Few had much to show for their toil and privation; yet,
not disheartened, even in delirium, they clamored to hasten back for
the precious treasure which seemed ever beckoning them onward.
When wind and weather drove them home, the robust came with bags of
gold rolled in their snug packs. They called each other "lucky dogs,"
yet looked like grimy beggars, with faces so bewhiskered, and clothing
so ragged, or so wonderfully patched, that little children cried when
they drew near, and wives threw up their hands, exclaiming, "For the
land's sake! can it be?" Yet each home-comer found glad welcome, and
messengers were quick to spread the news, and friends gathered to
rejoice with the returned.
Now each home-cooked dish was a feast for the camp-fed to contrast with
their fare at Coloma, Wood's Camp,[16] and sundry other places, where
flour, rice, ship-bread, and coffee were three dollars a pound; salt
pork and white beans, two dollars a pound; jerked beef, eight dollars a
pound; saleratus, sixteen dollars an ounce; and salt, sugar, and
raisins were put on the scales to balance their weight in gold dust;
where liquor was fifty cents a tablespoonful, and candles five dollars
each. It was not the prices at which they complained, but at the dearth
of these staples, which had forced them home to wait until spring
should again open the road to supply-trains.
The homeless, who in the evenings found comfort and cheer around
grandma's table, would take out their treasure bags and boxes and pour
their dust and grains of gold in separate piles, to show the quality
and quantity, then pass the nuggets around that all might see what
strange figures nature had moulded in secret up among the rocks and
ravines of the Sierras.
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