They were the first words spoken.

“So am I,” replied Wabi simply, beginning to strip off his wet clothes.  “But—­” He stopped, and shrugged his shoulders.

“What?”

“Well, we’re taking it for granted that John Ball is dead.  If he is dead why isn’t he in the pool?  By George, I should think that Mukoki’s old superstition would be getting the best of him!”

“I believe he is in the pool!” declared Rod.

Wabi turned upon him and repeated the words he had spoken to the old warrior half an hour before.

“Try it!”

After the attempts of the two Indians, who could dive like otter, Rod had no inclination to follow Wabi’s invitation.  Mukoki, who had hung up a half of his clothes near the fire, was fitting one of the pans to the end of a long pole which he had cut from a sapling, and it was obvious that his intention was to begin at once the dredging of the pool for gold.  Rod joined him, and once more the excitement of treasure hunting stirred in his veins.  When the pan was on securely Wabi left the fire to join his companions, and the three returned to the pool.  With a long sweep of his improvised dredge Mukoki scooped up two quarts or more of sand and gravel and emptied it upon one of the flat rocks, and the two boys pounced upon it eagerly, raking it out with their fingers and wiping the mud and sand from every suspicious looking pebble.

“The quickest way is to wash it!” said Rod, as Mukoki dumped another load upon the rock.  “I’ll get some water!”

He ran to the camp for the remaining pans and when he turned back he saw Wabi leaping in a grotesque dance about the rock while Mukoki stood on the edge of the pool, his dredge poised over it, silent and grinning.

“What do you think of that?” cried the young Indian as Rod hurried to him.  “What do you think of that?”

He held out his hand, and in it there gleamed a third yellow nugget, fully twice as large as the one discovered by Mukoki!

Rod fairly gasped.  “The pool must be full of ’em!”

He half-filled his pan with the sand and gravel and ran knee-deep out into the running stream.  In his eagerness he splashed over a part of his material with the wash, but he, excused himself by thinking that this was his first pan, and that with the rest he would be more careful.  He began to notice now that all of the sand was not washing out, and when he saw that it persisted in lying heavy and thick among the pebbles his heart leaped into his mouth.  One more dip, and he held his pan to the light coming through the rift in the chasm.  A thousand tiny, glittering particles met his eyes!  In the center of the pan there gleamed dully a nugget of pure gold as big as a pea!  At last they had struck it rich, so rich that he trembled as he stared down into the pan, and the cry that had welled up in his throat was choked back by the swift, excited beating of his heart.  In that moment’s glance down into his treasure-laden