"Give them two or three of the saddle blankets," suggested Barry, after a moment's thought. "We will have several light hosses going out; and if we have to pad the saddles we can git along with skins or something." We gave our visitors the blankets, therefore. They seemed well pleased, arose, and shortly made a primitive sort of a camp a short distance outside our stockade. We did no more washing that day. About five o'clock our hunters came in with the best meat of a blacktail deer. Bagsby listened attentively to our account of the interview. Then he took a hindquarter of the newly killed buck and departed for the Indians' camp, where he stayed for an hour. "I don't think they are out for meanness," he announced when he returned. "They tell me this yere is on a sort of short cut from some of the Truckee lakes down to their villages. But we got to keep a sharp eye on our horses; and we got to stand guard to-night." Very early in the morning, when we were just up, several of the elders came over to tell us that some of the young men would stay to work for us, if we so desired. We replied that we had no goods with which to pay for work. Shortly after, the whole tribe vanished down river. For two nights Bagsby insisted on standing guard, and on having some of us take turns at it. Then we declined flatly to do so any longer. The Indians had gone far downstream, as their trail indicated to our hunters, and had shown no signs of even hesitating on the way. We fell into our old routine, and laughed at Bagsby when he shook his head. About this time Johnny and McNally, scrambling of a Sunday for the sake of a view, stumbled on a small ravine that came nearer realizing our hoped-for strike than anything we had yet seen. After "puddling out" a few potfuls of the pay dirt, we decided to move the cradles. It was not over a half mile from camp, but was out of sight of the stockade. The move was the occasion for a hot discussion. Bagsby wanted to reorganize, and we were reluctant. "Thar ought to be two men in camp," said he, "and thar ought never to be less'n three together out hunting. And that's my idee--that ye're paying me money for." "That leaves us only four men to work the cradles," I objected. "Four men out of nine working." "Well, thar won't be _no_ men out of nine a-workin' if you don't watch out," predicted Bagsby. "You-all forgit this is a self-supportin' community. We got to work for our living, as well as for gold." "The hunters might go out less," suggested McNally. "The miners might eat less, then," replied Bagsby grimly. "This ain't what you'd call the best sort of a game country." We came to it, of course, though with much grumbling. It seemed an almost excuseless waste of good energy; a heavy price in economic efficiency to pay for insurance against what seemed a very remote peril. But we did not know, and our uncertainty gave way.