Nevertheless the idea with us had been growing. Some of the bolder spirits among our acquaintances used to talk it over with us at odd times--McNally, Buck Barry, and his partner, Missouri Jones. We did not discuss it as a plan, hardly as a possibility, merely as a pleasant theme. We found, and advanced any amount of objections--the uncertainty of finding any gold at all, the expense of such a journey, the danger from Indians, the fact that we could find other proved diggings much nearer, and a half hundred others. The moment one of us had advanced one of these objections he was at once himself the most eager to demolish it. Thus we gradually worked ourselves toward enthusiasm. "If Sam Bagsby would join us, it might be worth trying," we came to at last. But Sam Bagsby scouted any such idea. "I ain't that kind of a tom-fool," said he. "If I want to paddle my hands blue I'd do it yere. I couldn't make more'n a living anyway. I tell you I ain't got no use for yore pra'rie dog grubbing!" Then McNally had an inspiration. "Will you go, Sam, if we pay you for going?" he asked. "Sure," replied the trapper at once. "I'm a labouring man, I'll go anywhar I'm paid to go." It came out that Bagsby's ideas of proper compensation were his supplies, fifteen dollars a week in gold, and a drink of whiskey twice a day! In all this gold country he was the only man I met who genuinely despised money. I really think we were hurried to our decision by this unexpected reasonableness on his part. At any rate we decided definitely to go. CHAPTER XXI WE LEAVE THE DIGGINGS