This was the first effort at self-protection made by the people. The moment was a trying one. All knew that the roughs were in the majority, and no one was bold enough to recommend open resistance to their encroachments, for fear of consequences. Henry Plummer took an active part in the proceedings, depicting with fervid eloquence “the horrors of anarchy” and solemnly warning the people to “take no steps that might bring disgrace and obloquy upon their rising young city.” Known as a gambler only, and suspected by few of any darker associations, his winning manner had the effect to squelch in its inception the initiatory movement, which at no distant period was to burst forth and whelm him, with hundreds of his bloody associates, in its avenging vortex. The brother of the murdered Hiltebrant was in business at this time at the Oro Fino mines. Hearing of the murder, he openly avowed the intention of going immediately to Lewiston to bring the authors to justice. The banditti sent him a message that he would not live to get there, which had the effect to daunt him from his purpose, and the assassins, for the time, escaped punishment. CHAPTER III NORTHERN MINES Prospecting, as it is called, for gold placers and quartz veins has grown into a profession. No man can engage in it successfully unless he understands it. There are certain indications in the face of the country, the character of the rocks, the presentation of the strata, the form of the gulch, the gravel in streams or on the bars, the cement formation below it, or the shape of the mountains, which are generally known only to experienced prospectors, that determine generally the presence of the precious metals. Guided by these unmistakable signs, the veteran gold searcher is sustained in his solitary explorations by the consciousness of possessing knowledge which must sooner or later lead to success. Impressed with the idea that as many rich gulches and productive veins have been found, so others remain to be discovered,—and that as those already developed have made their owners rich, so some fortunate discovery may do the same for him,—he mounts his pony, and with pick, shovel, and pan, a magnifying glass, a few pounds of bacon, flour, and coffee, his trusty rifle and revolver at hand, and his roll of blankets and not infrequently a quart flask of whiskey, he plunges into the unexplored recesses of the mountains, and for weeks and months is lost to all the world of humanity beside himself. Alone, but encouraged by that hope which outlives every disappointment, he wanders hundreds of miles into the unvisited wilderness, the hero of countless adventures and the explorer of the world’s great solitudes.