There is something about gold--just the metal--that makes people forget everything else in life. A little prospecting showed us that we were in the heart of a great gold-bearing district, with surface croppings of such value that all a man needed for working capital was a pick, a pan, a couple of hammers and a mule to carry the rock to water, where it could be hand-crushed and washed. Even the mule could be dispensed with if one did not mind the labor of shouldering an ore sack for a short distance every day. We were rich and gold-mad. Realizing the importance of the discovery I sent one of my companions to collect enough men to form a mining district under the existing laws. These assembled, we perfected an organization and elected officers. Somewhere in the Book of Genesis mention is made of a river in Paradise running through the land of “Havilah, a country rich in gold.” We were shy on the river, but the balance of the quotation seemed appropriate enough, so I christened the proposed town “Havilah.” The district was called “Clear Creek,” under which title it was famous for many a year. Also I showed judgment and forethought in a real estate way, claiming and staking off a natural townsite. I didn’t dare to go down into the settled district to purchase anything like machinery, for fear of arrest, but we constructed rude arastras, primitive Spanish quartz mills, and began to turn out gold bullion in astonishing amounts. Something concerning a new gold discovery began to leak out and occasional prospectors joined our camp. We had no end of provisions, plenty of fresh meat and sort of kept open house. All in all, it was about the best-ordered mining camp I ever saw.