anything I can do
to repay you for them?' he asked diffidently.
'No, John-Michael,' she said gently. 'I'm
just glad you want to learn. You come on down any time. We can play
what you know or learn more, or just visit, if you like.'
'Thanks, Mandy. I'll do it.' He smiled
shyly.
For a brief moment, Amanda saw his father's
face reflected in the smile. Mac had once been young, carefree and
probably had looked a little as his son did now. It was a pity his
wife's defection had changed him so much.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning dawned fair and warm.
Amanda rushed through breakfast and her cleaning chores so she
could try her hand at panning for gold. She was full of
anticipation at the prospect and hurried through the dusting and
sweeping so she could proceed.
Shortly before ten o'clock, she plopped her
hat on her head, grabbed the black pan and headed to her portion of
the creek. She wore shorts and a light, sleeveless cotton top, both
in a pale blue that complemented her eyes. Her tennis shoes she
planned to take off at the water's edge.
Once out of doors, she slowed down, walking
steadily, but not rapidly, towards the creek, raising her face to
feel the sun. It was already hot on her arms. She was glad for the
shelter the hat would provide. She’d still have to watch it. Amanda
smiled with growing happiness at the day's beauty: the expanse of
evergreens soaring in stately dignity, the clear blue sky, and the
bluebells nodding in the gentle morning breeze. The soft gurgle of
the water could be heard in the air as she drew near the creek.
When she reached it, Amanda paused, trying to
determine the best place to begin. She had talked to the woman in
the store when buying the pan; basics had been briefly explained,
cautions against fool's gold stressed. When she saw a small
waterfall of less than three feet, the water cascading over in a
steady stream, she moved to try there. The major part of the snow
pack from higher elevations had melted. As the summer wore on, the
stream would probably diminish in size until it was no more than a
trickle curling its way around the large rocks and boulders
scattered in its bed. There were very few spots where the creek bed
was sandy, free from rocks.
One look and Amanda elected to keep her shoes
on. She had another pair at the cabin and some of the rocks in the
creek looked sharp. They were certainly not all smooth pebbles.
Gingerly she stepped into the water, heading for the waterfall.
It felt like ice!
Well, obviously, she chided herself as she
stepped quickly back to the bank. It was melted snow, couldn't be
expected to be warm. Equally obvious, she could not stand for hours
on end in the numbing cold. No wonder so much gold remained in the
California mountains; who could pan for it? They’d get
frostbite.
Disappointed at not being able to start, she
wandered upstream for a few hundred feet, searching for a better
spot, one where she could stay dry on the banks. She found another
likely spot, at the base of still another small cascade, where the
heavier gold would probably settle down to the bottom during flood
season. This particular area had the advantage over the first of
having a large, almost flat rock near the base for her to sit
on.
Started at last, Amanda found it pleasant to
swirl sand and grit from the stream bed in her pan, allowing the
water to wash out the lighter material, leaving the heavier gold at
the bottom of the black pan. Endless scraping up of the stream bed,
swishing it around in the pan, letting the water wash it out over
the side, examining heavier grains to see if they were gold. Over
and over, Amanda scooped, washed, examined.
Only her tired back forced her to call a halt
to her activities. Judging from the sun's position when she looked
up, stretching and rubbing her neck to ease the tightness, it was
probably well after noon. She had been at it for over two hours.
How quickly the time had flown. Ruefully she watched the water play
over the stones.
to repay you for them?' he asked diffidently.
'No, John-Michael,' she said gently. 'I'm
just glad you want to learn. You come on down any time. We can play
what you know or learn more, or just visit, if you like.'
'Thanks, Mandy. I'll do it.' He smiled
shyly.
For a brief moment, Amanda saw his father's
face reflected in the smile. Mac had once been young, carefree and
probably had looked a little as his son did now. It was a pity his
wife's defection had changed him so much.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning dawned fair and warm.
Amanda rushed through breakfast and her cleaning chores so she
could try her hand at panning for gold. She was full of
anticipation at the prospect and hurried through the dusting and
sweeping so she could proceed.
Shortly before ten o'clock, she plopped her
hat on her head, grabbed the black pan and headed to her portion of
the creek. She wore shorts and a light, sleeveless cotton top, both
in a pale blue that complemented her eyes. Her tennis shoes she
planned to take off at the water's edge.
Once out of doors, she slowed down, walking
steadily, but not rapidly, towards the creek, raising her face to
feel the sun. It was already hot on her arms. She was glad for the
shelter the hat would provide. She’d still have to watch it. Amanda
smiled with growing happiness at the day's beauty: the expanse of
evergreens soaring in stately dignity, the clear blue sky, and the
bluebells nodding in the gentle morning breeze. The soft gurgle of
the water could be heard in the air as she drew near the creek.
When she reached it, Amanda paused, trying to
determine the best place to begin. She had talked to the woman in
the store when buying the pan; basics had been briefly explained,
cautions against fool's gold stressed. When she saw a small
waterfall of less than three feet, the water cascading over in a
steady stream, she moved to try there. The major part of the snow
pack from higher elevations had melted. As the summer wore on, the
stream would probably diminish in size until it was no more than a
trickle curling its way around the large rocks and boulders
scattered in its bed. There were very few spots where the creek bed
was sandy, free from rocks.
One look and Amanda elected to keep her shoes
on. She had another pair at the cabin and some of the rocks in the
creek looked sharp. They were certainly not all smooth pebbles.
Gingerly she stepped into the water, heading for the waterfall.
It felt like ice!
Well, obviously, she chided herself as she
stepped quickly back to the bank. It was melted snow, couldn't be
expected to be warm. Equally obvious, she could not stand for hours
on end in the numbing cold. No wonder so much gold remained in the
California mountains; who could pan for it? They’d get
frostbite.
Disappointed at not being able to start, she
wandered upstream for a few hundred feet, searching for a better
spot, one where she could stay dry on the banks. She found another
likely spot, at the base of still another small cascade, where the
heavier gold would probably settle down to the bottom during flood
season. This particular area had the advantage over the first of
having a large, almost flat rock near the base for her to sit
on.
Started at last, Amanda found it pleasant to
swirl sand and grit from the stream bed in her pan, allowing the
water to wash out the lighter material, leaving the heavier gold at
the bottom of the black pan. Endless scraping up of the stream bed,
swishing it around in the pan, letting the water wash it out over
the side, examining heavier grains to see if they were gold. Over
and over, Amanda scooped, washed, examined.
Only her tired back forced her to call a halt
to her activities. Judging from the sun's position when she looked
up, stretching and rubbing her neck to ease the tightness, it was
probably well after noon. She had been at it for over two hours.
How quickly the time had flown. Ruefully she watched the water play
over the stones.
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