FIRST DAY IN THE MINES. 
78 
much as we thought it prudent to have at any one time; I stop¬ 
ped digging but my heart kept on. The heat was most intense, 
the perspiration gushing from every pore. Bent was in a fever 
of excitement. He was naturally of a sandy complexion, but 
now his face added a deeper tinge to his red flannel ,shirt collar. 
Our reward was in our machine, and after putting in several 
dippers of water we raised the screen. It did not look as we 
expected it would; there was any quantity of dirt and some 
gold. 
We were not altogether satisfied with the result; still, we 
had just commenced, and, perhaps, were not sufficiently near 
the granite. Our “lead” was the best one on the bar—we 
knew by the looks of it—and the next twenty buckets must 
show a different result. Our ambition was again up, and our 
machine in motion, and, if possible, with increased energy. 
After running through several buckets of dirt, we raised the 
screen. There was not much gold on the top, but there was 
some; and we worked on, thinking that we had not yet reached 
the best part of our lead. I noticed that after raising the screen, 
the machine was rocked with less energy; and it seemed to add to 
the weight of my pick-axe. We resolved to visit the General. 
They had done a fine morning’s work, and were in high spirits. 
They told us of many who had opened “ leads,” and worked 
them two or three days without success, when some one else 
would step in, and make a fortune the first day. This was 
precisely our -case. We had got our “lead” almost opened, 
and if we should step out, some one would step in, and get the 
fortune. * This we were not disposed to do. We had got on 
track, and were determined not to give way to any one. We 
looked up, but there was no one in our “ lead.” On our way 
back we discovered many natural advantages that our “lead” 
had over the General’s, and an even exchange would have been 
to us no object. 
Our machine was again in motion. The sun had now almost 
gained the meridian. The heat was excessive. Bent’s red 
flannel was outside of his pantaloons, dripping with perspira¬ 
tion. My blue one was in the same condition. I would think 
of those abandoned “ leads,” and wish I had two buckets. He 
would think of them, flourish his dipper, and rock the machine, 
