The ascent was toilsome, but familiar.  All along the dim trail he was accompanied by gentler memories of the past, that seemed, like the faint odor of spiced leaves and fragrant grasses wet with the rain and crushed beneath his ascending tread, to exhale the sweeter perfume in his effort to subdue or rise above them.  There was the thicket of manzanita, where they had broken noonday bread together; here was the rock beside their maiden shaft, where they had poured a wild libation in boyish enthusiasm of success; and here the ledge where their first flag, a red shirt heroically sacrificed, was displayed from a long-handled shovel to the gaze of admirers below.  When he at last reached the summit, the mysterious hush was still in the air, as if in breathless sympathy with his expedition.  In the west, the plain was faintly illuminated, but disclosed no moving figures.  He turned towards the rising moon, and moved slowly to the eastern edge.  Suddenly he stopped.  Another step would have been his last!  He stood upon the crumbling edge of a precipice.  A landslip had taken place on the eastern flank, leaving the gaunt ribs and fleshless bones of Lone Star mountain bare in the moonlight.  He understood now the strange rumble and reverberation he had heard; he understood now the strange hush of bird and beast in brake and thicket!

Although a single rapid glance convinced him that the slide had taken place in an unfrequented part of the mountain, above an inaccessible canyon, and reflection assured him his companions could not have reached that distance when it took place, a feverish impulse led him to descend a few rods in the track of the avalanche.  The frequent recurrence of outcrop and angle made this comparatively easy.  Here he called aloud; the feeble echo of his own voice seemed only a dull impertinence to the significant silence.  He turned to reascend; the furrowed flank of the mountain before him lay full in the moonlight.  To his excited fancy, a dozen luminous star-like points in the rocky crevices started into life as he faced them.  Throwing his arm over the ledge above him, he supported himself for a moment by what appeared to be a projection of the solid rock.  It trembled slightly.  As he raised himself to its level, his heart stopped beating.  It was simply a fragment detached from the outcrop, lying loosely on the ledge but upholding him by its own weight only.  He examined it with trembling fingers; the encumbering soil fell from its sides and left its smoothed and worn protuberances glistening in the moonlight.  It was virgin gold!

Looking back upon that moment afterwards, he remembered that he was not dazed, dazzled, or startled.  It did not come to him as a discovery or an accident, a stroke of chance or a caprice of fortune.  He saw it all in that supreme moment; Nature had worked out their poor deduction.  What their feeble engines had essayed spasmodically and helplessly against the curtain of soil that hid the treasure, the elements had achieved with mightier but more patient forces.  The slow sapping of the winter rains had loosened the soil from the auriferous rock, even while the swollen stream was carrying their impotent and shattered engines to the sea.