The judge stared sharply upon the young man, and hurriedly turned to hide a merry twitching of his lips. That afternoon the boys were considerably astonished and scared at seeing the schoolmistress walking quickly toward the creek. The chairman of the new committee was fully equal to the occasion. Mounting a rock, he roared: “You fellers without no sherts on, git. You with shoes off, put ’em on. Take your pants out uv yer boots. Hats off when the lady comes. Hurry up, now—no foolin’.” The shirtless ones took a lively double-quick toward some friendly bushes, the boys rolled down their sleeves and pantaloons, and one or two took the extra precaution to wash the mud off their boots. Meanwhile Miss Brown approached, and Toledo stepped forward. “Anything wrong up at the schoolhouse?” said he. “Oh, no,” replied Miss Brown, “but I have always had a great curiosity to see how gold was obtained. It seems as if it must be very easy to handle those little pans. Don’t you—don’t you suppose some miner would lend me his pan and let me try just _once_?” “Certingly, marm; ev’ry galoot ov ’em would be glad of the chance. Here, you fellers—who’s got the cleanest pan?” Half a dozen men washed out their pans, and hurried off with them. Toledo selected one, put in dirt and water, and handed it to Miss Brown. “Thar you are, marm, but I’m afeard you’ll wet your dress.” “Oh, that won’t harm,” cried Miss Brown, with a laugh which caused one enthusiastic miner to “cut the pigeon-wing.” She got the miner’s touch to a nicety, and in a moment had a spray of dirty water flying from the edge of the pan, while all the boys stood in a respectful semicircle, and stared delightedly. The pan empty, Toledo refilled it several times; and, finally, picking out some pebbles and hard pieces of earth, pointed to the dirty, shiny deposit in the bottom of the pan, and briefly remarked: “Thar ’tis, marm.” “Oh!” screamed Miss Brown, with delight; “is that really gold-dust?” “That’s it,” said Toledo. “I’ll jest put it up fur yer, so yer ken kerry it.” “Oh, no,” said Miss Brown, “I couldn’t think of it—it isn’t mine.” “You washed it out, marm, an’ that makes a full title in these parts.” All of the traditional honesty of New England came into Miss Brown’s face in an instant; and, although she, Yankee-like, estimated the value of the dust, and sighingly thought how much easier it was to win gold in that way than by forcing ideas into stupid little heads, she firmly declined the gold, and bade the crowd a smiling good-day. “Did yer see them little fingers uv hern a-holdin’ out that pan?—did yer see her, fellers?” inquired an excited miner. “Yes, an’ the way she made that dirt git, ez though she was useder to washin’ than wallopin’,” said another. “Wallopin’!” echoed a staid miner. “I’d gie my claim, an’ throw in my pile to boot, to be a young ’un an’ git walloped by them playthings of han’s.”