“Well, there it is,” exclaimed McTeague.  “Look on ahead there; ain’t that quartz?”

“You’re shouting right out loud,” vociferated Cribbens, looking where McTeague was pointing.  His face went suddenly pale.  He turned to the dentist, his eyes wide.

“By God, pardner,” he exclaimed, breathlessly.  “By God—­” he broke off abruptly.

“That’s what you been looking for, ain’t it?” asked the dentist.

“Looking for!  Looking for!” Cribbens checked himself.  “That’s slate all right, and that’s granodiorite, I know”—­he bent down and examined the rock—­“and here’s the quartz between ’em; there can’t be no mistake about that.  Gi’ me that hammer,” he cried, excitedly.  “Come on, git to work.  Jab into the quartz with your pick; git out some chunks of it.”  Cribbens went down on his hands and knees, attacking the quartz vein furiously.  The dentist followed his example, swinging his pick with enormous force, splintering the rocks at every stroke.  Cribbens was talking to himself in his excitement.

“Got you this time, you son of a gun!  By God!  I guess we got you this time, at last.  Looks like it, anyhow.  Get a move on, pardner.  There ain’t anybody ’round, is there?  Hey?” Without looking, he drew his revolver and threw it to the dentist.  “Take the gun an’ look around, pardner.  If you see any son of a gun anywhere, plug him.  This yere’s our claim.  I guess we got it this tide, pardner.  Come on.”  He gathered up the chunks of quartz he had broken out, and put them in his hat and started towards their camp.  The two went along with great strides, hurrying as fast as they could over the uneven ground.

“I don’ know,” exclaimed Cribbens, breathlessly, “I don’ want to say too much.  Maybe we’re fooled.  Lord, that damn camp’s a long ways off.  Oh, I ain’t goin’ to fool along this way.  Come on, pardner.”  He broke into a run.  McTeague followed at a lumbering gallop.  Over the scorched, parched ground, stumbling and tripping over sage-brush and sharp-pointed rocks, under the palpitating heat of the desert sun, they ran and scrambled, carrying the quartz lumps in their hats.

“See any ‘color’ in it, pardner?” gasped Cribbens.  “I can’t, can you?  ’Twouldn’t be visible nohow, I guess.  Hurry up.  Lord, we ain’t ever going to get to that camp.”

Finally they arrived.  Cribbens dumped the quartz fragments into a pan.

“You pestle her, pardner, an’ I’ll fix the scales.”  McTeague ground the lumps to fine dust in the iron mortar while Cribbens set up the tiny scales and got out the “spoons” from their outfit.

“That’s fine enough,” Cribbens exclaimed, impatiently.  “Now we’ll spoon her.  Gi’ me the water.”

Cribbens scooped up a spoonful of the fine white powder and began to spoon it carefully.  The two were on their hands and knees upon the ground, their heads close together, still panting with excitement and the exertion of their run.