THE PROSPECTOR 25

about it yet! I went mad! I laughed! I
cried! I howled! There wasn’t an ache left
inmy bones. I forgot that my knees knocked
from weakness and that we had not had a bite
for twenty-four hours. I yelled at Old Sandy
to wake the dead. He came crawling over
the ledge and peeked down. ‘‘ What’s the
matter?’’ says he. ‘Matter,’ I yelled. ‘“Wake
up, you old son of a gun; we are millionaires!”
There, sticking right out of the rock, was the
ledge where ‘float’? had been breaking and
washing for hundreds of years; so you see,
only eleven days from the time we were going
to give up, we made our find. That mine paid
from the first load of ore sent out by pack-
horses.’

Other mines were found in a less spectacular
way. The ‘float’ lost itself in a rounded
knoll in the lap of a dozen peaks; and the
miners had to decide which of the benches to

tunnel. They might have to bring the stream ~

from miles distant to sluice out the gravel;
and the largest nuggets might not be found
till hundreds of feet had been washed out ;
but always the ‘ float,’ the pebbles, the specks
that shone in the sun, lured them with pro-
mise. Even for those who found no mine the
search was not without reward. There was