After
leaving
the
Sink,
we
traveled
along
the
Humboldt
river
a
little
way.
People
accustomed
to
the
monster
mile-wide Mississippi, grow accustomed
to
associating
the
term "river"
with
a high
degree
of
watery
grandeur. Consequently,
such
people
feel
rather
disappointed
when
they
stand
on
the
shores
of
the
Humboldt
or
the
Carson
and
find
that
a "river"
in
Nevada
is
a sickly
rivulet
which
is
just
the
counterpart
of
the
Erie
canal
in
all
respects save
that
the
canal
is
twice
as
long
and
four
times
as
deep.
One
of
the
pleasantest
and
most
invigorating
exercises
one
can
contrive
is
to
run
and
jump
across
the
Humboldt
river
till
he
is
overheated,
and
then
drink
it
dry.
On
the
fifteenth
day
we
completed
our
march
of
two
hundred
miles
and
entered
Unionville, Humboldt county,
in
the
midst
of
a
driving
snow- storm. Unionville
consisted
of
eleven
cabins
and
a liberty-pole.
Six
of
the
cabins
were
strung
along
one
side
of
a
deep
canyon,
and
the
other
five
faced them.
The
rest
of
the
landscape
was
made
up
of
bleak
mountain
walls
that
rose
so
high
into
the
sky
from
both
sides
of
the
canyon
that
the
village
was
left,
as
it
were,
far
down
in
the
bottom
of
a crevice.
It
was
always
daylight
on
the
mountain
tops
a
long
time
before
the
darkness
lifted
and
revealed Unionville.
We
built a small,
rude
cabin
in
the
side
of
the
crevice
and
roofed
it
with
canvas,
leaving
a
corner
open
to
serve
as
a chimney,
through
which
the
cattle
used
to
tumble occasionally,
at
night,
and
mash
our
furniture
and
interrupt
our
sleep.
It
was
very
cold
weather
and
fuel
was
scarce. Indians brought brush
and
bushes
several
miles
on
their
backs;
and
when
we
could
catch
a laden Indian
it
was
well—and
when
we
could
not
(which
was
the
rule,
not
the
exception),
we
shivered
and
bore it. I confess,
without
shame,
that
I
expected
to
find masses
of
silver
lying
all
about
the
ground. I
expected
to
see
it
glittering
in
the
sun
on
the
mountain
summits. I said
nothing
about
this,
for
some
instinct
told
me
that
I
might
possibly
have
an
exaggerated
idea
about
it,
and
so
if
I
betrayed
my
thought
I
might
bring
derision
upon
myself.
Yet
I
was
as
perfectly satisfied
in
my
own
mind
as
I
could
be
of
anything,
that
I
was
going
to
gather
up,
in
a
day
or
two,
or
at
furthest a
week
or
two,
silver
enough
to
make
me
satisfactorily wealthy—and
so
my fancy
was
already
busy
with
plans
for
spending
this
money.
The
first
opportunity
that
offered, I sauntered
carelessly
away
from
the
cabin,
keeping
an
eye
on
the
other
boys,
and
stopping
and
contemplating
the
sky
when
they
seemed
to
be
observing
me;
but
as
soon
as
the
coast
was
manifestly clear, I fled
away
as
guiltily
as
a
thief
might
have
done
and
never
halted
till
I
was
far
beyond
sight
and
call.
Then
I began my
search
with
a
feverish
excitement
that
was
brimful
of
expectation—almost
of
certainty. I
crawled
about
the
ground,
seizing
and
examining
bits
of
stone, blowing
the
dust
from
them
or
rubbing
them
on
my clothes,
and
then
peering
at
them
with
anxious
hope. Presently I found a
bright
fragment
and
my
heart
bounded! I hid
behind
a
boulder
and
polished
it
and
scrutinized
it
with
a
nervous
eagerness
and
a
delight
that
was
more
pronounced
than
absolute
certainty
itself
could
have
afforded.
The
more
I
examined
the
fragment
the
more
I
was
convinced
that
I had found
the
door
to
fortune. I
marked
the
spot
and
carried
away
my specimen.
Up
and
down
the
rugged
mountain
side
I searched,
with
always
increasing
interest
and
always
augmenting
gratitude
that
I had
come
to
Humboldt
and
come
in
time.
Of
all
the
experiences
of
my life,
this
secret
search
among
the
hidden
treasures
of
silver-land
was
the
nearest
to
unmarred ecstasy.
It
was
a delirious revel.
By
and
by,
in
the
bed
of
a
shallow
rivulet, I found a
deposit
of
shining
yellow
scales,
and
my
breath
almost
forsook me! A
gold
mine,
and
in
my
simplicity
I had been
content
with
vulgar
silver! I
was
so
excited
that
I
half
believed
my overwrought
imagination
was
deceiving
me.
Then
a
fear
came
upon
me
that
people
might
be
observing
me
and
would
guess my secret.
Moved
by
this
thought, I
made
a
circuit
of
the
place,
and
ascended
a
knoll
to
reconnoiter. Solitude.
No
creature
was
near.
Then
I
returned
to
my mine,
fortifying
myself
against
possible
disappointment,
but
my
fears
were
groundless—the
shining
scales
were
still
there. I
set
about
scooping
them
out,
and
for
an
hour
I
toiled
down
the
windings
of
the
stream
and
robbed
its
bed.
But
at
last
the
descending
sun
warned
me
to
give
up
the
quest,
and
I
turned
homeward
laden
with
wealth.
As
I walked
along
I
could
not
help
smiling
at
the
thought
of
my being
so
excited
over
my
fragment
of
silver
when
a
nobler
metal
was
almost
under
my nose.
In
this
little
time
the
former
had
so
fallen
in
my
estimation
that
once
or
twice
I
was
on
the
point
of
throwing
it
away.
The
boys
were
as
hungry
as
usual,
but
I
could
eat
nothing.
Neither
could
I talk. I
was
full
of
dreams
and
far
away.
Their
conversation
interrupted
the
flow
of
my fancy somewhat,
and
annoyed
me
a little, too. I
despised
the
sordid
and
commonplace
things
they
talked about.
But
as
they
proceeded,
it
began
to
amuse
me.
It
grew
to
be
rare
fun
to
hear
them
planning
their
poor
little
economies
and
sighing
over
possible
privations
and
distresses
when
a
gold
mine,
all
our
own,
lay
within
sight
of
the
cabin
and
I
could
point
it
out
at
any
moment.
Smothered
hilarity
began
to
oppress
me, presently.
It
was
hard
to
resist
the
impulse
to
burst
out
with
exultation
and
reveal
everything;
but
I
did
resist. I said
within
myself
that
I
would
filter
the
great
news
through
my
lips
calmly
and
be
serene
as
a
summer
morning
while
I
watched
its
effect
in
their
faces. I said: "Where
have
you
all
been?" "Prospecting." "What
did
you
find?" "Nothing." "Nothing?
What
do
you
think
of
the
country?" "Can't tell, yet," said Mr. Ballou,
who
was
an
old
gold
miner,
and
had likewise had
considerable
experience
among
the
silver
mines. "Well, haven't
you
formed
any
sort
of
opinion?" "Yes, a
sort
of
a one. It's
fair
enough
here,
may
be,
but
overrated.
Seven
thousand
dollar
ledges
are
scarce, though. "That Sheba
may
be
rich
enough,
but
we
don't
own
it;
and
besides,
the
rock
is
so
full
of
base
metals
that
all
the
science
in
the
world
can't
work
it. We'll
not
starve, here,
but
we'll
not
get
rich, I'm afraid." "So
you
think
the
prospect
is
pretty poor?" "No
name
for
it!" "Well, we'd
better
go
back, hadn't we?" "Oh,
not
yet—of
course
not. We'll
try
it
a riffle, first." "Suppose, now—this
is
merely a supposition,
you
know—suppose
you
could
find a
ledge
that
would
yield, say, a
hundred
and
fifty
dollars
a ton—would
that
satisfy
you?" "Try
us
once!"
from
the
whole
party. "Or suppose—merely a supposition,
of
course—suppose
you
were
to
find a
ledge
that
would
yield
two
thousand
dollars
a ton—would
that
satisfy
you?" "Here—what
do
you
mean?
What
are
you
coming at?
Is
there
some
mystery
behind
all
this?" "Never mind. I
am
not
saying
anything.
You
know
perfectly
well
there
are
no
rich
mines
here—of
course
you
do.
Because
you
have
been
around
and
examined
for
yourselves. Anybody
would
know
that,
that
had been around.
But
just
for
the
sake
of
argument, suppose—in a
kind
of
general
way—suppose
some
person
were
to
tell
you
that
two-thousand-dollar
ledges
were
simply contemptible—contemptible, understand—and
that
right
yonder
in
sight
of
this
very
cabin
there
were
piles
of
pure
gold
and
pure
silver—oceans
of
it—enough
to
make
you
all
rich
in
twenty-four hours! Come!" "I
should
say
he
was
as
crazy
as
a loon!" said
old
Ballou,
but
wild
with
excitement, nevertheless. "Gentlemen," said I, "I don't
say
anything—I haven't been around,
you
know,
and
of
course
don't
know
anything—but
all
I
ask
of
you
is
to
cast
your
eye
on
that,
for
instance,
and
tell
me
what
you
think
of
it!"
and
I tossed my
treasure
before
them.
There
was
an
eager
scramble
for
it,
and
a closing
of
heads
together
over
it
under
the
candle-light.
Then
old
Ballou said: "Think
of
it? I
think
it
is
nothing
but
a
lot
of
granite
rubbish
and
nasty
glittering
mica
that
isn't
worth
ten
cents
an
acre!"
So
vanished
my dream.
So
melted
my
wealth
away.
So
toppled my airy castle
to
the
earth
and
left
me
stricken
and
forlorn. Moralizing, I observed, then,
that
"all
that
glitters
is
not
gold." Mr. Ballou said I
could
go
further
than
that,
and
lay
it
up
among
my
treasures
of
knowledge,
that
nothing
that
glitters
is
gold.
So
I learned then,
once
for
all,
that
gold
in
its
native
state
is
but
dull, unornamental stuff,
and
that
only
low-born
metals
excite
the
admiration
of
the
ignorant
with
an
ostentatious glitter. However,
like
the
rest
of
the
world, I
still
go
on
underrating men
of
gold
and
glorifying
men
of
mica.
Commonplace
human
nature
cannot
rise
above
that.