So, late in June, they reached Reno; outfitted and went on again,
traveling to the north, to the green country for which they yearned,
though now they were fairly in it and would have stopped if any tempting
ledge or bar had come in their way. They prospected every gulch that
showed any mineral signs at all. It was a carefree kind of life, with
just enough of variety to hold Bud's interest to the adventuring. The
nomad in him responded easily to this leisurely pilgrimage. There was no
stampede anywhere to stir their blood with the thought of quick wealth.
There was hope enough, on the other hand, to keep them going. Cash had
prospected and trapped for more than fifteen years now, and he preached
the doctrine of freedom and the great outdoors.
Of what use was a house and lot--and taxes and trouble with the
plumbing? he would chuckle. A tent and blankets and a frying pan
and grub; two good legs and wild country to travel; a gold pan and a
pick--these things, to Cash, spelled independence and the joy of living.
The burros and the two horses were luxuries, he declared. When they once
got located on a good claim they would sell off everything but a couple
of burros--Sway and Ed, most likely. The others would bring enough for a
winter grubstake, and would prolong their freedom and their independence
just that much. That is, supposing they did not strike a good claim
before then. Cash had learned, he said, to hope high but keep an eye on
the grubstake.
Late in August they came upon a mountain village perched beside a swift
stream and walled in on three sided by pine-covered mountains. A branch
railroad linked the place more or less precariously with civilization,
and every day--unless there was a washout somewhere, or a snowslide,
or drifts too deep--a train passed over the road. One day it would go
up-stream, and the next day it would come back. And the houses stood
drawn up in a row alongside the track to watch for these passings.
Miners came in with burros or with horses, packed flour and bacon and
tea and coffee across their middles, got drunk, perhaps as a parting
ceremony, and went away into the hills. Cash watched them for a day or
so; saw the size of their grubstakes, asked few questions and listened
to a good deal of small-town gossip, and nodded his head contentedly.
There was gold in these hills. Not enough, perhaps, to start a stampede
with--but enough to keep wise old hermits burrowing after it.
So one day Bud sold the two horses and one of the saddles, and Cash
bought flour and bacon and beans and coffee, and added other things
quite as desirable but not so necessary. Then they too went away into
the hills.