The mine lay cradled between wonderful, mossy, willow-mottled mountains, while above and below the gulch was dotted with tents and huts, and everywhere, from basin to hill crest, men dug and blasted, punily, patiently, while their tracks grew daily plainer over the face of this inscrutable wilderness.

A great contentment filled the two partners as they looked on this scene.  To wrest from reluctant earth her richest treasures, to add to the wealth of the world, to create—­here was satisfaction.

“We ain’t robbin’ no widders an’ orphans doin’ it, neither,” Dextry suddenly remarked, expressing his partner’s feelings closely.  They looked at each other and smiled with that rare understanding that exceeds words.

Descending into the cut, the old man filled a gold-pan with dirt taken from under the feet of the workers, and washed it in a puddle, while the other watched his dexterous whirling motions.  When he had finished, they poked the stream of yellow grains into a pile, then, with heads together, guessed its weight, laughing again delightedly, in perfect harmony and contentment.

“I’ve been waitin’ a turrible time fer this day,” said the elder.  “I’ve suffered the plagues of prospectin’ from the Mexicos to the Circle, an’ yet I don’t begretch it none, now that I’ve struck pay.”

While they spoke, two miners struggled with a bowlder they had unearthed, and having scraped and washed it carefully, staggered back to place it on the cleaned bed-rock behind.  One of them slipped, and it crashed against a brace which held the sluices in place.  These boxes stand more than a man’s height above the bed-rock, resting on supporting posts and running full of water.  Should a sluice fall, the rushing stream carries out the gold which has lodged in the riffles and floods the bed-rock, raising havoc.  Too late the partners saw the string of boxes sway and bend at the joint.  Then, before they could reach the threatened spot to support it, Slapjack Simms, with a shriek, plunged flapping down into the cut and seized the flume.  His great height stood him in good stead now, for where the joint had opened, water poured forth in a cataract, He dived under the breach unhesitatingly and, stooping, lifted the line as near to its former level as possible, holding the entire burden upon his naked pate.  He gesticulated wildly for help, while over him poured the deluge of icy, muddy water.  It entered his gaping waistband, bulging out his yellow trousers till they were fat and full and the seams were bursting, while his yawning boot-tops became as boiling springs.  Meanwhile he chattered forth profanity in such volume that the ear ached under it as must have ached the heroic Slapjack under the chill of the melting snow.  He was relieved quickly, however, and emerged triumphant, though blue and puckered, his wilderness of whiskers streaming like limber stalactites, his boots loosely “squishing,” while oaths still poured from him in such profusion that Dextry whispered: