The appeal of Potaro Landing was irresistible to us, so we decided to remain a week or two. Unfortunately, Sproston’s maintains no rest-house here, as touring-parties continue to Kangaruma, at the other end of the portage, to spend the night. However, we found a good-natured Chinaman, who operates a store in the one lonely building at the landing, and he permitted us to use half of his barn; he had to remove his horses in order to supply even these limited quarters. A good cart-road leads through the forest a distance of eighteen miles to the mining country on Minnehaha Creek, and many negro miners passed along this way each day; the greater part of them are what is locally known as “pork-knockers,” because they live largely on salt pork and knock about from one place to another. They secure a small stake from the government with which to buy a pick and shovel, and then go into the interior to prospect. If, as frequently occurs, they strike a rich pocket, or find a nugget of considerable size, they immediately drop their implements and rush back to Georgetown to spend their newly acquired wealth. Carriages are engaged by the day, servants employed, and clothes of a bright and flashy nature are purchased in quantities. For a short time they revel in luxury and live in contempt of their erstwhile companions. Quite naturally their wealth soon disappears, and the tawdry finery is pawned to provide money for more necessary things; but there is an end even to this resource. Soon they again seek the stake of a few dollars and hie themselves back to the wilderness to once more try their luck as ordinary pork-knockers. To strangers the negroes are courteous and obedient, but among themselves they are quarrelsome, unfeeling, and even cruel. I heard of an instance where a number of them had been commanded to take a very sick companion down the river in search of medical treatment. As they paddled along the pilot frequently called to the man nearest the sufferer: “Ain’t dead yet?” The person addressed roughly turned the sick man over with his paddle to inspect him, and then answered with a curt “No.” “My! dat man dead hard,” replied the pilot. They were most eagerly awaiting his death because it would save them a long trip, and they had planned to divide among themselves his possessions the moment life departed.