Having completed my melancholy task, I started afoot to rejoin my partners on the Yuba--where I arrived--after several days spent in toilsome wandering--footsore and dispirited. The adventure had taught me two lessons. Never to refuse any one a drink of water when I could give it; and to be ever after careful in interpreting the language of others--lest some wrong might be fancied, where none was intended. Volume One, Chapter XX. RICHARD GUINANE. On my return to the Yuba, with the sad tale of my comrade's death--and the consequent unfortunate termination of our prospecting scheme-- Hiram's partners made search for his gold, in every place where it was likely to have been buried. Their search proved fruitless. The precious treasure could not be found. Unfortunately, none of us knew where his family resided. He had been incidentally heard to say, that he came from the state of Delaware; but this was not sufficient clue, to enable any of us to communicate with his relatives. His wife has probably watched long for his return; and may yet believe him guilty of that faithlessness--too common to men who have left their homes on a similar errand. As our claim on the Yuba was well nigh exhausted, we dissolved partnership--each intending to proceed somewhere else on his own account. Young Johnson--who had been my companion across the plains-- never before having been so long away from his parents, determined upon going home to them, and there remaining all the winter. I had heard good accounts of the southern "placers," which, being of the sort known as "dry diggings," were best worked during the rainy season. Three or four men, from the same "bar" where we had been engaged, were about starting for the Mocolumne; and, after bidding James Johnson and my other mates a friendly farewell, I set out along with this party. After reaching our destination, I joined partnership with two of my travelling companions; and, during the greater part of the winter, we worked upon Red Gulch--all three of us doing well. Having exhausted our claim, my two partners left me both to return home to New York. Being thus left once more alone, I determined upon proceeding still farther south--to the Tuolumne river, there to try my fortune during the summer. On my way to the Tuolumne, I fell in with a man named Richard Guinane, who had just come up from San Francisco City. He was also _en route_ for the diggings at Tuolumne; and we arranged to travel together. He was going to try his luck in gold seeking for the second time; and, finding him an agreeable companion, I proposed that we should become partners. My proposal was accepted--on the condition that we should stop awhile on the Stanislaus--a river of whose auriferous deposits my new partner had formed a very high opinion. To this I made no objection; and, on reaching the Stanislaus, we pitched our tents upon its northern bank.