However, Mark hungered and
thirsted to find a big rich pocket, and he pitched in after the
manner of Joe Bowers of old--just like a thousand of brick.
"Each step made sure by the finding of golden grains, they at last
came upon the pocket whence these grains had trailed out down the
slope of the mountain. It was a cold, dreary drizzling day when
the 'home deposit' was found. The first sample of dirt carried to
the stream and washed out yielded only a few cents. Although the
right vein had been discovered, they had as yet found only the tail
end of the pocket.
"Returning to the vein, they dug a sample of the decomposed ore
from a new place, and were about to carry it down to the ravine and
test it, when the rain increased to a lively downpour."
Mark was chilled to the bone, and refused to carry another pail of
water. In slow, drawling tones he protested decisively:
"Jim, I won't carry any more water.
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