Chapter 6

“Good idea,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to go there again.”

“It’s a hike.”

“Yup, I’ve noticed that the places that take effort to get to are vacant.”

“Uh huh.” Jim suggested that it had rained several times in the past month.

Jim likes his Troop Carrier better than mine. I think the real reason is he gets to drive. I still get to buy fuel ... and beer ... and snacks ... and lunch ... and a BOOK ... for boredom on the drive.

“You’re going to miss some great scenery,” Jim said.

“We’ve been taking this route for two years, I won’t miss it,” I replied.

“It’s always different,” He said.

“I’ll check it out between chapters.”

“Western part of the state is on fire,” Jim said.

“We’re not going west,” I said.

“Yer a bit contrary,” Jim said.

“I miss her,” I said.

“Marry the girl,” Jim chuckled.

The crack was still there.

Along the hike, for the first kilometer, there was plenty of evidence diggers had been there; scratches, patches of bedrock, holes in the bank, but the farther upstream we went the diggings were fewer until they stopped altogether. No matter what anybody tells you, a little light weight firefighters water pump isn’t ... light. Two of them are downright hefty.

Petrol weighs 6 pounds a gallon. Water is eight. We packed it ... we’ll pack it out.

I set up the banker, pump and hose and passed through the crack. I grabbed the first bucket and looked around.

“The place looks different,” I said.

“It’s been a year,” Jim said.

“The holes are gone,” I said.

“It’s been raining.”

I looked up the slope. “That’s a really strange rock.”

“Looks just like a mining hopper,” Jim said.

“First break, I’m climbing up and look.”

I started packing buckets to the river sluice.

The first thing Jim noticed was the tightness of the soil in his old holes.

“I coulda sworn I took this down to bedrock,” He grunted, swinging a pick.

He said, “This is a perfect example of rain pack, and turbulence.” He picked around a little more. “Come look at this, Davy.”

The side of the hole gave a perfect profile. Light sand, then smaller pebbles, larger pebbles, water polished rocks ... and bedrock. All was mixed with tightly packed dirt.

“That looks undisturbed,” I said.

“Looked just like it did the first time.” He gave the last little bit of cover a poke with the shovel.

“Holy Shit!”

The bedrock was littered with rough gold pickers and nuggets ... hands-full of ‘em.

“A year?”

“This had to come from up there,” He pointed upslope.

The mining hopper looking rock was gone.