Desert Gold | Page 5

suspect that he might have missed something in the others. In his
own driving passion to take his secret into the limitless abode of silence
and desolation, where he could be alone with it, he had forgotten that
life dealt shocks to other men. Somehow this silent comrade reminded
him.
One afternoon late, after they had toiled up a white, winding wash of
sand and gravel, they came upon a dry waterhole. Cameron dug deep
into the sand, but without avail. He was turning to retrace weary steps
back to the last water when his comrade asked him to wait. Cameron
watched him search in his pack and bring forth what appeared to be a
small, forked branch of a peach tree. He grasped the prongs of the fork
and held them before him with the end standing straight out, and then
he began to walk along the stream bed. Cameron, at first amused, then
amazed, then pitying, and at last curious, kept pace with the prospector.
He saw a strong tension of his comrade's wrists, as if he was holding
hard against a considerable force. The end of the peach branch began to
quiver and turn. Cameron reached out a hand to touch it, and was
astounded at feeling a powerful vibrant force pulling the branch
downward. He felt it as a magnetic shock. The branch kept turning, and
at length pointed to the ground.
"Dig here," said the prospector.
"What!" ejaculated Cameron. Had the man lost his mind?
Then Cameron stood by while his comrade dug in the sand. Three feet
he dug--four--five, and the sand grew dark, then moist. At six feet
water began to seep through.
"Get the little basket in my pack," he said.
Cameron complied, and saw his comrade drop the basket into the deep
hole, where it kept the sides from caving in and allowed the water to
seep through. While Cameron watched, the basket filled. Of all the
strange incidents of his desert career this was the strangest. Curiously
he picked up the peach branch and held it as he had seen it held. The

thing, however, was dead in his hands.
"I see you haven't got it," remarked his comrade. "Few men have."
"Got what?" demanded Cameron.
"A power to find water that way. Back in Illinois an old German used
to do that to locate wells. He showed me I had the same power. I can't
explain. But you needn't look so dumfounded. There's nothing
supernatural about it."
"You mean it's a simple fact--that some men have a magnetism, a force
or power to find water as you did?"
"Yes. It's not unusual on the farms back in Illinois, Ohio, Pennsylvania.
The old German I spoke of made money traveling round with his peach
fork."
"What a gift for a man in the desert!"
Cameron's comrade smiled--the second time in all those days.
They entered a region where mineral abounded, and their march
became slower. Generally they took the course of a wash, one on each
side, and let the burros travel leisurely along nipping at the bleached
blades of scant grass, or at sage or cactus, while they searched in the
canyons and under the ledges for signs of gold. When they found any
rock that hinted of gold they picked off a piece and gave it a chemical
test. The search was fascinating. They interspersed the work with long,
restful moments when they looked afar down the vast reaches and
smoky shingles to the line of dim mountains. Some impelling desire,
not all the lure of gold, took them to the top of mesas and escarpments;
and here, when they had dug and picked, they rested and gazed out at
the wide prospect. Then, as the sun lost its heat and sank lowering to
dent its red disk behind far-distant spurs, they halted in a shady canyon
or likely spot in a dry wash and tried for water. When they found it they
unpacked, gave drink to the tired burros, and turned them loose. Dead
mesquite served for the campfire. While the strange twilight deepened

into weird night they sat propped against stones, with eyes on the dying
embers of the fire, and soon they lay on the sand with the light of white
stars on their dark faces.
Each succeeding day and night Cameron felt himself more and more
drawn to this strange man. He found that after hours of burning toil he
had insensibly grown nearer to his comrade. He reflected that after a
few weeks in the desert he had always become a different man. In
civilization, in the rough mining camps, he had been a prey to unrest
and gloom. but once down on the great billowing sweep of this lonely
world, he could look into