One afternoon late, after they had toiled up a white, winding wash of sand and gravel, they came upon a dry waterhole.  Cameron dug deep into the sand, but without avail.  He was turning to retrace weary steps back to the last water when his comrade asked him to wait.  Cameron watched him search in his pack and bring forth what appeared to be a small, forked branch of a peach tree.  He grasped the prongs of the fork and held them before him with the end standing straight out, and then he began to walk along the stream bed.  Cameron, at first amused, then amazed, then pitying, and at last curious, kept pace with the prospector.  He saw a strong tension of his comrade’s wrists, as if he was holding hard against a considerable force.  The end of the peach branch began to quiver and turn.  Cameron reached out a hand to touch it, and was astounded at feeling a powerful vibrant force pulling the branch downward.  He felt it as a magnetic shock.  The branch kept turning, and at length pointed to the ground.

“Dig here,” said the prospector.

“What!” ejaculated Cameron.  Had the man lost his mind?

Then Cameron stood by while his comrade dug in the sand.  Three feet he dug—­four—­five, and the sand grew dark, then moist.  At six feet water began to seep through.

“Get the little basket in my pack,” he said.

Cameron complied, and saw his comrade drop the basket into the deep hole, where it kept the sides from caving in and allowed the water to seep through.  While Cameron watched, the basket filled.  Of all the strange incidents of his desert career this was the strangest.  Curiously he picked up the peach branch and held it as he had seen it held.  The thing, however, was dead in his hands.

“I see you haven’t got it,” remarked his comrade.  “Few men have.”

“Got what?” demanded Cameron.

“A power to find water that way.  Back in Illinois an old German used to do that to locate wells.  He showed me I had the same power.  I can’t explain.  But you needn’t look so dumfounded.  There’s nothing supernatural about it.”

“You mean it’s a simple fact—­that some men have a magnetism, a force or power to find water as you did?”

“Yes.  It’s not unusual on the farms back in Illinois, Ohio, Pennsylvania.  The old German I spoke of made money traveling round with his peach fork.”

“What a gift for a man in the desert!”

Cameron’s comrade smiled—­the second time in all those days.

They entered a region where mineral abounded, and their march became slower.  Generally they took the course of a wash, one on each side, and let the burros travel leisurely along nipping at the bleached blades of scant grass, or at sage or cactus, while they searched in the canyons and under the ledges for signs of gold.  When they found any rock that hinted of gold they picked off a piece and gave it a chemical test.  The search was fascinating.