About this time the river had risen to such an extent that it was
thought advisable to suspend operations until the next spring. This was
a dividing of the roads, and each member had to look out for himself. I
went to Mokelumne Hill, staked out some claims and went to work to sink
a shaft through the lava to bedrock. The lava on the surface is very
hard, but grows softer as you go down. While I was thus banging away
with my pick and not making much headway, there came along a Mr.
Ferguson from San Francisco, on a mule. He stopped and looked at me a
minute and then said, "Young man, how deep do you expect to go before
you reach bedrock?" I said, "About 65 or 75 feet." "Well," said he,
"by --- you have got more pluck than any man I ever saw." He went on
and so did I, and I have not seen him since. It took me about two weeks
to get so that I could not throw the dirt to the surface, then I had to
make a windlass, get a tub and rope, and hire a man to help me at eight
dollars a day, and 50 cents a point for sharpening picks. These things
completed and in operation, I was able to make two or three feet per day,
and we finally reached the bedrock at a depth of 97 feet. The last two
feet in the bottom of the shaft I saved for washing, and had to haul it
about one mile to water. I washed it out and realized 3 1/2 ounces of very
coarse gold. Now we were on the bedrock and the next thing to do was to
start three drifts in as many directions. This called for two more men
to work the drifts, and a man with his team to haul the dirt to the
water, while I stood at the windless and watched both ends. This went on
for one week. When I washed out my dirt, paid off my help and other
expenses, I had two dollars and a half for myself.

About this time I was feeling a little blue and I gave directions for
each man in the drifts to start drifts to the left at the end of each
drift. This was done, and we went on for another week as before, and