Mebby Billy meant for me to get a new one. Well,
the constable's friend only put one hole in her--she's a pretty good hat
yet."
* * * * *
Overland found his slow way back to the hidden canon. He felt a little
lonely as he thought of Collie. He gave the burro some scraps of camp
bread, knowing that the little animal would not stray so long as he was
fed, even a little, each day.
It was while he was scouring the fry-pan that he noticed the black sand
across the stream. Leisurely he rose and scooped a panful of the sand
and gravel and began washing it, more as a pastime than with an idea of
finding gold. Slowly he oscillated the whispering sand, slopping the
water out until he had panned the lot. He spread his bandanna on a
smooth rock and gently emptied the residue of the washing on it.
"Color--but thin," he said. "Let's try her again."
He moved farther upstream--this time with one of his regular pans. He
became absorbed in his experiment. He washed panful after panful,
slowly, carefully, collectedly. Suddenly he stood up, swore softly, and
flung the half-washed dirt of the last pan on the rocks. "I'm a nut!"
he exclaimed. "This livin' in civilization has been puttin' my intellec'
to the bad.
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