains and pellets of dull yellow, unmistakeable. Gold! Harvey hefted some of them before he passed them to Stone.
"Prime stuff," he said. "And fresh from the
