Don't it make you sick ?" He pointed out evidences of an abandoned prospector's camp just before them--charred ashes, empty tin cans, one or two gold-miner's pans, and a broken pick.

"Don't that make you sick ?" muttered Cribbens, sucking his mustache furiously.

"To think of us mushheads going over ground that's been covered already! Say, pardner, we'll dig out of here to-morrow.
I've been thinking, anyhow, we'd better move to the south; that water of ours is pretty low." "Yes, yes, I guess so," assented the dentist.

"There ain't any gold here." "Yes, there is," protested Cribbens doggedly; "there's gold all through these hills, if we could only strike it.

I tell you what, pardner, I got a place in mind where I'll bet no one ain't prospected--least not very many.