Many persons, in plain sight all up and down the creek bed, were working hard panning for gold. Some of the emigrants had begun almost before they had unharnessed their teams. And yonder, northwest, glimpses of the Platte River, flowing past both Denver and Auraria, gave glimpses also of other miners delving away. Billy walked straight to the nearest group in the creek bed. “How are you making it, pardner?” he asked. “Have you fellows come for your pound a day, too?” asked the man. Even his wife was wielding a dish-pan while he shovelled. “You bet,” assured Billy. The woman paused, and the man laughed wearily and wiped his forehead. “You’ll be lucky if you make fifty cents,” he said. “Yes,” quavered the woman. “It’s awful poor picking along this creek. I expect we’re all going to starve, provisions are getting so high.” “Where are the diggin’s, then?” “Yonder, up in the mountains, stranger. We hear tell they’ve made a big strike there. We’re going on as soon as we can travel. But our oxen are about petered out.” “How far’s Pike’s Peak?” demanded Left-over. “Where’s the Pike’s Peak country? Why don’t you go to Pike’s Peak?” “That’s Pike’s Peak down south, seventy-five miles,” answered the man. “They call this the Pike’s Peak country, but it’s only a name. I reckon you’ve heard of them sliding down Pike’s Peak and scraping up the gold as they slide. Don’t you believe it, mister. The peak’s above snow line and the ground is frozen solid. See that line of wagons? They’re all heading to the new Gregory diggin’s, west in the mountains about forty miles. That’s the big strike.” “Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Billy. Davy felt his heart sink; this, then, was not the end of the gold-seekers’ trail, and the snowy mountains, topping the barrier of the tumbled foot-hills, looked like a hard country. “Come, Davy,” said the Reverend Mr. Baxter. “We’ll see the sights first, anyway.” So they left Left-over, hauling out his pick and spade and gold-pan to join the squads working along the creek; and Hi and Jim and Billy, who set forth on errands; and trudged away “to see the sights.” “This gold craze is all right as a means of attracting the people here,” remarked the Reverend Mr. Baxter, thoughtfully. “But the most wonderful part to me is the settlement itself. There must be fifteen hundred population already in scarce a year, and emigrants are pouring in at the rate of a thousand a day, I hear. There are fifty thousand on the way, Dave. I don’t give a snap for the mines; but look, what has happened! This gold excitement is going to settle the plains. The United States has jumped at a leap from the Missouri River six or seven hundred miles to the mountains. With a city here, and cities at the other end, there’ll soon be cities in between. A whole lot of waste country is due to be made useful.” “I don’t call this much of a city yet,” commented Davy, considerably disappointed over the end of his trip.