Thus, filling and refilling his pan with fresh water, he excitedly went through the process of "washing" everything but solid substance out of it.
With each fresh dip into the stream the water in the pan became clearer, and within fifteen minutes the three or four double handfuls of sand and gravel with which he began work dwindled down to one.
Scarcely breathing in his eagerness he watched for the yellow gleam of gold.

Once a glitter among the pebbles drew a low cry from him, but when with the point of his knife he found it to be only mica he was glad that Wabi had not heard him.

The young Indian was squatting upon the sand, with his pan turned toward a gleam of the sun that shot faintly down into the chasm.

Without raising his head he called to Rod.
"Found anything ?" "No.

Have you ?" "No--yes--but I don't think it's gold" "What does it look like ?" "It gleams yellow but is as hard as steel." "Mica!" said Rod.
Neither of the boys looked up during the conversation.