For their camp Mukoki had chosen a site in the edge of the cedars, and had spread dinner on a big flat rock about which the three now gathered.  For inspiration, as Wabi said, the young Indian placed the yellow nugget in the center of the improvised table, and if the enthusiasm with which they hurried through their meal counted for anything there was great merit in the golden centerpiece.  Mukoki joined the young gold seekers when they again returned to the chasm stream, and the quest of the yellow treasure was vigorously renewed in trembling and feverish expectancy.

Only those who have lived in this quest and who have pursued that elusive ignis fatuus of all nations—­the lure of gold—­can realize the sensations which stir the blood and heat the brain of the treasure seeker as he dips his pan into the sands of the stream where he believes nature has hidden her wealth.  As Roderick Drew, a child of that civilization where the dollar is law as well as might, returned to the exciting work which promised him a fortune he seemed to be in a half dream.  About him, everywhere, was gold!  For no moment did he doubt it; not for an instant did he fear that there might be no more gold in the sand and gravel from which Wabigoon’s nugget had come.  Treasure was in the very sandbar under his feet!  It was out there among the rocks, where the water beat itself angrily into sputtering froth; it was under the fall, and down in the chasm, everywhere, everywhere about him.  In one month John Ball and his companions had gathered twenty-seven pounds of it, a fortune of nearly seven thousand dollars!  And they had gathered it here!  Eagerly he scooped up a fresh pan of the precious earth.  He heard the swish-swish of the water in Wabigoon’s and Mukoki’s pans.  But beyond this there were no sounds made by them.

In these first minutes of treasure seeking no words were spoken.  Who would give the first shout of discovery?  Five minutes, ten, fifteen of them passed, and Rod found no gold.  As he emptied his pan he saw Wabi scooping up fresh dirt.  He, too, had failed.  Mukoki had waded out waist deep among the rocks.  A second and a third pan, and a little chill of disappointment cooled Rod’s blood.  Perhaps he had chosen an unlucky spot, where the gold had not settled!  He moved his position, and noticed that Wabigoon had done the same.  A fourth and a fifth pan and the result was the same.  Mukoki had waded across the stream, which was shallow below the fall, and was working on the opposite side.  A sixth pan, and Rod approached the young Indian.  The excitement was gone out of their faces.  An hour and a half—­and no more gold!

“Guess we haven’t hit the right place, after all,” said Wabi.

“It must be here,” replied Rod.  “Where there is one nugget there must be more.  Gold is heavy, and settles.  Perhaps it’s deeper down in the river bed.”