the expedition was on the march, Dora sat enthroned; and in its dusky
recesses she made her couch at night. Not only did the loyal Posey
devote himself to her guardianship by day, but he kept watch and
ward by night, sitting bolt upright within a couple of yards of
his precious charge until the stars grew pale in the dawn. Then,
if opportunity offered, he would snatch a surreptitious nap, still
disdaining to lie down, however; and it frequently occurred that the
earlier risers in the camp would discover Posey sitting on the ground,
embracing his nether limbs with his long arms, while his head, with
its close-cut, sandy hair, sank slumberous between his towering knees,
like the sun going down between two mountain-peaks. To such a length
did he carry these romantic vigils that he shortly came to look as
gaunt and hollow-eyed as Famine. In addition to which he had to
endure no end of raillery from his not too considerate or fastidious
companions, who, so far from inclining to harm a hair of Dora's head,
were generally wholly indifferent to her presence, and could not enter
into Posey's solicitude on her behalf.

Just here, also, Jake Savage, who had spent a year in the mines and
was piloting the present expedition, was reminded of a story, which he
obligingly related to Posey, apropos.

"You see, Posey," said Jake, "me and Hooker--Hooker was my chum--had
been scratchin' and washin' for about seven or eight dollars a day
down there to McCracken's Bend, till we got disgusted, and we made up
our minds that if we couldn't make more'n that we might as well give
up and strike for the States. But just then who should come along but
little Bill Skinner, bound all so fast for up the gulch? Bill had
been prospectin' around all summer on his own hook, but hadn't struck
nothin' yet, and was so much worse off than we was that Hooker and me